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Chapter Text

Adrien

There was nothing Adrien enjoyed more at three o’clock in the morning than running around Paris in a tight black catsuit, chasing a child who’d had a nightmare. The early morning air was crisp, the smog thick, and he got a front-row seat to the Eiffel Tower light show—all while being heckled by drunk tourists on bachelor weekends.

Actually, scratch that.

There were a lot of things Adrien would prefer to be doing. A lot! Like...oh, he didn’t know, maybe sleeping!

He’d stayed up far too late the previous evening, trying to keep Marinette company as she finished designing her end of term dress. A dress which he was all too eager to see. Marinette in anything was a sight for sore eyes, but Marinette in formal wear? That was like the universe had decided to bless everyone with an instant upgrade to perfection.

And she would be on his arm, as his slice of heaven. Man, he was a lucky guy...now if only he could sleep.

‘I’m done. Just take my earrings out and throw them at him. I’m too tired to care.’ Ladybug stood behind him, her forehead crashing into his back as she let out a little whimper. As much as he hated the early morning run-arounds, his partner hated them a hell of a lot more.

He chuckled. ‘Come on, Bugaboo. We’re almost there, just a little longer.’

‘You said that an hour ago.’ She groaned again, slamming her head into his back repeatedly. He wasn’t sure if she was trying to keep herself awake, or punish him for what he’d just said.

Chat Noir couldn’t help but wonder about Ladybug. She hated being woken up early for an akuma attack—but she was just as bad at night. After nearly three years of working together, he still couldn’t figure out what kind of person she was.

Meanwhile, he was one hundred percent a morning one. Which meant right now, he was in the fiery pits of hell. So much for his flawless complexion and his sacred ten hours of uninterrupted sleep. This new butterfly holder was ruthless.

He squatted, holding his arms out. Ladybug jumped up onto his back and rested her head on his shoulder, her legs wrapping tightly around his waist and her arms wrapping around his neck like a baby koala.

‘Do you want me to call in reinforcements?’ he asked, moving across the rooftops in search of their most recent foe. Ladybug huffed, the absence of light making it increasingly difficult for her to see anything too far in the distance—instead, relying on his night vision.

‘No,’ Ladybug sighed in his ear. ‘Last time we had a night akuma, I went to find a couple of them and, well, let’s just say I ended up with more than I anticipated.’

Chat Noir couldn’t help the snort. ‘You saw one of them naked, didn’t you?’

‘I did. And their girlfriend.’

He started to laugh, jumping over to the next rooftop and pacing around—her body still tightly locked around his. ‘I don’t feel like the story ends there, Bug.’

‘That’s because it doesn’t. Look over there.’ She pointed in front of them and they moved again, heading towards the edge of the rooftop. A purple lightning bolt shot upwards into the air, covering Paris in a bright twilight, before plummeting them back into darkness.

‘So what happened?’ he asked, extending his baton and sliding them down to ground level.

‘Well, his girlfriend was so excited to see ‘Ladybug’, she stopped what she was doing, and ran to give me a hug.’

He placed her down on the ground before spinning to face her. That was awful! ‘Ugh!’

‘Tell me about it! I had a full shower in my suit when I got home.’

Yep! He totally understood that one.

‘So, what’s the plan, M’Lady?’

She looked around. Another lightning bolt firing into the sky and lighting Paris up like it was Bastille’s Day. ‘I could try another lucky charm. After all, you know what they say…seven times a charm.’

They both huffed out an exasperated laugh—no humour, full exhaustion.

‘Here it goes.’ Ladybug launched her yo-yo into the air, with as much enthusiasm as she’d check herself in at the dentist.

Her yo-yo rotated quickly above their heads, soundless and spectacular. Little sparks came from it as it moved faster and faster, finally opening up and releasing something into the air above their heads.

The sparks stopped. The yo-yo collapsed back down into Ladybug’s hand as Chat Noir held out his own to cradle the falling object, pulling it tightly into his chest.

Slowly, he held it out in front of them. Confusion clouded his judgement, as he stared at the pack of cards sitting happily in his hands. ‘Huh? I never saw you as a gambling type.’

‘I’m not,’ she said, snatching them.

He studied her. She was an aggressive little thing when she was tired. ‘What’s the deal, then?’

