"This is your last year here, Hermione," Ginny said with exasperation. "One day you'll look back and wonder about all the fun you didn't have, all the crazy things you didn't do..."

Hermione threw herself back onto her four-poster bed with a sigh. She hadn't even graduated Hogwarts yet, and she already worried about the many things she still might not accomplish. But her worries were mostly academic. It hadn't occurred to her that she wasn't having enough fun.

Ginny sat down next to her, jabbing her lightly. "Listen, I know you're not tired yet, so you might as well. It'll be so much fun. You're not going to make me go alone are you? At this time of night?"

Hermione folded her arms. "If I go, if, then we musn't get caught... Oh, and I don't have anything packed to swim in..."

Ginny squealed with delight. She knew she'd talk Hermione into it; it was only a matter of time. Hermione got up and walked over to the foot of her bed with an exasperated sigh. As it was still the first week of the school year, she hadn't yet unpacked all of her things.

"Oh, surely I have a pair of shorts in here, or maybe a long shirt," Hermione muttered to herself as she opened up her worn leather suitcase and peered through her neatly folded clothing.

"Oh, come off it," Ginny laughed. "It'll just be you and I, and it's pitch black outside. What's your bra and panties but a lacy swimsuit, anyway?" she said casually. Hermione laughed.

"Alright, let's go!"

The two girls each shoved their wands into their jean pockets and ran out of the dormitory, leaving the rest of the Gryffindor girls to talk the night away amongst themselves.

It was an arduous task navigating down the many, moving flights of stairs without running into anyone. As they finally reached the dimly lit main hall, Ginny gave Hermione a reassuring smile. Lit torches and magnificent tapestries lined the walls. The room seemed so much bigger with just them in it.

Before they could help themselves, the two girls were running through the grass in a mad dash towards the lake, wind whipping through their hair. Even Hermione couldn't help but burst into wild laughter.

Fortunately, the moon was shining and whole like a giant Galleon. They reached the edge of the lake, and immediately began pulling off their shoes and socks, then pants, and then laughing maniacally as Ginny got her head stuck while trying to pull her blouse off, and Hermione had to help her out of it.

Meanwhile...

Draco heaved a sigh as he stared at the top of his canopy bed. All the other Slytherin guys were still excited about the start of the new school year, making the dormitory a very loud and boisterous place. Blaise was sitting at a dark, polished desk, playing wizard's chess and loudly complaining or bragging about every move. Crabbe was telling Goyle about some kid he'd sent to St. Mungo's with a hex over the summer. Draco, resting his head back on his folded arms, suddenly sat up and jumped off his bed.

"I don't know where the party is, fellows," Draco announced dramatically, "but it certainly isn't here." With that, he walked down the stairs, out the common room, and began wandering the empty halls of Hogwarts castle.

The handsome Slytherin passed by empty classrooms and sleeping portraits, looking around for anything that might distract him from boredom. He found himself unusually anxious. It was only the start of the year, nothing interesting was brewing yet. He'd have to make his own fun.

With sudden determination and his trademark smirk, he dashed through the fire-lit halls, careful to avoid the few teachers and prefects out.

I'll walk out to the Quidditch stadium, get a spare broom and fly around. Nothing clears my head like flying.

A short while later, he slipped out the main doors into the moonlit grounds. He shoved his hands into his pants pockets and began striding through the grass, grinning to himself. He was a seventh year. Another year older, another year wiser. He ruled the school. He felt like he could fly right there, even without a broom. Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted by an odd sound that made him stop in his tracks.

There it was again. A scream, most definitely. Another one! No, this was more like a squeal. Draco began running toward the sound, fueled by curiousity.

Either someone's being mauled by the Giant Squid, or they're up to something naughty...

As he got closer to the Great Lake, he saw a silhouette by the water. Out of instinct, he ducked behind a tree and listened a moment.

"What are you doing!?" said a female voice

"Shh, keep your voice down!" came another.

Draco couldn't resist anymore. He brushed his light blonde hair out of his face and cocked his head from behind the tree. There in the moonlight stood a young woman, a silhouette. Draco was rapt in awe. She had a slim figure and was wearing only a bra and panties. The moon fell on one of her hips and down her right leg. She had a thin waist and long arms, which she stretched out to her sides. Then in one graceful movement, she dove forward, arms together, into the water. Draco unknowingly dug his fingernails into the bark of the tree he was leaning against.

The other voice, coming from a tiny head bobbing in the water, squealed again.

"You splashed me! Blimey, it's cold!"

"Didn't I tell you I'd taken diving lessons a few years ago?"

Draco's heart raced as he unknowingly stepped farther out from behind the tree, completely entranced. He watched again as the mysterious girl walked slowly out of the water again, reaching up to wrap her wet hair in a bun. Unfortunately, because the moon was on the other side, he couldn't see much detail about her. Just her silhouette and the few fleeting places the moonlight touched on her. He felt like running out to meet her, but restrained himself.

"Wait, Hermione," said the floating head. "If you're going to dive again, at least let me swim out of your way!"

Hermione?!

Draco heard himself scoff, and ducked behind the tree again. The mystery girl was Hermione Granger. The girl he was staring at not one moment ago was a lowly Mudblood. The same witch who had punched him in the face a few years ago.

"Get out of the water," Hermione hissed to Ginny as she started gathering up her clothes. "Someone's here!"

Draco took advantage of the fact that she was scrambling to pick up her clothes and started sprinting toward the castle again. He could hear the two girls cursing faintly in the background and stifled a laugh. He would enjoy using this against her.

The two girls didn’t stop running until they reached the Gryffindor common room, collapsing in front of the fire. Ginny, whose hair was still sopping wet, was doubled over with laughter.

“Keep it down!” Hermione hissed, pointing her wand at Ginny and blasting her with a drying charm. Ginny’s bright red hair flew back and then settled lightly on her shoulders.

“Someone saw me!” Hermione whispered in a panic.

“I was out there, too!”

“But you were almost completely underwater! I was walking about in my undergarments, and someone went and saw me!”

