A/N: Sorry for the longer wait on this one, I have officially finished high school as of today, so it's been a bit busy! I hope you enjoy, and thank you for reading and reviewing and being so kind.

Chapter Fifteen - Bad Omens

In the very back of the Hogwarts, tucked into the smallest corner, one could find a desk and chair shoved unceremoniously into the nook, both piled high with books, parchment, quills, ink bottles, and more books. At first glance, it appeared to be void of life - the chair seated a roll of parchment that was so long it trailed onto the floor, displaying miniscule writing crammed together very closely to fit the maximum amount of words. It was only when one looked in the proper angle that Hermione Granger could be spotted behind a bookcase, sitting on the floor, with a weighty looking textbook propped up on her knees. Her hair seemed rather to explode in its frizziness more than usual, and her school uniform looked as though it could do with a good ironing.

"No, no, that's not it-" Hermione said to herself under her breath, scratching out yet another line on the parchment angrily with her quill. "What was it again?" Her hand shot towards a letter lying on an opened envelope on the ground next to her. Write an essay explaining the progress wizards have made towards capturing the pure essence of time. Her other hand dropped its quill and flipped the textbook in her lap open to the next chapter, which displayed a diagram of a wizard turning a Time-Turner. She sighed, looking down at what she had written. She had used a Time-Turner, this should be simple. Wait a moment - hadn't she seen something like bottle time? Flashing suddenly in her mind was the image of a Death Eater whose head slipped into a bell jar and warped it into a baby's, in the Department of Mysteries her fifth year. Was she allowed to write about that, or was it confidential?

A loud rap on the bookcase next to her startled her from her thoughts. "Library's closed now," said Madam Pince sharply, though over the years of constantly seeing Hermione absorbed in books, her tone was slightly less snappish towards her than other students. Looking towards the watch on her wrist, Hermione jumped up. Curfew was in minutes, she would get detention if she wasn't back to the common room in time.

Her week back at Hogwarts had been anything but leisurely, though she didn't have any classes. Her expedition to Switzerland and the turn of events had thrown her off course from her classes at Beauxbatons, and in a desperate attempt not to fall behind any further, Hermione had been sending and receiving owls left and right from various professors to receive assignments and turn others in. She had caught up in just about every class (and informed Madame Maxime and Madame Ruys that she would, in fact, be dropping Music in exchange for Wizarding Literature), except the extremely challenging Metaphysics course. She had a distinct feeling that as this course edged on the side of theory and philosophy rather than data and evidence, Luna Lovegood might excel in it far smoother. Still, she was determined to succeed. It was just as well that she covered so much ground in makeup work - tomorrow was Saturday morning, and she would heading back to Beauxbatons.

Cramming everything she could into her bag, Hermione scooped the rest into her arms and broke into a run out of the library and up to the seventh floor. After flying up six flights of stairs, she found herself gasping for breath, and only felt well enough to continue toward the Fat Lady's portrait when Mrs. Norris, the caretaker's cat, had slunk around the corner and cast her a disdainful look.

Despite the grandfather clock in the common room ringing curfew at ten o'clock, the place was abuzz with the chatter of Gryffindors as they played Wizard's Chess, Gobstones, and Exploding Snap, or sat in arm chairs scribbling homework assignments at the last minute. Hermione quickly spotted Harry, Ron, Ginny and Neville the to the side of the room, laughing as Ginny did an uncannily accurate impersonation of Professor Snape. Hermione took a seat next to Harry, who greeted her with a grin.

"Finish your work yet, Hermione?" he asked happily.

"No," she sighed, resigned. "Metaphysics is a bit more founded than Divination, you know, but I can't help but feel similarities in their general content."

"Right," agreed Harry, who was really not paying attention.

"It's weird though," chimed in Ginny, taking a break from impersonation. "You'll be back to Beauxbatons with Malfoy by tomorrow morning."

Hermione nodded solemnly. "Not only that, but with Luna Lovegood in tow." The strange Ravenclaw had certainly not let Hermione out of her promise to show her around Beauxbatons and had even managed to get her word on assisting in lookout for a Demiguise. As for Draco Malfoy, it had been established a day ago that he had returned to Beauxbatons after a rather unwelcome reception from his fellow Slytherins. She had sent an owl with a brief letter to see how he was doing, but never received a reply. Of course, she didn't particularly think it a good idea to disclose to Ron or Harry that she was sending out owls to check in on their collective arch-nemesis.

