As it turned out, she didn't need Harry's help to smuggle Draco into the Gryffindor common room. She just had to convince him not to tell any other Slytherins what the password was, especially not Theo, who, as it turned out, had been the one who talked Draco into setting Quirrel's turban on fire. He agreed easily enough, and she let him and Neville into the Tower.

"What do you mean, you don't know the password? Neville, you're actually in Gryffindor. How do you not know the password?"

"You already know I don't have a good memory. Can you stop rubbing it in?"

"And I was having such fun." Draco smirked, looking around the room. It was stone, better lit than the dungeon room- it helped that the fires burning in the brazier and fireplace were all red instead of the flickering, eerie green used in the dungeons. The chairs were red velvet and didn't look nearly as lush as the black leather he was used to. The windows looked out into the night sky, while the dungeons peered into the constant motion of the green depths beneath the lake. He preferred the green- the height actually made him feel a little nauseous.

"Okay, why is he here again? Studying? Which you can't do in the library because...?"

"It's closed. Something about a prank- it wasn't Theo, so it must have been the ones you lot talk about."

"Fred and George Weasley?" Hermione tilted her head, dropping some books onto a vacant table and gesturing for Draco to sit. "It probably was. Those two are trouble."

"At least they're fun."

"Neville, didn't you need help with something?"

"Transfiguration. I got an extension on the last essay but McGonagall wants it by Monday, and I don't know if I can write it."

"The Gamp's Law essay?"

"Wasn't that due in April?"

"Yes. Be nice, Draco. What don't you understand, Neville?"

"The only thing I can remember is the food."

"First law? Okay, so the second law states that...".

✦

They were still sitting there when the common room was almost empty, Hermione looking over the essay Neville had finished thanks to their meddling. She was still sitting with Draco, who was dozing in his chair. He jerked awake as she zipped her pencil-case shut. "'Tis it time?"

"Did you just say 'tis'?"

"Hermione."

She nodded to the staircase he had supposed led to the boys dormitories. Turning his head, he identified two figures standing beneath the arch. Potter and the Weasel, side by side.

"Ah. That's a yes, then."

The couple got to their feet, standing side by side like soldiers on the same side of a battlefield. Each of them were waiting for an attack from Ron: Hermione would leap to Draco's defence, and he would leap to hers. To both of their surprise, he offered no threats.

"I don't care right now. Even if you are a- never mind. I'm helping Harry stop Snape and that's it. I don't have to make nice with either of you, and that's my only reason for agreeing to this. Harry needs someone he can trust."

"Didn't think you'd think that one through, Weasel. Not bad."

Ron grimaced. "Thanks, Malfoy. I think."

"We should go. Filch will start his rounds soon and I'd rather not get caught doing what we're about to do."

✦

Except for a chance almost-encounter with Mrs Norris, the caretakers cat, and with the castle poltergeist. Ron wanted to kick the cat, and Draco was all for it. More rational minds won out when Harry pointed out that she'd make a run for Filch

"Peeves," said Harry, "the Bloody Baron has his own reasons for being invisible."

After the poltergeist zoomed away, Ron complimented Harry's quick thinking. Hermione tensed beside Draco as the Slytherin hissed his own opinion; "That's not what the Baron sounds like, Potter."

"I didn't hear you saying anything, Malfoy. Sorry if my thinking wasn't quick enough, but everyone knows he only listens to your creepy house ghost."

"What's with the chains, anyway? Did he get locked up for something?"

"If you must know, Weasel, the rumours say that he wears the chains to remind everyone of how dangerous he really is. They say he wears them to remind everyone how he once strangled dozens men as they slept for the crime of sleeping with someone who didn't deserve them. Supposedly, he'd creep into their homes at the dead of night and strangle them with the chains, using a charm to silence their death throes as their lover, worth so much more than them, slept soundly beside him. And he'd slip away as though nothing had happened, and the partner would wake to a dead man at her side. When he was finally caught, he was flayed until he died of blood loss, his body in shock. Only he swore to continue to punish unworthy lovers, and so he returned as a ghost to do exactly that."