Ginny stopped laughing abruptly and gasped aloud. “What if it was Filch?!”

Hermione grabbed a throw-pillow from the couch and threw it at Ginny angrily.

“Oh, why did I let you talk me into it?” Hermione groaned. She leaned back on the couch, slowly taking off her shoes. “It couldn’t have been Filch anyway; he never goes out on the grounds. He always walks the halls with his precious Mrs. Norris.”

Ginny stood up and stretched her hand out to Hermione, whose wavy brown hair was wildly mussed.

“Let’s get to bed, ‘Mione. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”
•

The next morning, Harry and Ron exchanged puzzled looks as Ginny and Hermione wolfed down their breakfast before them. This was not a typical sight at all. Usually Hermione was birdlike, picking occasionally at her food while still looking over a paper or flipping through a giant book. This particular morning, however, her curly brown hair was tied back messily with a clip, and she kept her big brown eyes down at her plate. Hermione couldn't shake the feeling that she was still under the watch of those mysterious eyes.

“Is something wrong?” Harry asked, looking back and forth between the two girls.

“No!” Ginny exclaimed, nearly choking on a bit of egg.

“Why?” Hermione said quickly, trying to calm her voice. “Had you heard anything?”

“What are you on about?” Ron said, pointing his fork accusingly at Hermione. He and Harry again exchanged looks of puzzlement.

At that moment, dozens of owls swooped in through the ceiling, bringing in the fresh morning air with them. Owls of all colours and sizes circled and dived, dropping packages delicately in front of students here and there. Much to Hermione’s surprise, an unfamiliar owl dropped down next to her mug of orange juice and held out its tiny leg. Attached to it was a small bit of parchment, held on only by a crude bit of twine. She unraveled it and held it up to her nose. It said only this:

I saw you.

Hermione’s face went pale and she cleared her throat loudly in Ginny's direction.

“Oh, um… we’re quite full,” Ginny rushed, dropping her fork.

“Yes, we have to, er… stop by the library before Potions,” Hermione stammered. “We’ll see you in class!”


Before the boys could utter a word, the two girls hurried, heads down, out of the Great Hall. Ron leaned over to Harry, eyes darting suspiciously.

“Bet it’s their ‘time of the month’, what d’you think, Harry?”

“At the same time?”
•

When Harry and Ron arrived at Snape’s Potions class, they found that Hermione was already there. She was sitting next to Neville, whispering hurriedly. Suddenly, Harry felt someone bump into him, hard.

“Watch it, scar-head,” said the handsome Slytherin with a grin. Draco pushed by him and took his seat next to Blaise. They immediately leaned back in their chairs and began laughing heartily.

Ron shook his head. “Miserable ferret.”

Before they could do anything, Snape burst forward into the classroom, causing a hush to fall across the students. He immediately began droning about the day’s lesson, but Draco found it hard to concentrate. He’d been dying to see Granger’s reaction since he sent her that note by owl. She must be completely mortified!

He turned his head cautiously to glance back at her. She was sitting next to that ever-pathetic Neville, looking down solemnly at her Potions book. Her light brown hair was tied up in a messy knot, leaving tendrils around her face. Her big brown eyes, which were normally quite pensive and concentrating, now only looked sorrowful. For a moment, just a moment, he felt a tinge of pity. Suddenly Draco leaned forward and began scribbling on a bit of parchment. After a moment, he ripped off a piece and folded it several times. He waited until Snape’s back was to him, and then tapped the folded bit of parchment lightly with his wand.

“Aracneo ad Granger,” he whispered. Then he quickly dropped the paper to the ground. It sprouted eight spindly paper legs and began crawling awkwardly across the floor. Draco smirked to himself as he watched the lively bit of parchment crawl into Hermione’s book-bag and nestle inside.

He took a moment to look again at the Gryffindor girl, dressed in long robes. He tried to picture the silhouette he’d seen the night before, still in disbelief that it was the same girl. There… the same slender shoulders, those long arms, the flat stomach...if only I could catch her standing up.

Just as Hermione lifted her left leg up to cross it over her right, Draco was shaken out of his stare by an elbow to his side. Blaise was staring at him curiously. Draco lifted an arm up as though he’d back-hand his friend, and then shook his head. From then on, he tried to pay attention to the rest of class.
•

“Ginny! Over here,” Hermione called. She was leaning against the stone wall surrounding the Herbology greenhouses, a long distance away from the entrance. Ginny came running over immediately, her book-bag slung over her shoulder. Hermione was holding hers out like it was infectious.

“Another note?” Ginny panted.

Hermione nodded, and reached into her bag. She delicately pulled out the spider-like bit of folded parchment, frowning.

“Well, what’s it say?” Ginny said impatiently.

“I don’t know! I can’t unfold a spider!”

Ginny snatched it out of Hermione’s hands and unfolded the parchment, which squealed one last time. She read it aloud.

“Why so shy?”

“That’s all it says?” Hermione yelped, closing her fists.

“That’s all,” Ginny sighed. “It says ‘Why so shy?’”.

Hermione wrapped her arms around her waist as though she might be sick. Ginny immediately came and put an arm around her friend.

“Someone’s toying with you, ‘Mione. But we’ll get him. We’ll find him out, I swear.”

Hermione nodded, biting her lip to keep from crying. A moment later, they parted to go to their separate classes. Little did they know, a steel-eyed Slytherin had watched it all from afar.
•

As soon as it was lunchtime, the girls rushed into the Great Hall. Since they had no classes together, it was hard for them to find time to talk. As soon as they sat down at their table, they immediately pushed their plates aside and pulled out a piece of parchment. Ginny immediately began scribbling, putting an arm in front of the paper so Harry and Ron couldn’t read.

Are you sure it was a boy? Ginny wrote. She slid the parchment quickly over to Hermione.

I heard a gasp, and it sounded like a guy. And they had very heavy footsteps as they ran off.

Maybe it was a very fat girl, with an unusually low voice?

