Hermione woke up in her bed to the sound of something falling. She stretched out lazily—she'd just had the most wonderful dream. One full of tenderness, warmth, and safety. Mmmm…
She ran her hand along her ribs, practically purring like a cat. A few more nights like this and she might finally catch up on sleep.
Part of her wanted to burrow back under the blankets and try to grab onto the fading dream, but she heard Crookshanks knocking things off the table in protest—clearly unhappy about another of her nightly disappearances.
Hermione sat up and flicked her wand to light the lamp beside her.
"Crookie!" she hissed through the half-open curtains. "Stop it! You're about to knock over—"
The astronomical clock.
Hermione's gaze locked onto the carved rune-covered box teetering dangerously on the edge of her desk.
The clock had been in her bed the first night Malfoy cast that nightmare of a spell. A time-related spell. And it had hit a broken magical timepiece.
Oh no.
She scrambled out of bed and flipped open the box, ignoring Crookshanks's annoyed meows.
The clock was a wreck—yet another casualty of Malfoy's incompetence. The dials were bent, tiny spheres scattered across the bottom… Temporal magic was tightly tied to celestial bodies, and now the Sun, Moon, and planets inside the clock were all out of alignment. No wonder the Vanishing Spell's timing had gone haywire.
Hermione snapped the lid shut and frowned.
Time magic was incredibly complex. They might never know exactly when things went wrong.
A dull thud at the window made her nearly drop the box. She quickly set it back on the table, then unlatched the window, shivering at the cold night air.
A tiny white owl—so fluffy it looked more like a flying puffball than a bird—flew in, landing on the couch with a wobbly bounce. Hermione had to dig through the fluff to find the bird's leg, but finally managed to untie a small package and a scroll. Harry's handwriting.
She glanced at the clock—6 a.m. Aurors really did start early.
Hermione fed the owl a treat and sank into the chair to read the letter.
Hermione,
Be careful with the ferret. If you need to, drop Divination—nobody needs eight OWLs that badly. I'm sending you a Sneakoscope; we've got piles of them over here, and they're always going off. Stay away from snakes. I heard about that student from Durmstrang who transferred—gonna look into the trial. He and the ferret are probably up to something.
Harry
Hermione rolled her eyes.
Only Harry could cram so much nonsense into just a few sentences.
She wasn't about to drop Divination or carry a Sneakoscope everywhere, and staying away from Slytherins was literally impossible. Honestly, he was starting to sound as paranoid as Ginny.
Still, Harry's warning stuck in her mind. She walked over to her Enemy Revealer—a round mirror on a tarnished brass stand. She'd found it on the floor of the Room of Requirement at the start of the year and kept it, hoping to fix it.
Before, it had only shown faint, blurry shadows indicating distant threats. But now, behind a fine spiderweb of cracks, a dark, distinct figure lurked. Had it been there before?
Maybe it was Malfoy.
She'd have to tell him about the astronomical clock. And he was not going to be happy.
Oh well.
Hermione smirked at her reflection in the Enemy Revealer, and her warped image smirked right back.
Good thing I'm not here to make Draco Malfoy happy.
"Hello, Hermione."
She stopped at the Hufflepuff table, surprised by the approving tone in Justin Finch-Fletchley's voice. The prefect didn't usually approve of anything. But he was always polite and ready to help—albeit with a generous helping of condescension. Still, at least his intentions were good.
Hermione smiled at the dark-haired wizard. She'd actually spent a little more time on her appearance this morning—her hair was tamed, she'd chosen a short black skirt and a red blouse, and in her ears gleamed tiny golden Snitch earrings, a birthday gift from Harry.
"Good morning, Justin," she said.
Justin sat up straighter, basking in the attention as if it were his due. He sat a little apart from the other Hufflepuffs—because even the gentlest Badgers didn't appreciate breakfast lectures.
But when Hermione didn't move on after the greeting, Justin gave her a puzzled look.
She studied him carefully. Justin, she remembered, was an expert in astronomy and astrological magic.
"You're welcome to sit," he said with practiced courtesy.
"Thank you," Hermione replied, sliding onto the bench across from him.
One of Justin's dark eyebrows arched in surprise, but he said nothing, merely poured her a cup of tea. It was nice dealing with a wizard who understood manners.
As always, Justin looked impeccable: classic trousers, a light blue shirt that perfectly matched his eyes, and a yellow tie. His prefect badge gleamed on his chest, and his cufflinks were tiny gold badgers. On his finger, a gold and onyx Hufflepuff ring.
Hermione tilted her head, thinking. Her list of potential romantic partners had recently undergone some edits—Ernie was out since he was practically engaged to Megan Jones. But Justin… Justin was still a viable candidate for the ORGAN list.
"What do you know about astronomical clocks?" she asked.
"Plenty," Justin replied, neatly cutting his toast into perfect triangles. "My father has an entire collection of Muggle astronomical clocks. He's actually a physics award winner."
Hermione nodded—she knew that.
"And magical ones?"
"Ah, magical astronomical clocks." Justin's eyes lit up, and he set down his knife.