"Is that true?"

"No," Draco told Ron, "he's the Bloody Baron. He doesn't talk to students, that's the point of him - I've got no idea why he carries around chains, and it's rather annoying at night when we're trying to sleep. Fun making you think he had a horror story background, though."

Hermione sighed and the rest of the way to the third floor corridor, the four of them were silent. Seeing that the door was already open a crack, Harry winced. "Snape's already here. "

"As if it's going to be Snape," Draco interrupted. He stopped talking when Hermione pinched him.

"Listen, none of you have to come. I understand if you want to go back to your dorms. You especially, Malfoy."

"Don't be stupid, I already said I'm not leaving you alone with Malfoy and Hermione."

"Why don't you just call me Granger?" Hermione crossed her arms. "We all know that if you're right you'll get yourselves killed without my help."

"Fine, I suppose that makes sense. But Malfoy -"

"I am not leaving her alone with you two. You'll do something impossibly stupid and get her hurt, and I can stop that from happening."

"Can you really?" Hermione sounded sceptical, although she thought it was rather sweet. Less so when he clarified:

"What would it say about the Malfoys if something happened to her?"

"Thanks, Draco," she snapped, sarcastic. "Give me the flute, Harry, there must be a reason you have it."

"Oh, yeah. Hagrid told me and Ron that Fluffy falls to sleep if you play music to it. Start playing as soon as we go inside."

"What exactly is this 'Fluffy'?"

"Three headed dog," Ron answered instantly, not watching Draco's jaw drop. He could guess that the reaction would be something like that.

"What? Hermione, is he serious?"

Hermione didn't answer, as Harry had unlocked the door with a charm. She had to take a breath in preparation for playing the flute while the boys slipped down the trapdoor. The flute was whittled, the wood rough against her fingers. The sound she managed to get from it was not a tune and certainly wasn't a song. Fortunately Fluffy didn't seem to mind, and each of its three heads began to droop.

"Merlin," Draco breathed, eyes practically bugging out off his head. "How did you three know about this?" He was acutely aware of the size of the dog, the jaws that could bite off a grown mans leg in an instant.

He was twelve. He didn't have a grown mans leg.

He was sure he was going to die.

"Want to go first, Hermione? We should be able to open it."

She shook her head, pausing to take another breath before blowing into the flute again. One of the dogs heads stirred, eyelids fluttering. She took a step backwards, playing another distorted note and trying to convince herself that she wasn't afraid.

"Fine, I'll go."

"What's down there? Can you see anything, Ron?"

"Nothing - it's just black. I can't see a way to climb down, we're gonna have to drop."

"Alright. I'm going first. If anything happens to me, don't follow. Just find Dumbledore and warn him, alright? Tell him Voldemort is coming back, that Snape has the Stone, tell him everything."

"Right."

Draco was trying to see down the hole. He couldn't see the bottom at all, couldn't even see the walls that Ron said were there. "If this is such a big deal, why are you going so slowly?"

"We're moving Malfoy, don't worry about it. See you all in a minute. Probably. I hope."

Down he went, his messy hair disappearing out of sight. Draco, Hermione and Ron looked on as he did so, grimacing at the speed. They were hoping it would turn out to be a slide, if nothing else. There was no other silver lining they could think of. After what seemed like several long minutes, Harry finally called up the shaft, "It's fine!"

"I'm next. Hermione, don't stop playing. No matter what," Ron ordered, and then slid in after Harry. A moment passed before Ron's yelp faded out of sight. Hermione was still playing.

"We could turn around," Draco told her, "walk right out of here. They'd probably be fine. What's the worst thing that could be down there?"

Hermione raised hereyebrows and nodded towards Fluffy, continuing to play. She couldn't risk being harmed by the monstrous dog.

He sighed. "It was worth a shot. I'll go first. Go right after me, okay?"

The look she gave him spoke volumes. As if I'm going to leave you alone with the boys you refuse to get along with, her eyes seemed to say. He shook his head. "If this kills me, Hermione, you'll never hear the end of it." He slipped through the door Ron had just passed through.