Hermione scoffed as she put her quill to the parchment.

I’m absolutely sure it was a guy! Who else would be standing there ogling us? Besides, the handwriting in these notes I’m getting is very sloppy, like a guy’s.

What about a teacher walking the grounds? Ooh, what if it was Snape? What if Snape saw you in your undies, Hermione? Wouldn’t you just die?

It couldn’t have been a teacher or prefect; they would’ve docked house-points immediately and then dragged us, soaking and all, up to McGonagall’s office! Therefore, it had to be a student.

Well that narrows it down, I suppose…

Suddenly, Ginny noticed Ron trying to lean over his plate and read what she was writing.

“Mind your business!” Ginny squealed, shoving the note towards Hermione. Ron, still leaning over his plate, tried to grab it.

“What’s the big secret, then?” he said furiously.

“You really want to know?” Hermione said stiffly.

“Yeah, I do!”

Hermione leaned in closely and pointed her finger at Ron’s chest.

“You’ve got jam on you.”

It was true; Ron had gotten strawberry jam on his robes whilst trying to get a peek at that note. As he scrubbed at it with his napkin, the girls got up from the table and walked quickly towards the door. Instinctively, Hermione glanced towards the Slytherin table. Draco was stretching out his long arms, and then ran his hand through his shaggy blonde hair as he turned to talk to Blaise. Hermione nearly walked into Ginny as they got to the door. Ginny grabbed her hand and yanked her quickly out of the Great Hall.

As soon as they got into the hallway, Ginny turned to face Hermione, beaming.

“I’ve got an idea. First we have to write Fred and George…”

Hermione was normally quite captivated during her Runes class, but she simply couldn’t focus. Someone had caught her swimming in the lake with very little clothing on, and was taunting her with little notes. She cringed at the thought of it, leaning her head on her hand. It might not have been a big deal, had they not been caught. Like Ginny said… what’s your bra and underwear but a lacy swimsuit? She bit her lip, trying not to feel ashamed of herself.

It’s not my fault. Some heartless person is using something perfectly innocent to torture me. I don’t deserve it. I don’t.

Hermione reached up and untied her hair, letting it hang down her shoulders. She felt like hiding. Ever since that morning, she felt like everyone was staring at her. But there was hope yet. Ginny had the idea to write to Fred and George. She didn’t say exactly what for, but that Hermione should meet her in the Owlery after class. Hermione was counting the minutes.
•

Hermione dashed breathlessly all the way up the steps, heartened by the sounds of fluttering wings. When she got inside, she saw Ginny Weasley standing by the open window with an owl perched on her arm. The owl immediately flew out the window and disappeared into the great blue afternoon sky.

“I had the perfect idea,” Ginny said with a grin. “That letter I just sent is addressed to Fred and George at their shop in Diagon Alley. They have some new joke item called ‘Red Handed’. It’s quite brilliant; it’s used to catch people pilfering your things or what not. In this case, we could use it to discover your creepy admirer.”

Hermione smiled gratefully as she hugged Ginny. “Oh, that’s fantastic! How does it work? How did you think of it?”

Ginny frowned. “The twins were testing it out over the summer. They dusted a plate of cookies with the stuff, and… let’s just say that whoever touches it will be quite notably marked."

Hermione nodded. “If the culprit sends another owl, we can send the same owl back to them with our own little note. As soon as the creep opens it, we’ll know who saw us!”

The two girls began to head back down the stairs and into the grounds. “It’ll take a day or so,” Ginny warned. “I sent the owl to their shop, asking them to send us back a bottle of Red Handed. I told them it’s important."

“Let’s hope they respond quickly.”
•

That night at dinner, Draco strode proudly into the Great Hall with a brilliant smile. His luck was perfect. He’d gotten that pathetic Mudblood in quite a situation, with ample opportunity to torture her further. As he took his seat next to Crabbe and Goyle, his fellow Slytherins all greeted him warmly.

“What are you smirking about?” Blaise said suddenly. Crabbe and Goyle were too engaged with their dinners to have noticed. Draco stopped smirking immediately and looked coolly over at Blaise.

“What are you on about?”

“You’re up to something, aren’t you?”

Pansy immediately raised her head, looking curiously at Draco with her little pug face. She had shoulder-length jet black hair and blunt bangs that stopped just before her eyebrows.

“You haven’t said anything to me, Draco,” Pansy said with a sneer.

Draco looked over dismally at Pansy. The two of them flirted on and off, but nothing ever really happened. She was pureblood and of good parentage, but she had nothing else going for her. She had pale skin and an odd figure, and that snouty little face. Draco found himself in his mind’s eye once again, looking at the long, lean silhouette by the water. Suddenly, he clenched his teeth.

“If it concerns you,” Draco said to Pansy icily, “you’ll be the first to know.” He raised an eyebrow at Blaise, as if to say “I’ll tell you later,” and they finished their meal in silence. Draco couldn’t help but glance up every now and then to peek at the Gryffindor table. Occasionally he’d have to lean left or right slightly to get a view of Hermione past rows of moving students, but he saw her. She was laughing and talking, pointing her fork playfully at Weasley and leaning one elbow on a giant book. Draco felt a fire in the pit of his stomache.

Suddenly she was laughing, her dark brown eyes glittering playfully. She had a crooked smile, almost as though she was holding back a little. She reached out and touched Ron’s hand playfully. Suddenly, Draco found that he’d lost his appetite and arose from the table. He stormed out of the Great Hall and to the Slytherin common room with a sneer.

What the bloody Hell is she so happy about?

Draco went straight up to his dormitory, tearing his robes off along the way. He pushed back the forest green curtains of his canopy bed and reached down into his trunk, pulling out a t-shirt and boxers. After he changed, he leaned back onto his bed with a groan. He crossed his arms over his face, trying to relax his breathing. After what seemed like a long time, he got up and slid off his bed, and sat down at a desk. Taking out a piece of parchment and quill, he sat poised to write. Unfortunately, nothing could come to his mind.