"Fascinating things. Very rare. Did you know they don't just track the hour and the year? They also track the movement of planets and any other object in the sky you want to follow."
Hermione leaned in, intrigued.
"Like what, exactly?"
"Anything," Justin shrugged. "A Quidditch player, a Muggle airplane—you name it. Dumbledore had some that tracked his phoenix. They had a tiny ruby-gold bird flying inside the mechanism."
"That's incredible," Hermione said, picturing the delicate trinkets in Dumbledore's office. "Justin, I have a broken astronomical clock in my dorm."
"Is that so?" Justin blinked at her last word, and Hermione flushed.
"Yes," she pressed on. "Would you help me fix it?"
Justin gave her a slightly alarmed look.
"I don't think that's—"
"I can bring it to the library! The library!" Her voice cracked halfway between a squeak and a laugh. Brilliant. Three nights with Malfoy and she'd forgotten how to talk to men.
Justin considered.
"I suppose I could make time," he said, finishing his geometrical breakfast and dabbing his mouth with a napkin. "Maybe after dinner."
"Thank you."
Hermione stood and turned to go, but her eyes flicked to the Slytherin table.
Malfoy sat there, drawn as tight as a bowstring, his face dark and stormy. Students leaving breakfast practically hugged the walls, trying to sneak past him unnoticed.
Hermione frowned.
It would be nice if he were in a better mood when they met at lunch.
He wasn't.
Malfoy shot through her window under Disillusionment charms so fast she thought the glass might shatter. She heard the dull thud of his landing, the scrape of his broom on the floor—and then suddenly he was there, a wizard materializing in front of her, every inch the fearsome Death Eater in a billowing black cloak.
"Let's end this," he snapped.
Hermione sighed.
That was twice now he'd shown up in her dorm looking ready to kill someone. He really hated being in the Gryffindor Tower.
"Wait," she said. "I have to tell you something."
"Don't waste my—"
"I know why the time element of the spell failed."
Malfoy folded his arms.
"Why," he ground out.
"Because of this." Hermione pointed at her desk. "There's a magical astronomical clock in that box. I was trying to fix it. It was in my bed when you cast the spell."
Malfoy stared at the box.
"What was a broken Astarium doing in your bed?"
"I like working on it in the evenings. It helps me relax."
"So this is why the spell went to hell."
"No, Malfoy—the reason it went to hell is because you cast it in the first place."
For Merlin's sake, how long were they going to keep arguing about this?
"Who keeps broken magical artifacts in their bed?" Malfoy scowled. "You could've seriously hurt yourself!" He shuddered. "Or me!"
"Sorry, Malfoy, for endangering your precious skin—while you were screwing my roommate in my bed."
"I didn't know it was your bed!"
Hermione snorted. Like that would've made a difference. She flipped open the box.
"Stop playing dumb and look at this. Do you think this clock is powerful enough to interfere with your spell?"
Malfoy stepped closer, peering at the broken mechanism.
"Yeah, it's big enough. And like you said, it was a delicate spell." His long pale finger pointed at the pile of tiny spheres. "Copernican system? You're missing a planet."
"What?" Hermione grabbed her wand and carefully rolled the spheres—the planets, the Moon, the golden Sun—across the dial.
"You're right. Jupiter's gone." She searched the table. "Do you see it anywhere? It's two inches wide, copper."
"Maybe it's still in the bed," Malfoy said.
"Oh, Merlin," she groaned. "I have to find it."
"Yeah, you do," Malfoy said smugly. "It's a magical object. It's probably blocking the counterspell."
Hermione lunged for the bed and started yanking out pillows.
"Well, Malfoy?" she snapped over her shoulder. "Are you going to help me?"
"Typical mudb—" Malfoy started.
Hermione shot him a deadly glare.
"Fine, fine. Typical Muggle-born princess. You do remember you're a witch, right?"
"Of course. And don't you dare forget it," she shot back.
"Then just Summon the bloody thing."
"Oh, really?" Hermione smirked. "Go ahead, then."
Typical pureblood—thinking magic was the answer to everything.
Summoning Charms only worked if the object was clearly identifiable. If she tried Accio now, tiny Jupiter would probably have an existential crisis. Was it a sphere? A planet? Part of a clock?
"Accio Jupiter," Malfoy said, flicking his wand toward the bed.
Hermione laughed.
"You may be powerful, Malfoy, but I doubt you can summon an entire planet."
"Accio model of Jupiter." Nothing happened.
"Accio copper sphere." Still nothing. Malfoy's face darkened.
"Accio Jupiter from the astronomical clock."
Again, nothing.
Hermione knew she looked smug—but she didn't care.
"Come on. We don't have all day."
She yanked another pillow off the bed and glanced at Malfoy, who still hadn't moved.
"Look at this disgusting red and gold mess," he muttered. "We're never going to find a tiny copper ball in here."
"Well, we've got to try." Hermione tugged at the blanket. "Help me, you lazy bastard."
With the air of a martyr, Malfoy shrugged off his cloak and moved to the other side of the bed. He yanked the blanket so forcefully he was more of a hindrance than help, and Hermione let go of her end, sending him stumbling back with a dull thud as he hit the wall.