"I suppose I better head up to bed," said Hermione, yawning as her textbook on Metaphysics lay forgotten in her bag. She had just finished a game of Wizard's Chess against Ron and was sorely defeated, and she was anxious for tomorrow to arrive to see how Draco was holding up. If I only knew if he was alright, Hermione thought anxiously, then I would stop thinking about him. However, as soon as Hermione lay her head down on her pillow that night, a wave of exhaustion hit her and the thought of Draco Malfoy was swallowed by her dreams.

"Father is a bit skeptical of the accuracy of Floo powder," said Luna lightly as her glassy gaze fell onto the jar of what looked like ash. "I think he might've had a bad experience with it - you know, he's currently working on extracting bone meal from already deceased thestrals as an alternative means of transportation-"

At this point, Hermione wisely chose to stop listening, scooping up a generous portion of the fine powder in her hand and tossing it into the fire. "Luna, it's our only way to Beauxbatons so you'll just have to go."

"Of course, it's worth it to see a Demiguise," said Luna happily, stepping into the flames. One dreamy call for Beauxbatons later, and the strange girl had vanished. Hermione sighed, turning to Harry and Ron who were very desperately trying to contain their laughter.

"I reckon Hermione will come back to Hogwarts after an hour with Luna," said Ron, finally releasing a snicker.

"That, or I'll send her back with thestral bone meal," groaned Hermione. Moments later, she was flying through space engulfed in flames herself. When she tumbled a little less than gracefully out the fireplace in her and Draco's common room, she was met with a very peculiar sight. Draco Malfoy had seemingly just sprung from his seat on the sofa, leaving behind a rather large leather bound book behind. Hermione and Luna's eyes followed it, but before Hermione could make out the curly red title-

"Incendio!" Draco had lit the book on fire, wand extended shakily and face white as snow. Luna raised an eyebrow in intrigue, however, Hermione -

"Are you burning a book?" she hissed angrily, lunging forward with her wand. "Aguamenti!" But it was too late, the flames had subsided to reveal the book was already incinerated to ashes and bits of blackened parchment. Draco let out a heavy sigh of relief, the corners of his mouth twitching in poorly concealed glee. Hermione gaped.

"If that was a library book-" Hermione started, rounding on him. He began to back up, hands raised in defense, though a smirk plastered on his face.

"Relax, Granger, it wasn't from the library," he said.

Hermione was neither convinced nor relieved. "And if it was my book, so help me Merlin, I will jinx you all the way back to Hogwarts."

If anything, Draco appeared even more amused. "Ah, well, you might have too many books as it is-"

"Look at it," said Luna softly, as Hermione raised her wand at Draco in fury. Draco, despite being in danger of being jinxed back to Scotland, cast a panicked look at where the ashes of the once-book lay. Curiosity gripped Hermione now, and casting a final scowl towards Draco, Hermione took place next to Luna, who was kneeling beside the sofa, watching the ashes with heightened interest. Sure enough, the ashes were beginning to levitate, circling each other until it formed something of a scaled down tornado. The burnt bits of parchment lightened until they could make out the tiny black inky words printed on them. The book was reconstructing itself. Draco looked on in horror. The pages had all seemed to be reconstructed, now the cover was reforming itself, wrapping around the pages, and -

"Accio book!" yelled Draco hastily, and it zoomed past Luna's head in such proximity that her hair rustled. Little flecks of ash followed closely behind. Draco had shoved the book behind his back, cast an icy glare at the two girls, and stalked off to his room. The door slammed shut forcibly and Hermione furrowed her brows - what was Draco up to now? Surely he had learned his lesson last time.

"He's very strange, isn't he?" said Luna happily, as if nothing out of the ordinary had just occurred. Normally, Hermione would've thought it very ironic to hear Luna Lovegood calling another student strange, but she couldn't deny something odd was going on with Draco.

"Let's go walk out to the grounds, you can see where you'll want to look for Demiguise," sighed Hermione, choosing to temporarily focus on another activity while the scene of Draco burning the book simmered in her mind a while longer.

If the book had been a sentient being, it might've cowered in fear under the scowl Draco Malfoy was currently giving it. He had slammed onto his bedside table. Why the hell had Madame Maxime bewitched it to regenerate? It was a book about Muggles for crying out loud, not Merlin's own personal writings. Perhaps she suspected him to attempt to destroy it. Even so, who would care? The mattress of his bed groaned as he dropped onto it with an agitated sigh.

How the bloody hell did I end up reading that thing at the exact moment Loony Lovegood and Granger show up? thought Draco angrily, cursing himself for his stupidity. He truly hadn't meant to read it at all in the first place - he had all but ignored it sitting on the coffee table for a week now. The dark wood-beamed ceiling loomed overhead as Draco lay on his bed staring up at it. He could see the book out of the corner of his eye. He ignored it.