Suddenly he started scribbling, jamming the quill hard into the paper.

What are you so smug about? You’re not that attractive, if that’s what you think!

Draco growled to himself, balled up the paper, and tossed it behind him. He grabbed another bit of parchment and again held the quill in mid-air, trying to think of something, anything that would make Hermione miserable. Something that would humiliate or terrify her. Something that would get a reaction.

Again, he began scribbling.

Give me one reason why I shouldn’t tell the entire school what I saw.

Draco smiled to himself as he folded the note up. He’d take it to the Owlery the next morning, before breakfast. He closed his eyes as he appreciated his own brilliance. He might even get blackmail out of this! Perhaps, in exchange for his secrecy, Granger would be forced to be his Mudblood servant. Yes, she could do his homework for him, write all his papers, scrub his cauldron after every Potions class…

Draco went to bed that night with thoughts of having Hermione Granger at his beck and call. Little did he know, these thoughts would bleed into his dreams.

Draco slept restlessly that night, tossing and turning in his forest-green sheets. After writing his next taunting letter to Hermione, which threatened to tell the entire school about her midnight dip, he climbed into bed with thoughts of her swimming around his head. After she received this next note, he had thought drowsily, she would owe him for the rest of her life. She would do his homework for him, scrub his cauldron after Potions, polish his wand… as he fell deep into sleep, these thoughts seeped into his dreams.

Draco looked up to see the entire Great Hall before him, busy with students of all years eating their meals and talking amongst themselves. He was seated at the main table, in Dumbledore’s chair. The headmaster was nowhere to be seen. Draco smiled to himself in his seat of authority and reached forward to pick up his chalice. Suddenly, Hermione reached her hand over and placed it gently on top of his. In his dream, Draco looked up and smiled at her, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. She was wearing a long, lilac gown and her hair was done up. She gave him that trademark crooked smile.

“Are you sure you’re thirsty?” she asked with a laugh. Her hand was still holding his, inches away from his goblet.

Draco hesitated. His stomach felt like it was on fire, and it licked his insides all the way up into his rib cage. His heart was pounding.

“I’m sure.”

Draco took the chalice in his hand and drank from it. When he lowered it again, he saw that it was filled with dark water. The torches of the great hall reflected in it like sparkles, or moonlight. Hermione smiled with relief and leaned toward him. Draco put his hand under her chin and pulled her forward, licking his lips. But all of a sudden…

“Draco, get up!” Blaise shouted. Draco could hear from behind the canopy of his bed that Blaise was stomping around. Draco sat up immediately, running his hands through his wild blonde hair. That’s when he noticed that the dream he’d just experienced had made him somewhat… aroused. Draco grabbed his pillow and put it in his lap.

“You’d better have a Hell of a good reason for waking me up, Zabini,” Draco growled. He was overcome with the desire to lie back down and continue dreaming.

Blaise tore back the canopy surrounding Draco’s bed, causing him to grip the pillow tighter.

“I can’t find my wand,” Blaise said irritably.

“Did you check your robes?”

“Of course.”

“Your book-bag?”

“Yes!”

“Under your bed?”

Blaise smacked his forehead before ducking down to look under his bed. Sure enough, his wand had rolled underneath it into the shadows. He stood back up, pocketing his wand with sigh of relief.

“Mind your wand,” Draco snapped.

“And you, yours,” Blaise replied with a chuckle.
As Blaise left down the staircase to the common-room, Draco threw one arm over his pillow and used the other to yank the canopy back around his bed. He let himself fall back into bed with a thud.

It’s still early yet. I can make it to the owlery before breakfast.

Hermione and Ginny looked at each other in shocked silence, deaf to the bustling conversation-filled breakfast going on around them. In Hermione’s hand was yet another tiny note from their mysterious voyeur.

Give me one reason why I shouldn’t tell the entire school what I saw.

Hermione whimpered, looking over at Ginny with raised brows. She tilted the note toward her, causing Ginny to go wide-eyed as well. Harry and Ron cleared their throats loudly.

“Is something wrong?” Harry asked, adjusting his glasses. He and Ron had been quite confused by their behaviour the past few days. Ginny and Hermione both looked up instantly, fumbling for an explanation.

“This, um, girl we know,” Hermione stammered, “She’s got boy troubles.”

“Terrible boy troubles,” Ginny interjected.

“She needs our counsel; she’s very distraught!”

“Terribly distraught!”

Hermione and Ginny fumbled with their book bags, snatching everything up at once.

“We have to go right away,” Hermione said as calmly as possible. “Er.. Mary Sue needs us.”

Ginny grabbed a biscuit from her plate and the two hurried from the Great Hall, leaving their breakfasts almost untouched. Ron shrugged and leaned over, taking a strip of bacon from Hermione’s plate. Harry, however, was deep in thought.
•

"We’ve been here for hours!” Ginny groaned, pacing back and forth. “This isn’t how I’d like to spend my Saturday.” As soon as the two had left the Great Hall, Hermione had dragged her outside to the sun-filled grounds until they once again stood by the lake. The sunshine glittered on the water’s surface, almost too bright to stand.

“I wish you still had your time turner,” Ginny murmured after a long silence. “Then we could go back and sneak up on the creep while he was watching us.”

Hermione wrung her hands as she leaned heavily against a tree. It was the very same tree their mysterious voyeur had been hiding behind when they were seen that moonlit night.

“We have to wait here just a little longer,” Hermione begged. She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “He’s using threats to get something out of us. The only way we can respond is to meet him, and this is the only place we have in common.” Another tear rolled down her cheek, which she wiped away quickly, willing her lip not to tremble.

Ginny growled to herself, putting her hands over her lightly freckled face. “We don’t need to do anything! I’m so sick of this; I’d rather just walk the halls in my underwear than have some jerk threaten to describe it to people! Wouldn’t you?” She balled her hands into fists. “Why should he get to pull our strings?”

Hermione turned her face upward to the canopy of leaves. The thin rays of sunlight dotted across her face.

“You’re right.”