‘Chat! It’s too early to pun!’ Her jaw was so tight he was surprised he couldn’t hear the fierce sound of her molars grinding.

He smiled, taking the cards from her again before she did something stupid like launch them from the top of the building. ‘It’s either that…or I fold.’

She groaned so loudly she gave their position away. In the matter of seconds, they were face to face with a rather angry child dressed as a magician. Apparently, pulling a rabbit out of a hat wasn’t enough for the youth these days.

Ladybug snatched the cards back and opened the pack. ‘Any ideas?’ she asked, flinging card after card at the child.

‘Not a Scooby-Doo!’ Chat Noir replied, flipping himself up onto a lamppost above the child in an attempt to distract him.

Cards were flying everywhere, Chat catching as many as he could before flinging them back to Ladybug to try again. This really wasn’t working, and every throw from his partner was getting weaker. She was exhausted!

Spinning down the pole, Chat began to make his way over to Ladybug to regroup. When Maestrogic, the akuma, lined up a perfect shot, one heading straight for his partner.

She was too tired and too exhausted to see it coming.

Without waiting another moment, Chat Noir pounded forward on all fours and dived, wrapping her in his arms and rotating them around.

But he was too late.

Just as they connected, so did the purple blast, sending them into the darkness and into the void of nothingness.

*

Chapter Text

Draco

Draco Malfoy sat at the table, tapping his pen erratically. He had places to be and yet, his tutor never seemed to understand that. It was embarrassing enough having one, let alone her always standing him up.

Out of the twelve sessions they’d had together already, she’d cancelled on him three times and showed up late twice. He blamed Weasley. He seemed to think he controlled her, like she was some sort of prize. But the only prize Hermonie Granger would be worthy of is the boobie prize.

He’d made himself laugh. He’d have to remember to tell his mates that one later. Goyle, Blaise and Theo would have a right laugh at that later…if he ever got out of this bloody room.

Unfortunately for him, he hadn’t had any other choice but to take Granger up as a tutor, much to both of their dislikes. But this year, his grades were vital, and she was the smartest kid in the school. If there was anyone who could get him out of this rotten place, then it was her.

After the Great War, it seemed the Wizarding Education system didn’t see their ‘success’ as a worthy final grade. Instead, each and every one of them had to retake their final year, unless they found an apprenticeship…everyone, that was, except for perfect Potter. He had a free pass out of here, yet still hung around like the smell of cat piss.

So, here Draco was, trying to make it through the seventh and final year—again. And at eighteen, it felt ridiculous. All the smug eleven-year-olds coming in and just pissing him off.

He looked around the Room of Requirement. Their agreed meeting point kept them hidden. Their little tête-à-tête, a secret from the nosey buggers roaming the halls of Hogwarts.

Originally they’d been meeting in the library, hidden at the back and away from judgemental eyes. The library had been rebuilt since the battle. Workers remodeled and reshaped the once-grand ceilings to tell the story of all that happened. The display of Nagini coming to its demise with Godric Gryffindor’s sword, thanks to Longbottom’s luck, a constant mockery of his inability to choose the winning side.

All the more reason to move their study sessions here.

The Room of Requirement had shifted into a charming blend of a cosy study and an unpleasant romantic retreat—at least, in Draco’s opinion. A large, glowing fire crackled in a grand stone fireplace, casting flickering golden light across the room. The plush armchairs near it looked inviting, with soft cushions and warm blankets draped over them. Rich, dark wood paneling lined the walls, giving the space a refined, intimate feel, while a thick, intricately woven rug muffled footsteps and added to the snug atmosphere.

A tall, well-stocked bookcase stretched along one wall, its shelves brimming with everything from dusty old tomes to sleek, leather-bound volumes. A charming little study table for two sat near the fire, its polished surface illuminated by a softly glowing lamp. The chairs, annoyingly close together, seemed designed for hushed conversations rather than serious academic work.

To one side, a quaint kitchenette had appeared, complete with a small stove, a delicate tea set, and a selection of snacks—because, apparently, the Room thought studying should include warm drinks and pastries. The scent of something sweet lingered in the air, as if someone had just baked biscuits.