"Stupid Wigworthy," Draco cursed under his breath. Light from the magically burning candle next to his bed flickered off the cold stone walls. Draco rolled onto his stomach to look at it. It had been burning all day, yet the wick had never shortened and though a pool of melted wax circled it, it never grew more than an inch wide across. He had never felt the need to question why the candle never melted or the wick never burned, he had never really even considered that magic was keeping it preserved.

And then, this morning when he lit it with a flick of his wand, he had the thought - it must've been annoying for Granger to keep buying new candles when she was under the impression that she was a Muggle. And that had got him thinking more about the inconveniences of Muggle life. How was their food preserved? Where did their water come from? And so he had opened Wigworthy's stupid book about Muggles. He had barely managed to read the title of the first chapter, "Electricity and its Function in the British Muggle Dwelling", when Lovegood came hurtling out of nowhere.

His gaze drifted down from the glowing blaze of the candle fire and rested on the previously-incinerated book. His questions were still very much unanswered, and it might not be so bad to be a step ahead of whatever horror Madame Maxime was planning for him that had to do with Muggles. The books was soon on his lap, his eyes scanning the words with a growing intrigue and his pale fingers flickering through the pages as he gained momentum. By the end of the first chapter, Draco felt very irritated that Muggles could figure out electricity and he couldn't even follow a basic explanation.

"I think the trees to the east of the chateau were more to a Demiguise's preference, don't you?" Luna asked Hermione happily, as they trudged in the part of the forest that was all the way west of the chateau. They had already been trekking about for an hour, and Hermione had twigs in her hair and burs caught on her clothes as they were in the thick of the forest. She was absolutely miserable, though doing her best not to show it. She didn't know what irritated her most: Luna's overly positive attitude on accomplishing absolutely nothing, or the fact that she was now suggesting another hour trek in the completely opposite direction. Not to mention, it was November now, and the temperature was becoming more biting. She pulled her sweater around her and gritted her teeth.

"Fine," she said after a moment, desperately trying to procure an excuse to go back inside. "Although we might do well with a bit of lunch before hand."

"It'll be quick," Luna assured her, ignoring Hermione's plea for food and adjusting her Spectrespecs. "Do you think Madame Maxime would allow us to camp out in the eastern grove for the night? Demiguise can be even more elusive in the daytime, our chances might increase under nightfall."

"No," said Hermione tersely, wondering what exactly she had said that led the strange girl to believe she was interested in seeing a Demiguise as well. Of course, she would love to see one - there was just the problem they didn't exist in the continent. Maybe Luna Lovegood would be better off finding a Japanese student and tagging along at Mahoutokoro, the wizarding school in Japan, where Demiguise actually lived.

"I wonder if Madame Maxime has seen a Demiguise," chirped Luna, skipping through the brushes while her wand spun on her hand like a compass to lead them back out of the woods.

"I doubt it," snapped Hermione as she torn a spiky plant from her skirt with a wince. "Unless she's gone east."

"They're migratory creatures," said Luna matter-of-factly, as though this settled it.

"Right," said Hermione dully.

"Alright, Gustav's been taken up the mountain a ways to hunt." A burst of fiery red hair emerged from the trees to the left of the girls, and Charlie Weasley was grinning happily.

"Gustav?" Luna asked with intrigue.

"Beauxbatons' very own dragon," answered Charlie proudly. "Hermione told me you'd be trekking the forests, so we thought it best to get Gustav out of the way. Although, I have to say I didn't quite expect Hermione to be joining this little expedition."

Hermione just shrugged, so as not to completely betray her distemper.

"Yes, we're heading east now," Luna informed him.

"Ah," said Charlie, smiling. "Don't mind if I join you for awhile? Could do with a bit of a walk."

"Please," said Hermione quickly, glad of company that wasn't solely Luna.

"Would you like a pair of Spectrespecs, Charlie?" Luna asked kindly, extending a hand clasped lightly about the strange pair of glasses fabled to spot the infamous Wrackspurts. Charlie grinned wide.

"Absolutely," he said with enthusiasm, immediately pushing them onto his nose. Through the tinted pink lens, Hermione just barely caught the wink he sent her. Even she couldn't resist a smile seeing Charlie Weasley in such ridiculous eyewear.

"I asked Hermione, but I don't think she believes they work," stated Luna, staring dolefully at Hermione.

"What!" Charlie cried. "Come on Hermione, you should know better than that! Come on, put a pair on now." His grin was only growing wider. He certainly was related to Fred and George. Luna, with her newly found ally, dug enthusiastically through her bag until she extracted another pair of Spectrespecs.

