She bit back her disappointment as she dutifully pulled out her parchment, making a note about the translation. It would be so much easier if they had a shortcut. A key of some sort. She let her mind wander to Nott Sr. again.

She cleared her throat, the sound echoing in the silent room. Despite spending the last five days together, they'd hardly spoken. "Are you close with Theodore? It's hard to tell how much of the teasing is real."

His eyes slid to her from over the journal he was reading. "Not really."

"You used to be close, yes?"

He snapped the book closed, pressing his lips in a thin line. "What are you getting at?"

She bit her lip and shook her head. "Nothing. Just… wondering about the Initiation tomorrow evening."

She looked down at her notes again, feeling Draco's hot eyes on her. Now was not the time.

~*~

He didn't come to the library on Friday. He'd told her as they were turning in the night before that he would need to prepare for the Initiation.

"What does it entail?" she'd asked, her hand on her door knob as he hovered in the hallway.

His jaw had clenched. And he'd told her in sparse detail about a ceremony that all the Dark Lord's servants attended. There was typically a party afterward, followed by hours of debauchery and destruction.

She spent all day Friday writing out the code, burying herself in work to forget. She and Draco had now translated fifty-four unique characters within Jeremiah Jones's journal. Still at least a thousand to go.

When the clock chimed ten, Hermione returned to her room and dragged her armchair over to the window so she could watch for Draco's bedroom light. Something tugged deep in her conscience, but she brushed it aside. His help was invaluable, and she needed him to be safe. She stayed up until three in the morning, nodding off here and there before giving up her watch, and tucking herself into bed.

She woke up the next day well after noon. Her body was sore from her futile armchair vigil, and she took a hot shower before changing into some comfortable clothes. Her breakfast tray was sitting on her coffee table, magically still steaming. She plopped down into her chair and poured her coffee.

She was halfway through munching on her piece of toast when she noticed a thick pamphlet poking out from under the tray. Hermione frowned and pulled it free.

Unspeakable: The Hall of Prophecies
Book One
by Lance Gainsworth

She stood, gaping at the words. Her fingers drifted through the pages, flipping through what seemed to be a manuscript. It was coverless, simply bound with a Sticking Charm.

Turning over the first page, she gasped. Written in a messy blue ink on the second page, she found a dedication.

Miss Granger,

Thank you for your support of my previous series, Undesirable . This, my first draft of book one in my new series, will be published next summer, as long as there's no change in the wind.