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“This is crazy,” Draco mouthed, his lips curled into a trademark sneer that reverberated through Hermione's skull even through her earmuffs. Moisture from the magical misting damped Draco's skin and hair, coating him in a glossy sheen and causing a single tuff of platinum blonde to stand erect. Hermione had a sudden irrational urge to smooth it. To run her fingers through that soft inviting hair. She quickly squashed the thought. They may be civil colleagues, but even a hint of friendship had eluded them. Draco's mumbled, stuttered apology on their first day had been swiftly accepted and they'd settled into a working relationship that could be commended for its efficiency of words. She sometimes wondered if, given different pasts, they could've been something more. A future where Draco would accept her touch, perhaps even reciprocate it. But some thoughts were better off discarded; some dreams were never meant to be.
The irate mandrake writhed as Draco's hand firmly gripped its deep green leaves. Its mouth hung open in a scream that their ear protection didn't completely eradicate.
“Not particularly,” Hermione replied with a shrug. It was hardly surprising that the Department of Mysteries would be interested in studying animagus transformation and as the employees with the highest NEWT results in transfiguration and potions they were the most obvious candidates for the assignment. If she was being completely honest with herself, it was an intriguing proposition. Ever since the lesson in first year where Professor McGonagall had leapt from her desk as she changed from cat to human, Hermione had wondered if one day she would complete the requisite steps.
Hermione used her wand to elevate some of the earth from the large terracotta flower pot in front of Draco, suspending it in a bubble above him. Draco quickly deposited the unhappy mandrake into the soil. Hermione released her spell and the soil compacted around the still struggling plant.
Draco flung his earmuffs onto the floor. “Utterly ridiculous,” he muttered. “Stupid plant, there's a reason I didn't take a NEWT in herbology. Surely the Ministry could have provided us with the leaves.”
“The project’s secret, you know that. Nothing in, nothing out.”
“It still came in though, didn't it?” He gestured at the mandrake with its still bristling leaves.
“Yes, but via our colleague.” Hermione shook her head; Luna had brought in the mandrake. Her outwardly crazy persona was an excellent decoy for a host of strange ingredient requests. Luna’s excitement for this current project was almost contagious in its intensity; anything they needed she secured with barely a moment's notice. “Have you thought about how you are going to secure it?”
“Semi-permanent sticking charm to the inside of my cheek,” Draco replied. He plucked a leaf from the now still plant and laid it on the bench in front of him.
“I've borrowed some dental bonding agent from my parents’ practice.” Hermione pulled the tube of paste from her pocket and placed it next to her freshly plucked leaf.
Draco traced a finger across the veins of his leaf, softly stroking the patterned underside. A tender caress that would be welcome across her skin.
Hermione took a deep breath, another image to consider later. Later, with a stiff drink and a healthy dose of solitude.
“Anyway, we best get on with it. Moon rise is…” She flicked her wand and pulled up an intricate web of dates and times, “...in about five minutes,” she finished.
“Urgh,” Draco groaned, his face scrunching up as he popped the leaf into his mouth and directed the wand at his cheek. “Tastes vile.”
Hermione agreed it was not a pleasant sensation. Bitterness laced with an undercurrent of magic. It tugged at something deep within her. No one had ever said the month would be easy.
“Where are we?” Hermione asked. The branches of gnarled oak trees knit together overhead, blocking out any semblance of the early morning sun.
Luna skipped barefooted beside them. “The forbidden forest,” she sang. “I arranged with a friend to guard this location for us, to ensure it was undisturbed.”
“A friend?” Draco sneered. “You have friends? That live here?”
Luna just laughed. Apparently she never let Draco's barbs affect her; Hermione was impressed. Since an incident in their first month at the ministry that has resulted in a large number of small birds chasing him down the corridor, Draco had learnt not to cross Hermione. He now danced around her as if she was an erumpent horn. But with Luna some of his acerbic personality still shone through.
“You'll see.” Luna let out a high pitched twittering call. She brushed several stands of her long blonde hair back and cupped a hand behind her ear. Eyes closed she took three slow deep breaths. “He's coming,” she murmured.
“Who?” Hermione asked.
Luna pressed a finger to her lips.
A single set of hoofbeats echoed through the trees.
“The moon is bright tonight,” the centaur called, a melodic rumble that hinted at a rushing wind through a copse of trees. His deep chestnut haunches merged into the pale skin of his chest. Reddish brown hair tumbled past his shoulders in loose ringlets. A bow hung loosely from one arm; a quiver of arrows was slung across his other shoulder.
“And Venus is in her ascendancy,” Luna replied.
“Indeed, child, indeed.” The centaur’s eyes alighted on Hermione and Draco. “These are your friends?”
“Yes,” Luna's voice rang out clearly as Draco shuffled on the spot. His brow creased in disagreement, but he remained silent.