Ginny looked at Hermione, then up to the sky with wonder. A dusty, brown barn owl was flying through the air, getting nearer and nearer. Before Hermione could speak, Ginny held her arm out and waited. The owl swooped down gracefully, dropping the parcel it had been holding, and perched atop Ginny’s forearm.

“It’s here!” Hermione gasped, snatching up the parcel. As Ginny petted the owl appreciatively, Hermione sat down in the grass, eager to open their surprise. She carefully tore away the paper packaging to find a small, red bottle with a note attached.

Dear Ginny:
We’re thrilled you’ve taken interest in our innovative new product. Please accept this bottle of Red Handed free of charge, as a thank you for being an unwilling test-subject this summer! Now we’re even. Please do write back with the results, and all the painful, gut-wrenching details! And do say hello to Hermione!
From the sincere hearts of your dearest brothers,
Fred and George

Ginny lifted her arm and the owl took off immediately, swooping back and forth into the afternoon sun. She sat down in the grass next to Hermione, and the two girls examined the bottle breathlessly. It had a round shape, and the potion glimmered like liquid ruby. This bottle of Red Handed would reveal the identity of Hermione’s torturer. All they had to do was wait for another note from him, douse a reply with the stuff, and send the owl he used back to him. Ginny hurriedly tucked the bottle into her pocket and grabbed Hermione by the elbow.

“The ball is in our court, now,” Ginny said with a wicked grin. “This won’t go on much longer, Hermione. I promise. We’ll soon know who the midnight voyeur is!”

“Chin up, then!” Hermione said with relief as she pulled Ginny towards the castle. They’d been out in the grounds so long that it was almost time for lunch.
•

Draco found himself quite restless as everyone else enjoyed the mid-day meal around him. He kept glancing up towards the entrance to the Great Hall, and scanning the Gryffindor table with his eyes. He didn’t want to admit it to himself at first, but he was searching the room for Granger. He simply couldn’t wait to see her face. Suddenly, he shut his eyes tight. As he retreated into his mind for a moment, he made a point to remind himself that he was looking for her solely in the sense that he was a hunter seeking his prey. His enemy. His victim. When he opened his eyes again, the petite brunette was standing near the entrance, wearing a dark blue T-shirt and jeans. Her wavy hair was pinned up, and she had a hand on her hip. Draco’s eyes followed those hips down toward long, graceful legs. He’d seen that lean, feminine figure before. He was looking at Granger.

She and the Weasley girl were talking animatedly. Hermione kept one hand on her hip, which was cocked to one side. The other hand was waving about in the air like a bird. It dawned on him that she must already have received his note, yet she was shockingly unfazed. Draco stared at her with utter confusion. She was chatting away as though nothing was wrong. Anger boiled up in his stomach. He’d been looking forward to seeing her face all day. What’s the point of torturing someone if they don’t care?

Suddenly, Draco felt eyes burning into him. He turned to see Pansy staring at him incredulously from behind her blunt, dark bangs.

“Draco, where’s your head at? You’ve been sitting there with your fork in the air for a full minute!” Draco looked around to see that several of his housemates had noticed as well.

“The food is dreadful this evening,” he lied, trying not to watch Hermione walking toward her table. “Bloody, worthless house elves. I’d rather starve.”

Draco dropped his fork and stood up, leaving his housemates speechless. He gave his friends a curt nod, turned on his heel and left. As he walked out of the Great Hall, he had to fight the urge to look back with all of his will. Clearly, Granger had underestimated him.
•

Draco sat alone in his dorm, cracking his knuckles. He ran a hand through his platinum blonde hair, trying to keep it out of his eyes. Once again he found himself poised to write. With a low growl, he leaned back in his chair, allowing his mind to wander.

In his thoughts, Hermione was twirling in front of him, her wavy hair, loose and wind-blown. She sauntered toward him with her Mona Lisa smile, the bright brown eyes, those light freckles across her nose… she reached out her hand. She wanted him to go swimming with her. Suddenly, they were at the lake again. Just the two of them. Draco felt himself smile as he grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head. Just as he reached out to put his arms around her, he felt himself tipping backward.

Clunk.

Draco rubbed the back of his head with his hands. As he looked around, he realized he was lying on the floor.

I must’ve fallen asleep in the chair and fell backward. Thank Merlin no one was around to see that.

He climbed to his feet, pulled the chair back up, and sat down in it again. No more afternoon naps. His eyes glimmered with an unspoken inner torture. He picked up his quill again and pressed it against the parchment.

I’m still watching you.

He looked over the note for a moment, a little surprised at himself. Before he could hesitate, he folded up the paper and shoved it in his pocket. He ran all the way to the Owlery.

Having spent most of their Saturday morning pacing around the grounds, Hermione and Ginny retired to the Gryffindor tower for the afternoon. Up in their dormitory, a few girls were propped up on their beds, lazily reading various newspapers. One raven-haired girl even seemed to be glancing over the latest edition of The Quibbler.

Hermione sat at the desk next to her bed, fervently glancing back and forth between a large textbook and a scribbled sheet of parchment. She made notes every so often, occasionally tucking a strand of wavy hair behind her ear as she studied.

Ginny, however, was sitting cross-legged on the floor, trying a charm on one of her textbooks.

“C’mon,” she muttered to herself, biting her lip. As she held her wand steady, the colour of the book’s cover began to change before her eyes. The dull blue fabric suddenly began to soak up a greenish stain. It bled from the bottom corner up, inking the entire book cover emerald green.

“Take a look,” Ginny said with a laugh. “It’s the colour of Harry’s eyes!”

Hermione turned her head to see Ginny blushing lightly.

“You’ll never be over him, will you?” Hermione asked, closing her book.

Ginny shook her head, letting her hair fall in her face. Suddenly, a dark brown owl flew into the open window, settling atop Hermione’s pile of notes. In the afternoon sun, the owl looked almost auburn in colour.

