"There is a lake with still waters," he whispered. "A mountain range surrounds it. The waters are deep with hidden secrets, but the water is still."

She blinked, legs swaying, feeling her breathing even out as she let his words wash over her. His hands slipped around her stomach, pressing her close to him.

They lit the cannon. And screamed and stomped while they counted down.

"Think of your mind as a library. Shelves upon shelves of novels and journals and biographies," the voice lulled. "Find an empty shelf for this moment."

An explosive boom, rocking the stones beneath her feet. Hermione watched with a slack jaw as the spot where the boy stood smoked and crumbled, his sister speckled with his blood. The cannon was reloaded.

"An empty book in your hands. Its blank pages between your fingers. Write this moment into the book. Give it a title."

The One O'Clock Gun, her mind supplied.

"Fill the pages, and close the book."

The cannon aimed at the strawberry-blonde. She shed tears slowly, mixing with her brother's blood and dripping pink down her neck.

"Close the book, and push it into a corner. Lose it within the piles and piles of texts and novels."

A book's pages fluttered shut in her mind. It locked. And she breathed deep, stretching to her tiptoes to push it onto a shelf that was just too tall for her to reach. She imagined a hand with long fingers helping her reach the top.

A cannon was lit.

There was a girl crying.

A crowd cheered and counted the seconds.

The girl tilted her head back to the sky and screamed.

She disappeared in a spray of smoke and blood and rage.

Hands around Hermione's waist, pulling her close. A sharp jaw cutting into her temple.

Hands leading her backward, tugging her past the screaming fanatics and werewolves and other monsters. Pulling her to climb a cobblestone hill, moving into a courtyard, into a hall.

She found herself stepping through a fireplace and into a bedroom with green curtains and neatly organized trinkets.

She turned around, bookshelves swaying and buckling, and Draco Malfoy stood before her in his bedroom.

His hands came to rest on her jaw, examining her eyes.

"Look at me."

She blinked, and they crashed to the ground. Free.

Her senses were overwhelmed. Shivers over her skin, gasping breaths from her chest, a flood of tears down her cheeks. She sobbed, her hands clutching his elbows, keeping him close.

And without knowing how, she pressed against his chest, her forehead pushing into his sternum. Her cries shook her body. He enclosed his arms around her back.

A hole in her stomach the shape of a cannonball. Filled with grief and rage and despair.

Draco didn't say a word, simply holding her.

She pulled back when she'd finally exhausted herself, stepping away from him. She knew she was red and swollen and wet. But he looked down at her with a raw passion that she couldn't feel vulnerable.