Hermione continued to play for two minutes, her eyes darting between each of the three heads of Fluffy. It seemed to still be sleeping, soothed by the music. But it wasn't to last.

She stopped playing.

The effect was immediate: Fluffy awoke, first one head, then the other two. It sniffed the air, seemed almost to yawn. And then it barked at her, but too late: she had already gone for the trapdoor.

And down she slid, down, down, down into the dark...

✦

"D'you think she's going to back out and leave us here?" Ron was asking. "She's not much like a Gryffindor, after all."

"The word is 'brave', if you believe her," Draco retorted, "I think it should be 'stupid'. She'll be here - oof!"

Ron laughed as Hermione collided with Draco, landing on top of him with a shriek. "We must be miles under the school. Sorry, Draco."

"Lucky this plant is here, really," Ron agreed indirectly.

"Plant? Draco, let go of my ankle and I'll get off you."

"I'm not holding your ankle."

"The plant we've landed on. Harry reckons it's here to break the fall."

Hermione looked up at him, then shot to her feet, struggling against the grip on her ankle. "Lucky! Look at you all, you're practically cocooned!"

"What?"

As soon as she was free, she dove for the wall right behind Draco, where the plant couldn't quite reach. Every instinct screamed for her to stop and go back, to pry it off of Draco, who she had so irresponsibly dragged into this mess. Only that was illogical, wasn't it? It would trap her before she could do anything to help.

Harry and Ron were trapped worse than Draco, who leant forward and tried to tear it away from his legs with his nails. Judging by his wince and gasping, this wasn't working: if anything, it was tightening, tightening until it forced his legs to lose all feeling, tightening until they would be nothing but dead weight.

"Stop moving!" she ordered, seeing Harry and Ron in the same predicament. The difference was that their wrists were caught, bound tight just like their legs. "I know what this is," she realised, still yelling, "it's Devil's Snare."

"I'm so glad we know what it's called, that's a great help," snarled Ron, but Hermione's eyes were on Draco, who had stopped struggling the second she said to. He knew how clever she was, after all, how quick of mind: she would know what to do, how to save them. She had to.

"Shut up, Weasel, she needs to think."

"Well, hurry up, I can't breathe!"

"What was the rhyme during the scavenger hunt? Something about deadly fun and - and - oh -"

"Sun, Hermione, sun rhymes with fun."

"Would you hurry up!"

"Oh, of course, the bluebell flames! Caeruleus inflamari."

Blue flames ignited the tips of the vines of Devil's Snare. They danced up the length, scalding Draco's skin, and for a moment he was sure his pale skin would be burned before they fell away. But fall away they did, and Draco scrambled back up against the wall, where Hermione grabbed his forearm and held him against the wall, as though her weak writers grip was strong enough to win in a fight against the creeping weed. "Thanks," he managed, grimacing. "Those things are -" Apparently he couldn't think of a way to finish the sentence that voiced what he meant, but she knew. They all did.

"Oi! Still here!"

"Oh, right. Sorry." She cast the spell twice more, spreading the flames between Harry and Ron. The Gryffindors were free within seconds.

"Good thing Malfoy remembers everything you've ever done."

"Too bad he didn't remember sooner," Ron snapped, pulling a face at them. "And too bad she almost left us there!"

"I wouldn't have."

"That's true. I wouldn't let her."

"What?"

"I'm betting there's only one way out of here, and I'm betting we need Potter to find it."

Ron actually seemed to relax in response to this statement. He was, Draco decided, the sort of person who had to be able to categorise absolutely everything: an enemy was an enemy and nothing else, a teacher's pet was a teacher's pet, and a friend was exactly that. None of the categories could intersect and the borders certainly couldn't be blurred, or Ronald Weasley would become even more unbearable than he usually was.

Draco decided that he didn't like categories. Neatly sorted names embodied everything he had decided that he hated in that instant.

"This way," Harry told them, and led them down a stone passageway that was every bit as dank as the first cavernous room, the one covered with Devil's Snare. Water trickled down the walls, dripping constantly - for the first time since he'd come face to face with Hermione's terrible mood that morning, he felt as though he was walking a familiar path. But this place wasn't welcoming; there was no sense of home, no green light to show them the way.