Hermione held out her hand to the centaur. He stamped a hoof, with the briefest of inclines to his head.
“Human traditions mean nothing to us, child.”
She bit back her own response; she was not a child.
“We are grateful for your assistance, Ronan,” Luna interjected. “Would you show us the way?”
“Very well, follow me.” With a whinnying cry, Ronan rose on his hind legs. Then he set off at a trot, following a narrow path through the trees.
Stumbling over tree roots, Hermione had to jog to keep up. Draco muttered curses under his breath as he strode along at her side. Luna's hair glinted in the moonlight as she danced over fallen branches, fleet-footed and sure, in front of them.
After many minutes, Ronan halted. “Through there.” He gestured to the left with his bow. “The grass holds the dew and neither the morning nor evening light can penetrate. You are the first humans we’ve permitted here in many moons.”
“Thank you,” Hermione replied. Sinking to her knees to crawl under a low hanging branch, she reached out and gathered the glistening dew into a couple of glass ampules.
“I also brought you the gift you requested,” Ronan's low voice rumbled through the sodden earth. “The chrysalis of two Death’s-head Hawk Moths, found clinging to an ancient oak not two days ago.”
“You are most kind,” Luna's voice floated through the leaves. “May the stars light your ways.”
“And may the moon shine in your life,” Ronan responded.
Rapidly retreating hoofbeats faded into nothing.
Hermione scrambled back out of the bush. Draco's eyes flicked over her, before he reached out and removed a single leaf from her hair.
A shiver flashed through Hermione. Heat pooled in her abdomen. “Going to make a jibe about my appearance,” she snapped, attempting to hide her discomfort.
“What, no, I…” Draco stuttered, twirling the leaf through his fingers. He let it flutter to the floor. “I just… you had a leaf in your hair,” he finally concluded, his eyes never raising to meet hers. The silence stretched, as a cool breeze rustled the leaves above them.
“This way,” Luna called, cutting through the ice that hung in the air between them.
Hermione stepped towards her voice as a niffler rooted through her stomach. That gesture, removing a leaf. She'd have thought nothing of it if Harry or Ron had done so. What made Draco different?
A small clearing opened in front of them. Luna ushered them in front of her before she disappeared with the crack of apparition. All their research suggested that this stage should not be witnessed.
Hermione stooped and placed two small crystal phials on the ground. Rays of moonlight cascaded off then, casting rainbows on the bare earth.
Draco and Hermione knelt together and after removing the saliva soaked leaves from their mouths, they placed them in the moon-struck phials.
Hermione plucked a hair from her head and added it to the vial. Then she took the silver teaspoon and measured out one spoon of the freshly collected dew. Finally she added the chrysalis of the Death’s-head Hawk Moth.
Draco reached out a hand, she took it without thinking. His fingers were warm and slender. They spoke of security, of safety. He twisted and they tumbled together outside the ministry entrance, dropping their hold as they scrambled inelegantly to their feet.
Without a word they descended to the Department of Mysteries and stowed their vials in the cabinet that Luna had prepared.
Lightning rend through the night sky; rolling thunder echoed off the walls of Hermione's small bedroom. She sat bolt upright in bed, her heart pounding against her ribs. It was time.
For two and a half months she'd faithfully pointed the tip of her wand at her heart every sunrise and sunset, chanting ‘Amato Animo Animato Animagus.’ As days had bled into weeks she'd started to believe an echoing beat to that of her own heart replied.
She hurriedly pulled on her robe and apparated to the ministry entrance.
Their carefully prepared vials still lay hidden in that small room sequestered deep in the Department of Mysteries. Untouched and barely remembered for the intervening months.
Draco's platinum blonde hair flickered in the candlelight from the low hanging chandelier in the otherwise bare room. The blood red potion in its crystal vial firmly grasped between his slender fingers. He flicked off the cap.
The door creaked open as Luna bustled in. Hermione glanced across at the smiling witch. Luna waved airily at her.
“Excellent, you are both already here,” Luna cheerfully announced. “I can't wait to see what form you both take. I'll just set up the precautions.”
Luna hummed a jaunty ditty as she twirled her wand. A cascade of silver sparks settled in a ring around Draco and Hermione. The enchantment they'd agreed upon to ensure the safety of the Ministry in case either lost control of their new form.
“All ready,” Luna finally announced. She took a step back and rested against the wall.
Steel grey eyes met Hermione's as she slowly swirled her own potion.
“Together,” she suggested.
Draco nodded once, before raising the tip of his wand to his chest.
Hermione mirrored his motion; her own wand directed at her heart.
“Amato Animo Animato Animagus,” they incanted as one. Then, they downed the potion.
Pain flared outwards from her chest; the vial shattered on the stone floor. Fiendfyre flashed along every nerve, every sinew. Her heart pounded ferociously in her chest; an echoing beat answered.