Ginny stood up, dropping her book to the floor. As she walked over and put a hand on Hermione’s shoulder, the two of them hesitated breathlessly at the sight of a small bit of parchment tied to the owl’s leg. It was another note from him. The owl shook his leg impatiently, ruffling his feathers. Hermione untied the note and opened it with shaking hands. There, in scrawled black ink, it read:

I’m still watching you.

Wordlessly, Ginny removed the bottle of Red Handed and slammed it on the desk. Hermione immediately tore a large piece of blank parchment from her stack of notes and grinned as she began to write her reply.

Ever ask yourself why you’re still watching?

Ginny smiled wickedly as she watched Hermione reach across the desk and pick up the bottle of Red Handed. The contents glittered like dragon’s blood. She twisted the top off and tilted it gently above the note. One small ruby-like drop splashed onto the parchment and made a bright red blot. Suddenly, before their eyes, the red potion soaked into the parchment like watercolour and disappeared.

“Careful!” Ginny chided. Hermione pulled her sleeves down so that they covered her fingertips and she delicately picked up her note and rolled it up. She held it up to the owl’s leg as Ginny carefully tied twine around it while trying not to touch the poisoned paper. Once this was finished, they exhaled deeply.

“This is very important,” Hermione said sternly, looking into the owl’s deep black eyes. “You must take this back immediately to the person who sent you. Understand?”

The owl began flapping his wings immediately and dove out of the tower window. Hermione leaned forward to watch as the owl circled left around the castle.

“Just think,” Hermione said with awe. “My voyeur will be receiving that reply any moment now…”

“And getting a fist-full of red, too!” Ginny laughed.

Hermione smiled brightly, standing up from her desk. “So,” she said with a smirk, walking toward Ginny. “Tell me more about Harry’s eyes!”

Ginny covered her mouth as they both started laughing.

•
Meanwhile….

•

In the dark recesses of the Slytherin common-room, Draco wastes away his afternoon letting his mind wander. Usually it was easy for him to shut his eyes and find he was elsewhere, but Draco couldn’t keep his eyes shut for long with present company pestering him.

“Oi, Draco,” Crabbe said dully, elbowing the handsome blonde. Draco turned to look at him venomously. They had been sitting on the elaborate, hunter-green couch before the fireplace, while Goyle mindlessly tossed things into the blaze. Draco was quite annoyed to be interrupted from the wanderings of his mind.

“What’re you thinkin’ about?” Crabbe asked. Draco grimaced.

“None of your business,” he hissed, standing suddenly.

Crabbe looked on curiously as Draco rolled up the sleeves of his dark green shirt and headed out the portrait.

Draco walked mindlessly throughout the castle, his heart beating wildly. Eventually he pushed the main doors open and found himself standing in front of the expansive grounds. He took a deep breath and walked quickly toward the lake. The afternoon sun was copper-coloured and low in the sky, but he had a feeling of hope in his chest. He quickened his pace, running all the way to the edge of the lake. He turned and turned, looking all around, anxiously running his hand through his platinum blonde locks.

If she wanted to know who I was, he thought, she’d come here. This is the only place we have in common... why isn't she here?

Draco walked over toward the tree and slumped down it, sitting with his face in his hands. He felt desperate, like he was losing control. He wanted to punch something hard, but couldn’t will himself to get up. He sat in silence for a few minutes until he heard the familiar sound of a nearby owl. He tried to ignore it, but the sound of flapping got nearer and nearer. When he finally looked up, he saw the owl soaring over the lake and directly toward him. It was the very same one he’d picked from the Owlery that morning to send a note to Granger. Draco held out his arm, allowing the owl to perch. He removed the note with his other hand, letting the owl fly off into the sunset.

He bit his lip, unravelling the note hurriedly. It said simply:

Ever ask yourself why you’re still watching?

Draco furrowed his brow, insulted by the very idea.

“Because...” he stammered aloud, gripping the note firmly in frustration. “Because- ”

But before he could utter another word, his fingertips began to prickle and burn. He dropped the bit of parchment to the ground and held his hands out in front of his eyes. He watched helplessly as his strong, pale hands turned the colour of blood. They burned and itched terribly. Gasping in pain, he ran all the way back to the castle.
•

Harry and Ron gave each other looks of puzzlement during dinner that evening. The past several days had been quite unusual; specifically the behaviour of Hermione and Ginny. That evening, however, the girls were calm and talkative. Harry glanced over at Ron again, who merely shrugged.

“Girls,” he muttered under his breath.

“Oh, Harry, I meant to ask you,” Hermione said casually, her mouth twisting into a crooked smile. “What would you say is your favourite colour?” Ginny kicked her in the shin under the table, causing Hermione to jump. Her knee slammed against the underside of the table. As she winced in pain, Harry looked at them curiously.

“I don’t know,” he said thoughtfully. “Red, I suppose. Why?”

Before Hermione could respond, Ron held his mug out in the air.

“Speaking of red,” Ron announced smugly, “we ran into a certain slimy Slytherin just before dinner!”

Harry laughed knowingly.

“He was running like a madman, Malfoy was,” Ron continued, grandly waving his mug of pumpkin juice in the air. “His hands were scorched! It was so glorious, I nearly danced a jig right there!”

Harry laughed even harder at the thought of Ron’s dancing skills, but Hermione lowered her head in amazement. Ginny put a comforting hand on her shoulder, but Hermione felt like she couldn’t breathe. She felt her lungs deflating, her head getting dizzy. She reached over and grasped Ginny’s hand.

“Sod it,” Ron announced obliviously, beaming. “Here’s to Malfoy spending the rest of term in the Hospital wing!” He arose from his seat and began shaking his hips back and forth, pumping his fists in the air. Several girls from the Ravenclaw table whistled, but Hermione didn’t notice. She stared down at her plate, gasping for air.

Ginny grabbed her by the arm and pulled her up. Hermione arose weakly, looking quite petrified.

“Something wrong?” Harry asked, furrowing his brow.

Ginny opened her mouth to speak, but thought better of it. Instead, she just wrapped an arm around Hermione and walked her delicately out of the Great Hall.