Malfoy scowled but said nothing. He just threw the blanket onto the floor, then ran his hand over the mattress, feeling for gaps near the headboard. Hermione climbed onto the bed to check the foot of it, and the mattress dipped as Malfoy leaned forward on one knee, looming over her.
"So narrow," he complained loudly. "I can't get my fingers in there. Shift over a bit, Granger, make room for me. Come on, be a good girl."
A loud gasp made them both look up. Hermione recoiled backward—straight into Malfoy. He toppled against the headboard, grabbing her by the hips to steady himself. She ended up in his lap.
And both of them looked up—to see Romilda and Leanne frozen in the doorway, staring at them in silent shock.
Hermione suddenly realized her blouse had come untucked, her skirt was bunched up around her waist—and Malfoy's hands were still resting on her hips, warm through her tights.
Her cheeks burst into flames as she remembered exactly what he'd just said.
"Hello, ladies," Malfoy said smoothly. "Care to join us?"
His hands stayed where they were, and it took all of Hermione's self-control not to elbow him in the gut.
Romilda snorted and crossed her arms.
"How charming, Hermione. Always the righteous one," she said with a sneer. "And now look who you're rolling around with."
"I—he—we—" Hermione couldn't get a single word out.
Romilda's expression brightened.
"So that means I can bring Cormac over, too?"
"NO!"
"I can't believe this!" Leanne chimed in. "Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy!"
Hermione and Malfoy both jumped off the bed. The scene could only mean one thing to anyone who walked in on it—midday hookup. And Leanne would spread that story across the entire school.
They couldn't let that happen.
Apparently, Malfoy came to the same conclusion. He flicked his wand and the door slammed shut with a bang.
"If either of you says a single word about this," he growled, "I'll make you regret the fucking day you were born."
Leanne looked ready to faint, but Romilda just frowned disapprovingly.
"Aww, look at you, grumpy boy," she said. "Are you sure you know what you're doing, Hermione? I did tell you Draco likes when—"
"I'm not doing anything right!" Hermione snapped.
"That's for damn sure," Malfoy agreed.
"Shut up, Malfoy."
"I just can't believe this!" Leanne repeated, eyes wide. Malfoy shot her a murderous glare, and she backed up against the wall.
"You both better keep your mouths shut," Hermione said, voice sharp as a blade. "If you don't, I've got two words for you—Marietta Edgecombe."
Malfoy raised an eyebrow, puzzled, but the effect on the girls was immediate. Romilda went pale, and Leanne squeaked:
"We won't tell! We won't say anything! We promise!"
"Good," Hermione said crisply. "Now get out. We're busy."
Romilda still stood there, arms crossed, clearly furious.
"It's not fair," she grumbled. "I can't bring Cormac in here, but you two can come and have terrible sex anytime you like."
"We are not having terrible sex!" Hermione snapped.
"But it could be better," Malfoy added.
"Shut up, Malfoy."
"Ugh, you're both so bossy," Romilda scoffed. "No wonder the sex is terrible."
"Enough!" Hermione's patience snapped. She whipped out her wand. "Out!"
Leanne bolted from the room, and even Romilda looked a bit worried.
"Fine," she huffed, and followed her friend out. Hermione lowered her wand and rubbed her forehead.
"Who's Marietta Edgecombe?" Malfoy asked.
"A girl who didn't know how to keep her mouth shut."
Hermione walked over to the bed and raised her wand.
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
The mattress floated smoothly up four feet into the air.
"Go on," she told Malfoy.
He shot her a sour look but ducked under the mattress anyway, illuminating the bedframe with his wand.
"Got it," he called, waving a clenched fist while his head and torso were still under the bed.
Hermione flicked her wand.
Malfoy let out a muffled yell as the mattress dropped with a whomp—right on his head.
He shot upright, hair sticking out in all directions, eyes narrowed, stalking toward her like a predator.
Hermione pointed her wand at him, and though he growled, he stopped dead in his tracks. After forcing himself to calm down, he walked over to the desk, dropped the copper sphere back into the clock, and smoothed his hair. Hermione floated the mattress and blankets back into place.
They locked eyes again.
"Well?" Hermione asked.
Malfoy glanced at the now perfectly made bed, his brow furrowed.
"Let's hope, without any magical junk interfering, the counterspell will actually work."
He waved his wand, tracing a perfect circle in the air and chanting at regular intervals:
"Intermissum Harmonia Nectere."
Hermione flushed despite herself, and Malfoy smirked. After finishing the counterspell, she slowly ran her wand over the bed.
"No magical traces," she said. "Looks like it worked."
"Thank Salazar," Malfoy muttered, pulling on his cloak. "Accio broom."
The air shimmered, and Hermione heard his broom slap into his hand—still under a Disillusionment charm.
He shot her a dark look as he mounted it, flicking his wand to open the window.
"Have fun screwing your little Hufflepuff."
"What? I—"
Hermione's words stuck in her throat, but Malfoy just cast his Disillusionment spell, vanishing into a faint ripple in the air as he flew out the window.