"No, really, it's alright, I just don't fancy seeing Wrackspurts at the moment," pleaded Hermione.

"Nonsense - you'll have to put them on for the sake of this entire expedition!" Charlie insisted, heading towards her with the glasses. Hermione quickly stumbled backwards into some brambles.

"Ouch!"

"Watch out for Nargles!" Luna cried.

Charlie, however, promptly pushed the Spectrespecs onto her face. "There! Now we can continue." Hermione cast him a glare that she doubt he received through the spiraled lenses. The trek back to the eastern grove had begun, and Luna and Charlie were quickly swept up in a discussion about dragons. Hermione walked a ways behind, listening to bits and pieces of the conversation and smiling lightly as she appreciated Charlie's patience with Luna that she lacked. Her mood had slightly increased since his arrival, though her feet and legs still ached and the cuts from barbed plants stung at her skin. More than once did she find herself tripping on rocks and roots that she would have ordinarily seen without the distorted vision of the Spectrespecs, and she was glad to see it wasn't just her having difficulties, either. Charlie had just stubbed his toe on a rock and swore. Luna, however, seemed to float through the trees as if they weren't really there.

"So, Hermione," said Charlie once all of Luna's strange questions about Gustav had been thoroughly sorted half an hour later. "How are you holding up at Beauxbatons?"

"Alright, I suppose," she said, biting her lip tentatively. "I haven't actually gotten to go to very many of my classes, and that was what I was most eager for."

"Ah, well, Madame Maxime has something higher planned for you, whether you like it or not," said Charlie, shaking his head with a smile. "The woman knows how to get what she wants and not step on any toes doing it."

"I wish I could join you sometime on an assignment," chimed in Luna. "It would feel rather like Dumbledore's Army again."

"I doubt I'll have another assignment any time soon. The last one didn't go so well," said Hermione, both wishing it would have gone smoother for Madame Maxime's sake, and that maybe she could have a nice long stretch to catch up on classes before winter holiday.

"And how are things going with the Malfoy boy?" Charlie asked with a raised eyebrow. Luna turned curiously to Hermione as well.

"He's not completely awful to me anymore," said Hermione after a brief reflection. "Although he still gets under my skin, and there's something he tried to hide from me and Luna today."

"Yes, Wigworthy!" Luna said excitedly. Hermione froze.

"What about Wigworthy?" Hermione knew that name from when she had taken Muggle Studies in her third year - hadn't he wrote the textbook?

"That was the name on the book he burned," said Luna, nodding. "I saw it before he summoned it to him."

"Who's Wigworthy?" Charlie asked, looking bewildered.

"He writes books about how Muggles live - although he might have other books, I'm not sure," answered Hermione promptly. What was Draco Malfoy doing reading about Muggles? This, of all things, seemed the most far-fetched. He had been raised to believe Muggles were lower than the lowest wizards and that they jeopardized the sanctity of the wizarding world. Surely he didn't just spring a curiosity about them from nowhere. And hadn't the book reconstructed itself? What in the name of Merlin was happening? Even if he had warmed up to the idea of Muggle-borns (and Hermione was still not entirely sure he had, just because he had stopped calling her a Mudblood), Muggles were another entire sphere.

"Let me get this right - a Malfoy is reading about Muggle lifestyle?" Charlie asked in disbelief.

"No, it can't be right," said Hermione, not believing either. "Wigworthy could have books on other subjects and - Luna, are you sure of what you saw?"

"Yes, I'm sure," said Luna dreamily. "I don't think it's so strange Draco is reading about Muggles," she added. Hermione and Charlie exchanged looks that only solidified that they thought otherwise.

"Old habits die hard," said Hermione solemnly. "He's been civil to me and he's even saved my life, but prejudice doesn't just flip off like a switch."

"What's a switch?" Luna and Charlie both asked, and Hermione let out a sigh. Wizards.

By the end of the day, Hermione hadn't caught sight of Draco anywhere, though she had a distinct feeling he was hidden behind his bedroom door, sulking. She could almost feel his scowl through the heavy oak. More than once, the question of how he was going to the bathroom entered her mind, but she waved this thought away, thinking perhaps it was better not to know such information. Currently, Hermione was tucked away in a chair, her nose nearly pressed to a book, though the words were not processing in her brain at the moment. Luna Lovegood, to her absolute horror, had met Gabrielle Delacour earlier on in the day, and the French girl was absolutely delighted at the idea of camping out in the eastern grove, though more as a social event than an expedition for a Demiguise. So the two of them, despite Hermione's begging, had sought permission from the Headmistress. Now a small group of students were meeting out in the lawns to head into the woods and set up tents. Hermione couldn't get past the shock that Madame Maxime trusted a group of unsupervised teenagers to be left to their own devices. She had half a mind to join, if only to enforce school rules, but upon further reflection, Luna's strangeness and constant reference to the Demiguise and Wrackspurts and Nargles would be enough to kill any blossoming teenage rebellion. And, if anything, it was lucky for her that she no longer had to share a bedroom with Luna Lovegood.