Draco's mouth hung open in a silent scream. He dropped to the floor on his hands and knees. His wand rolled away from him.
Hermione closed her eyes.
Fluffy ginger fur flashed through her mind. A loud miaow. Crookshanks! A stab of pain at the memory of her dear, but departed, familiar. The bright orange faded to a mottled brown. A bottlebrush tail held aloft. Large tufted ears pricked in attention. Overwhelming happiness swept through her. What a perfect tribute to her beloved pet.
The prickling of a thousand tiny needles rushed over her as a warmth embraced her. Clothing morphed into something softer. Under her fingers the cold tiles. Her nose twitched at the earthy scent surrounding her, comforting but yet unfamiliar.
Something soft brushed past her cheek; her whiskers trembled. As her eyes opened she was greeted by a handsome, almost white with barely discernible spots, kneazle staring back at her. He blinked once.
She stretched languidly. Her claws scratched across the floor.
They circled each other, both tails aloft and still.
She nudged his nose with her own in greeting. He nudged back, then pressed against her as he brushed along her entire length. The vibrations of a purr welled up within her.
Hermione focussed hard on her human form. She forced herself to remember what it felt like to have fingers. The sensation of curls tumbling down her back. The texture of cloth against skin. Her limbs stretched as she morphed back.
“That was…” Hermione started, as heat raced across her cheeks. Had she really just cuddled up with Draco, even if in kneazle form, that was completely inappropriate for a work colleague.
“We did it,” Draco said, his tone almost wondering. “We did it.”
“How delightful,” Luna said, clapping her hands together and dancing on the spot. “How perfect. I always suspected of course, but this…”
“What did you suspect?” Draco snapped, stooping to retrieve his wand from where it had rolled.
“You and Hermione, the wrackspurts dance between you so beautifully. I always thought it was just a matter of time. But I didn't realise you already knew?”
“Knew what?” Hermione asked. She loved Luna, she really did, but sometimes she left out major details in explanations as if they should be obvious.
“That you are together,” Luna replied.
“We are not together!” Draco interjected. “Don't be ridiculous, if we were together, then…” He stopped abruptly, his cheeks glowing red.
“But they match, you must be. ”
“McGonagall’s a cat too, do you think we are in some sordid threesome?” Draco sneered.
“But you aren't cats, those are kneazles. The delicate spots, the tails. And you transformed together. It's a sign!” Luna’s voice rose higher as she punctuated her words with a flick of her wand, cascading golden sparks all around them. “All the signs I research were there.”
“Luna,” Hermione spoke in an almost whisper. “Draco and I are work colleagues, nothing more. These forms are an unfortunate coincidence. Isn't that right? Draco?”
She looked across at Draco, he did not meet her gaze. “It's certainly a coincidence…” he eventually muttered.
“Anyway, there's no way we'd be suited,” Hermione continued. “Sacred twenty eight Pureblood and Muggleborn. We can work together but anything more, well, Draco would think that preposterous.”
“I did not say that!” Draco's eyes finally raised to hers, the light grey swirling with some emotion Hermione could not place. “Those ideas are dead to me. Have you not believed a word I've said since we started working together?” And with that he stormed from the room. The door slammed shut.
“What? Why?” Hermione was lost, what had brought on such a display. There was nothing between them. They respected each other as competent individuals. And that was all, wasn't it?
“Hermione,” Luna said, laying a hand on her arm. “Draco likes you. It's obvious to everyone, except apparently you.”
“But he can't…”
“Why can't he?”
“He's him and I'm, well, me.”
“He's changed since school.” Luna’s hand gripped her chin, her light eyes boring deep into Hermione's soul. “And you, you like him too. Perhaps you've simply not admitted it yet.”
“I… I…” Could that be true? He was intelligent and competent, qualities Hermione had always admired. And those snippets of fancy she’d hastily squashed as preposterous, what if she didn't need to quash them?
“Go after him.” Luna's voice interwove with her thoughts. “Draco is many things, but he's not going to make the first move. He's too afraid of his history for that. If you want him, and the nargles don't lie, tell him.”
Luna's hand pressed into Hermione's back, pushing her towards the door.
Hermione stepped into the corridor.
“Draco,” she called, her heart thudding against her ribs. “Draco,” she shouted louder.
He strode round the corner. His posture apparently completely relaxed, but the tension around his eyes betrayed something of his apprehension.
“Hermione,” he replied.
“Is it true?”
“Is what true?”
“Do you like me?” Hermione stepped closer, meeting him eye to eye.
Draco hesitated. “I…” he started. He took a breath, Adam's apple bobbing in his neck. His eyes flicked to her lips.
It was all the evidence Hermione needed. She pressed onto her tiptoes, placing one hand on his chest, and met his lips with her own.