It just happened to be what her heart wanted as well.

"Was your father successful?" she called out. "In speaking with Voldemort about Switzerland?"

He froze, then turned slowly, looking her over. Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair. "For now. Mother received an owl this morning. Father has convinced him that politics shouldn't be the top priority, given the current state of the country."

She nodded, something knotted unraveling inside of her chest. "And where is he now?"

"Working on a new strategy for the Dark Lord's approval." He hesitated. "My aunt's not happy. Mother has gone to stay with her for a few days."

"What?" Hermione blurted out. "Why?"

Draco shrugged. "To keep her distracted."

"I see."

He glanced at the door, and she knew she had a handful of seconds before he disappeared.

"Wait—" She moved back to the table, shuffling papers and organizing books. "I'm looking into something that I would love a bit of help with. It's… a lot of work, and I could use a—a partner."

She looked up to him again, and his eyes flashed. There was a thick silence.

"If you're not too busy," she whispered, the words floating across the distance to him.

He stared at the books, tilting his head to read a sideways title. Close enough to show interest, but too far to be hooked. She counted her heartbeats in the moments that followed, the brutal silence overwhelming. If he walked away—

"What are you working on?"

A breeze of relief swept through her veins. She smiled nervously at him and began to explain the Scourers. Slow enough to not overwhelm him, but quick enough to keep his interest. Her chest pounded faster as he moved toward the table, listening intently. She inched forward as well, still rattling facts and history.

"And when did you first learn about them?" he suddenly asked, turning to look at her.

"Um— the night with the Spanish Minister." He frowned at her, watching her lips form the words. "Nott Sr. mentioned them."

His eyes dropped to the ink on her arm before he turned again, stepping resolutely up to the table. He picked up the closest book, flipping through a few pages.

"So you are researching how to escape. And you want my assistance with that." He let the spine snap closed, tucked his hand in his pocket, and turned to look at her coolly.

Her brows knitted together, and she swallowed. "How to get around the boundary lines, yes, but—"

"What do you think happens to me if my Lot runs away? To my parents?" He leaned back on the table, feet crossed at the ankles.

Her jaw clicked closed. "It's not just me, Draco. I'm working to free all of us. This is so much bigger than any one person—"

"So you're going to take off — without a wand — and meet up with 'the gang,' wherever they are — to attempt to destroy the most powerful wizard of our time, succeeding where Harry Potter failed." He crossed his arms over his chest. "And you'd like my help in opening your shackles. Me. A Death Eater."