And so they followed the sound of Harry Potter's footsteps as he led them further into the black, down a sloping path none of them had expected to find down there, regardless of what they might have told themselves to look out for. Their expectations varied: dragons, spectres, monsters. Hermione's grandma Jean went to church every week and came home with stories about the Devil and possession. Hermione half expected to come face to face with a fallen angel.

"Can you hear something?" Ron whispered. "Do you think it's a ghost?"

"Only the Baron carries chains, and he's always around the dungeons about now." Draco could hear it to, the rhythmic faint rustling and clinking from up ahead. "It's too gentle to be him, anyway."

"It sounds like wings," Harry murmured back. Hermione frowned.

"There's light ahead, isn't there? I can see something moving."

She was right, as per usual. At the end of the passageway was a chamber lit more brightly than anything they had seen in the rest of the castle, as though someone had trapped sunlight in the room. And Harry had been right, too, for once: birds coloured like priceless gemstones flew overhead, none of them graceful. They collided over and over, and this was the source of the chiming chinks they had heard from the passageway. Beyond it all was a door, one that looked every bit as heavy as the door to the Great Hall. "Do you think they'll attack us if we try and cross the room?"

"Probably," Harry said, and then continued on a rather typically Gryffindor strain. Draco took off his cloak and moved to put it around Hermione, ignoring the boys.

"What are you doing?" she hissed, caught off guard.

"You're shivering," was all he offered. He didn't want her to get scratched by the birds as they followed Potter across the room.

The birds paid them no mind, and they were beside the door within moments. Of course it was locked, though. "Nothing can ever be easy," Draco groaned after Hermione attempted a charm that didn't work.

"Now what?"

"The birds," Hermione looked up, peering up at them. "They're not just decoration, they can't be."

"The colouring's a bit off. I've never seen birds like this."

"What do you know about birds?"

"My mum keeps an aviary on the Manor grounds."

"Of course she does. Of course she bloody does."

"They're not birds! They're keys, winged keys - look at them carefully. But then - yes - look! Brooms! We've got to catch the key that fits the door."

Hermione groaned. "There are hundreds of them."

"Patience," Draco said, smirking in spite of everything.

"We're looking for a big, old fashioned key. I think it'll be silver, like the handle."

"Better than nothing, I suppose. I am not flying."

"There are only three, Hermione. I wasn't going to ask you to."

"Then -?"

Draco took the broom the second it was offered, leaning away from Hermione to mount it. It was an old school broom, rickety and slow and clumsy, but it was enough. He had Harry Potter on his side for once, after all, and Potter knew what he was looking for. An old key, battered, and silver and large...

"There, with bright blue wings. The feathers are all crumpled on one side." Harry, Ron and Draco approached it. "We need to herd it - Ron, from above, Malfoy, below. Don't let it past you. I'll try to catch it -"

"Try? How about a little reassurance, Potter, Quidditch hero that you are."

"Shut up, Malfoy - right - now!"

Ron dived, Malfoy shot up and though the key missed both of them, it didn't seem to care that the two collided with an ungodly crunch, though Hermione's cry from below them suggested that she did. A second crunch came from Harry's direction as he pinned the key against the cold, damp brick.

The door opened the second the key turned in the lock, perfectly functional despite the damage it has sustained. It flew past Ron and Draco on their way to the ground, arguing heatedly regarding exactly which of them was to blame for their collision. Hermione went to Draco's side, demanding he let her see - after all, she'd read all about breaks and bruises and could identify them in an instant, she was sure.

Harry opened the door to nothing, releasing the key to resume its flight. It disappeared into the masses of keys above them, and only once he had stepped through into the next room did any of them pay any mind to the task at hand.

Flooded with light, the chessboard was clear of everything except pieces. Chess pieces. They towered over all of them, first-years as they were. They looked as though they would make seventh year students seem small. The white pieces directly opposite them were faceless. Hermione pulled the cloak tighter around her, grimacing. "Creepy."