Hermione Granger, however, did not have the time to stay up all night looking for creatures that existed halfway across the globe and keeping teenagers under control. Her metaphysics book was looking more and more menacing the longer she took to complete her homework, and even now panic was starting to creep up on her as she realized she didn't remember anything from the last page she had just read. Focus, she told herself sternly, rubbing any tiredness from her eyes and pressing her face once more to the pages of the book. She was about two sentences in when she heard a door creaking open softly.

"Damn, I thought you were out," said a voice coolly. He stood in his doorway, looking unsure on whether to step out of it. Hermione's eyes flitted up to meet him and she barely held in a gasp to see a very hassled looking Draco. He had discarded his Hogwarts school vest and tie, leaving nothing but the stark white button-up shirt that was undone messily at the top, untucked from his trousers, which were looking worlds away from their usually primly ironed state. His feet were bare against the cold stone ground, and his hair wasn't carefully smoothed into place, rather like he had just awoken and ran quick fingers through it. For the first time as she had ever seen him, Draco Malfoy looked as ordinary of a teenage boy as Harry or Ron did, not caught up in looking the part of an aristocrat's son. She had to admit, she was thrown off.

"Oh - well, I had work to do, so I couldn't go on Luna's camping trip," said Hermione, realizing that she was staring and turning her gaze back to her book. She debated for a moment whether she ought to bring up the book he had previously tried to incinerated, but after a moment of biting at her bottom lip, she decided against it. It was just as well - she looked up again to see Draco had left his spot in the door frame and was heading straight to her room. "What are you doing?"

He raised a pale eyebrow. "Going to the bathroom?"

"Oh - right." She had forgotten about that situation. "Speaking of, did you ever try to get that fixed?"

A scowl crossed his face. "Yes. More than once."
"And?"

"You mean what did Madame Maxime say, once she finished laughing her head off about it?" His voice was bitter. "She said the placement of the Ambassador's Chambers made it impossible to carve out another room. I'm calling bullshit on that, though. I think she's amused by our pain."

"Maybe I'll bring it up with her…" said Hermione, uncertain that Madame Maxime would really find the situation funny. Perhaps Draco hadn't really asked? It wouldn't be so strange of him, to force her to let him use her bedroom as a hallway to the bathroom. Would it?

"By all means," said Draco invitingly, before stalking off into her room. Hermione returned to her homework. Then she raised her head - Draco's bedroom door was wide open. She could spot the corner of his bed and the flickering flame of a candle. She twisted in her seat to take a hurried glance at her own bedroom door, which he had also left wide open. He was in the bathroom, and if it was than just to urinate, she might have enough time to dart into his room and settle the matter of the book. Heat rose to her face as she realized she was contemplating what situation his bowels were currently in - how disgusting. Though now was a good of an opportunity as she was going to get to search the boy's room. She pushed her book from her lap and stood, eyes never leaving her own bedroom door, in case he reappeared suddenly. She kicked off her shoes and her feet, padding with thick woolen socks, were silent against the stone floor.

His bedroom was significantly tidier than it had been in previous encounters. The room was a twin copy of her own, though the blankets draped across his bed were made of a black, satin-like material, whereas her own were a dense, brown fur of a pelt. Her eyes quickly scanned the room, finding the bed to hold nothing but its coverings and the nightstand stark and empty. Inevitably, her eyes drifted over to a closed trunk - now she was very well and truly about to invade his privacy. It was times like this she truly felt she was a Gryffindor, rather than a Ravenclaw. Her insatiable curiosity overtook her cautionary wisdom, and her fingers quickly worked at the latches. She had just swung the lid open when-

"What the hell are you doing?" His voice was clear as ice, and just as biting in coldness. She might have been petrified by the sheer anger she could hear, suppressed behind his iciness, but she was rather more petrified by the book she had glimpsed in the trunk, and the note lying atop it.

"Why," she began slowly, "does Madame Maxime want you to study Muggle living?"

This was a very bad omen indeed, she thought furiously. A bad omen for both of them.