When they got into an empty hallway, Hermione leaned against the cold, stony wall. As she closed her eyes, her mind went back to that night at the lake. She was standing there in her bra and underwater, her wet, wavy hair tied up in a bun. And someone, a man, had been watching her. Finally Hermione could give that man a face. She pictured Draco’s tall, lean frame by the tree, watching her. Staring at her intensely. Butterflies swirled around her stomach, and she felt light-headed again.

“What should we do?” Ginny asked delicately. Hermione still had her eyes shut, her wavy hair falling limply around her face.

Suddenly, Hermione looked up. Her dark brown eyes glimmered with an inner fire.

“I know what I want to do.”

Hermione began pacing back down the dimly-lit hallways towards the Great Hall. Everyone should still be finishing up their dinners; she might be able to catch Harry in time.

“Why are we going back there?” Ginny asked, jogging after her. “The boys… they’ll ask too many questions!”

Hermione continued on silently, her eyes narrowed. She stormed up to the Gryffindor table, Ginny trailing behind her.

“Harry, I need to ask you a favor,” Hermione said in a low voice. As he looked up, her face was pale with concentration, her lips pursed. It was the same look she got when someone broke a school rule in front of her.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, becoming increasingly concerned.

Hermione knelt down next to him, lowering her voice to a whisper.

“I need to borrow your Invisibility Cloak. I can’t explain. Just tell me where it is, I’ll get it myself.”

Harry looked at her with pleading eyes. He had known something was up for days, considering Hermione’s odd behavior. But that evening he got the distinct impression that it was much worse than he thought.

As Ron poked at his mashed potatoes obliviously, Hermione lowered her voice further.

“I know you want to help, Harry, but this is something I have to do on my own. Right now. Please… just tell me where the Cloak is.”

Harry sighed. “It’s at the bottom of my trunk, at the foot of my bed…”

She stood immediately to leave, but Harry caught her by the hand.

“If someone’s hurt you, threatened you…”

“I’ve got it under control,” she said firmly as she turned and walked away. Ginny gave him an apologetic look before running after Hermione once again.

When they got into the Gryffindor common room, Ginny hung back a little.

“Are you just going to walk into the boy’s dormitory?” Ginny asked with a slight smirk.

“It wouldn’t be the craziest thing I’ve done this term,” Hermione said exasperatedly.

Ginny grinned, running past her. Catching boys unaware in their dorm would be hilarious, indeed. Unluckily for them, however, the dorm was empty. Most students hadn’t yet left the Great Hall for the night.

“Perfect,” Hermione said aloud as she sat in front of Harry’s trunk. “Alohamora!” The lid popped open and she carefully began lifting Harry’s things out, looking for the cloak.

“Is that what I think it is?” Ginny said mischievously as she inched closer. One of the items Hermione had removed from Harry’s trunk was a blue pair of boxers covered with tiny Golden Snitches. Before she could say anything further, however, Hermione pulled out a long, elaborate cloak with a flourish. She held it in the air, admiring the fine stitching that seemed to change in colour depending on which angle you looked at it. She wrapped the cloak around her slender shoulders, revealing only her head bobbing in the air.

“Tell me,” Ginny pleaded. “What are you going to do?”

Hermione sighed, looking down at her invisible feet.

“Malfoy’s still in the Hospital Wing, and I assume he’ll have some visitors briefly after dinner. I’ll follow them in, and once he’s alone, I’m… I’ll… I don’t know. I’ll think of something!”

Ginny approached her slowly, hands clasped together. “Hermione, maybe you should wait a few days, when you're not so upset. Maybe when you’re thinking more clearly-”

“I can’t think clearly!” Hermione cried, her face getting red. “The absolute worst person imaginable is toying with me; it can’t go on a minute longer!” Tears started to stream down her face, and her hand emerged suddenly from the invisible cloak to wipe away her tears.

“I don’t feel like myself anymore, it’s like I’m losing control!”
•

Draco looked around the Hospital Wing in silence, eyes searching for anything that might pass the time. A house-elf had brought him a plate of dinner, but he couldn’t touch it with his bandaged hands. The burning sensation had decreased thanks to Madam Pomfrey, but it was still horribly uncomfortable. He leaned back in his bed; arms lying gently at his sides. He was the only patient in the wing; even Madam Pomfrey had left for the night. His only hope was that friends would stop by after dinner to see how he was feeling.

After what seemed like an hour, he heard the door open with a large groan. He looked over to see Pansy and Blaise walk into the room, smiling warmly. Oddly, however, the door seemed to hang open behind them a moment too long before it closed again.

“Where are my hordes of concerned admirers?” Draco said with a laugh as Pansy and Blaise each grabbed a chair.

“You know Crabbe and Goyle,” Blaise said dully. “Once they’ve got a full meal in them, they’re all tuckered out.”

“Thanks for coming,” Draco said awkwardly, trying not to look Pansy in the eyes. She seemed to glare at him constantly behind her blunt, dark hair.

“What happened, by the way?” Pansy asked suspiciously. “Your hands… how did you burn them?”

Draco clenched his fists without thinking, causing him to wince in pain. He couldn’t tell them the whole story, especially Granger’s part in it. He’d be a laughing stock at the very least- burned by a Mudblood. At the worst, his fellow Slytherins would go after her for revenge, and the idea of anyone else coming near her just didn’t sit right with him. She belonged to him.

“Someone played a joke on me,” Draco replied, trying to keep his voice level and nonchalant. “I got an anonymous letter, burned my hands, as you can see.”

“We’ll find out who did it,” Blaise assured him. “They’ll pay, tenfold.”

“I’m not too concerned,” Draco said airily. At this point, he just wanted them to leave. “Most everyone knows better than to mess with a Slytherin.”

After a few minutes longer, Pansy and Blaise finally stood up to leave.

“We’ll come back tomorrow, between classes,” Pansy whispered. Draco waved goodbye to them with giant, bandaged hands and rested his head on his pillow. This would be quite an uncomfortable way to sleep. He closed his eyes until he heard the door of the Hospital Wing shut and then opened his eyes again. The familiar silence was deafening.

