Her eyes flickered up to him, so close she had to tilt her head back. They'd been this close the night before, when he'd folded his arms around her as she sobbed. He'd pushed a curl over her ear and stared into her watering eyes like he'd been entranced.

She pushed the memories away. "I am pretty good at research, if you'll recall." She smiled, hoping he couldn't resist the chance to tease her. To let her in.

Instead he jerked his head. "No. I'm almost there." He swallowed tightly. "Thank you, though."

She blinked quickly, nodding her disappointment at her shoes. Maybe when he was done with his "problem," they could finally talk. She lifted her chin, took a deep breath, and said, "I find that in most cases, the answer is right in front of you."

His lips parted on a silent inhale, as if her flippant remark had disturbed him. Pink spots high on his cheeks as his eyes roved over her before returning to her gaze.

"Thank you, Granger. I'll keep an eye out for that," he murmured.

Nodding one last time, she excused herself, heading to the doorway. As she turned to close the library doors, she caught a glimpse of him sitting at the table, beginning to organize whatever he was researching. She was reminded of sixth year when he would sulk in corners and hunch over books in the library, looking pale and thin.

She ate dinner alone in her bedroom, poring over a heavy book on the history of South America that contained a reference to magical slavery somewhere. She made it three chapters before an overwhelming exhaustion pushed at her eyelids, beckoning her to sleep.

~*~

"Granger, wake up."

Her eyes snapped open, her body jolting with the presence of someone else in her room. It was pitch black.

A candle flamed next to her, revealing Narcissa leaning over her bedside table, shaking out a match.

"It's alright, dear," she whispered, but there was a quiver to her voice. She pulled back the coverlet, refusing to make eye contact. "It's alright," she said — more to herself.

"What—" Hermione fell silent, lips parting at the sight of Draco coming around the other side of her bed with another candle. His fingers fumbled a match out of a box, dropping it next to the candle without lighting it.

"What's happened?" she asked.

"Come." Narcissa peeled back the sheets over her legs, reaching for her. "Come with me."

Hermione scrambled out of bed, heart pounding in her ears. Narcissa led her into the bathroom suite as Draco moved to the fireplace, wand tracing a spell over the flames.

Opening the Floo.

Narcissa shut the door behind them, and Hermione blinked, taking in the elegant Narcissa Malfoy in her dressing gown, sans makeup, sans tailored robes. A white silk nightgown hanging limply from her elbow, and a pale expression to match.

"Remove your nightclothes," Narcissa whispered.

Hermione swallowed, mind begging for answers. But something told her to obey. "Are we going somewhere?" she squeaked. Her fingers moved quickly over her buttons, cold and quivering.