So she knows. Or she probably knows. It was only a matter of time ‘til she figured it out, anyway. Sort of clever, really, marking me in order to smoke me out of the shadows. If she’s heard about my hands, then she knows I saw her. And I’m sure Potty and the Weasel were raving all about it…

As it occurred to him that Hermione probably knew about him, he began to feel a knot in his stomach. Here he was, bedded and helpless in bandages, vulnerable in his bed. It was her move now.
•
Ten minutes earlier…

Hermione stood completely cloaked against the cold wall facing the door to the Hospital Wing. Students were already leaving the Great Hall to go to their common-rooms, so it was only a matter of time. Everything around her was slightly gauzy in appearance due to the Invisibility Cloak, but there was no mistaking Pansy Parkinson. She shuffled up the hall with Zabini at her side, scrunching up her pug-face as they headed for the Hospital door. Hermione edged toward them quietly and hung back until they opened the door and then slipped in after them, unseen. As the two Slytherins started dragging chairs up to Draco’s bed, Hermione walked softly toward the bed opposite his and sat down on the edge of it. Watching him lay there helplessly without him knowing it gave her a glorious satisfaction. Moments later she realised she’d been holding her breath and let it out slowly, trying desperately not to give away her presence.

Hermione had to keep from snorting when Malfoy jokingly asked about his “hordes of concerned admirers”. Even now he was overconfident. Even when his hands were wrapped up with big, mitten-like bandages, and hardly anyone came to see him. How could he be so overconfident?

As Malfoy lied to his two visitors about not knowing who sent the poisonous letter, Hermione let out a small sigh of relief. Was he too embarrassed to say, or was he protecting her? She knew perfectly well that all Malfoy had to do was say the word and Hermione would be history. Underneath the protection of the Cloak, she furrowed her brow in thought.

Malfoy seemed to get impatient with Pansy and Blaise, and eventually the two left. Hermione sat perfectly still as Malfoy shook his platinum blonde hair out of his face and gently laid his head back on his pillow. She noticed the full tray of food at his bedside, completely uneaten. How could he manage to eat with his hands like that? For a moment, she began to pity him; his silver eyes looking around helplessly, searching for something, anything. Then she remembered why she was there.

The feeling of glory washed over her once again. She closed her eyes and imagined that night again, but this time Malfoy was in the water and she was hiding behind the shadowed tree. In her mind’s eye, she watched as his tall, lean form emerged from the water. He raised his arms up, slicking his wet hair back.

“I’m watching you.”

Suddenly, Draco sat up on his elbows and started looking around.

“Who said that? Who’s there?”

Hermione realised with horror that she’d said that last bit aloud. There was no going back. She decided to say it again.

“I’m watching you.”

Draco carefully propped himself up on his elbows and leaned back against his pillow so that he was sitting up. He’d heard a feminine voice just now, speaking to him. He could’ve sworn it said, “I’m watching you”. His eyes darted around the room, but silence settled again. He realized he was beginning to sweat in his light gray t-shirt, and instinctively reached over for his wand. He grabbed at it clumsily with his bandaged hand, causing it to fall to the floor with a clatter. He groaned in frustration.

Suddenly, before his eyes, Hermione Granger appeared out of thin air. She had an odd-coloured cloak in her hands, which she tossed on the bed behind her. Draco looked up at her in shock as she slowly approached his bedside. The usually shy, bookish girl was now staring at him with intense brown eyes, an eyebrow arched menacingly. Her chestnut brown hair fell in waves down her shoulders. He noticed she was wearing only a t-shirt and jeans, but he couldn’t tear away from her eyes.

“I’m watching you,” she repeated in a stern voice, drawing her wand. Malfoy started to protest but was too late.

“Diffindo!” At Hermione’s word, Malfoy’s light gray shirt was ripped apart by an unseen force, leaving his chest completely bare. Draco noticed she was looking him up and down.

“Are we even now?” Draco said shakily, sitting up straighter against his pillow.

“Not really, no,” Hermione said coolly. “You saw me in my knickers.”

Draco furrowed his brow, his eyes like ice.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

Hermione let her arm drop a little, her wand pointing at the crotch of Malfoy’s jeans.

“I’ve been quite daring already this term,” Hermione whispered, her voice shaking. “After everything that’s gone on, who knows what I’m capable of?”

Beads of sweat started to form on Draco’s temple. He tried to control his breathing, and realised Hermione was still glancing at his bare chest.

“Ever wonder why you’re still watching?” he quoted back to her. Her jaw dropped as she remembered the letter she’d written to him. Blushing madly, she lowered her wand. Draco leaned forward, his shredded t-shirt falling off him completely.

“Maybe you like what you see.”

As she stood there dumbfounded, Draco reached quickly and knocked the wand from her hand. He tried to grab her wrist to prevent her from retrieving it, but his bandaged hands were useless. In one quick movement, he threw an arm around her stomach and pulled her forcefully into his lap.

With a quick struggle, Hermione found herself pinned to him, her back against his bare chest. She held her breath, trying to ignore the warmth emanating from his skin.

“I may not have my wand,” Hermione said breathlessly, “but in this position, I can elbow you in any one of several inconvenient places.”

She sat quietly, not daring to move. Her breathing was ragged. She felt Draco’s face on her left shoulder, his breath on her left ear.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his breath tickling her neck. Suddenly she tore out of his grip and stumbled forward, grabbing her wand off the ground. Once again, she stood at the foot of his bed, wand pointed at him. Draco stared up at her, looking almost as shocked as she felt. Without a word, Hermione snatched up the Cloak and ran out of the Hospital Wing, allowing the door to slam behind her.

Draco sighed as he reached over to the bed next to him, grabbed a pillow, and put it over his lap. He leaned back in his bed with a groan.

What just happened? He thought to himself. He finally fell asleep a few minutes later, embracing dreams of her without a struggle.