The entire scene exuded warmth and intimacy, perfect for quiet study sessions or whispered discussions over steaming mugs of tea. Draco, however, eyed the setting with something between disgust and irritation, crossing his arms as he took in the flickering candlelight and the utterly unnecessary air of romantic cosiness. ‘Oh, for Merlin’s sake,’ he muttered. ‘Does it have to look like a love nest?’

He started to study the selection of books in the bookcase: volumes of crap by ‘Lockhart the fake’, a book about some witch who’d done something for other women, and a factious story about the notorious ‘Chamber of Secrets’.

He glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. It was way past midnight—their agreed meeting time.

Standing up, ready to give up and go, the creak of the door, followed by clicking of heels, had him sitting back down.

Here she came, the girl of his nightmares.

A pile of books slammed on the table opposite him. The cup he’d been using rattling harshly against the wood.

‘Hello to you too, Granger. Nice of you to finally join me.’ He looked up into the dark eyes of the girl he despised more than Potter himself. This specific goody two shoes was a pain in his backside, but right now she was the only one who was going to help him through this year.

‘Listen, I’m only here to make sure I have the extra credits for my N.E.W.Ts. I’m not here because I want to be.’

‘Ouch!’ He relaxed back in his chair, crossing an ankle over his knee and swinging an arm onto the back of the one next to him. ‘A bit defensive already? I haven’t even unleashed my charm on you yet.’

She rolled her eyes, collapsing in the chair opposite. ‘I’m not in the mood.’

He watched as she aggressively opened the book, turning the pages with enough force to rip them out. Lifting a hand over his mouth, he tried to hide the smirk. There was something enticing when she’d lost her cool. Like a firework just before it exploded—brilliant, unpredictable, and slightly dangerous. She huffed, her brows furrowed in frustration as she glared at the text, as if sheer determination could force the answers to appear.

Draco crossed his arms, watching her with an infuriating sort of amusement. ‘You do realise the book didn’t personally offend you, right?’ he drawled, tilting his head.

Slamming her hands on the table, she leaned forward her eyes burning into him and all he wanted to do was poke the fire a little more and see if he could make her burst into flames.

‘What?’

He shrugged, his demeanor remaining cool and calm. ‘Nothing. Just wondering who pissed on your parade.’

‘You’re a dick! Do you know that?’

A deep chuckle left him as he shuffled forward in his seat. ‘Well in that case, you know where to come if Weasel isn’t doing his job properly.’

She huffed and mentioned something that sounded an awful lot like wanker, as she continued to flick through the pages. Hermione was never accommodating towards him, but this was worse. She was full of hostility today.

Draco studied her for a moment, wondering what he could do to make her snap. She was so tightly wound the release would be cataclysmic. Then again, if she got too pissed off then maybe she’d bugger off and leave him alone—tell the professor he’d passed the tutoring and they’d never have to do this again.

Slowly, as to not draw her attention, he reached into his pocket and wrapped his fingers around his wand. If he could just…

She slammed the book closed on the table. ‘Don’t. Even. Dare!’

‘Don’t know what you’re on about.’ He would have added a Mudblood there, but unfortunately such language was now an instant expulsion from Hogwarts. Apparently, McGonagall as a headmaster was a lot stricter than Dumbledore, a lot more tetchy too.

‘I’m not in the mood, Malfoy. Let's just get this done so I can go.’

‘Someone’s got their knickers in a twist.’

Hermione shot him a warning glare, causing him to hold back his laughter and instead feign surrender. ‘Following your lead, M’Lady.’

‘Were you born an asshole or has it just developed with age?’

He chuckled. ‘I’m like fine wine.’

‘What? Overpriced, overhyped, and guaranteed to leave everyone with a headache?’

His eyebrows rose as he leaned back in his seat. She was quick today, something must have really pissed her off.

‘Still annoyed Potter gets a free pass, or is Weasel struggling to get it up?’ Draco moved forward, his elbows resting on the table and he spoke in a low, deep whisper. ‘Talk in the Dungeon is that it’s only the size of a peanut anyway.’

The stinging sensation took over before the sound of a hearty slap echoed through the Room. He licked his lower lip, catching the tang of iron on his tongue. How delightful!

‘Why are you such a prick?’

Gently, he wiped the back of his hand against the crack on his lip. ‘I was born this way, baby.’

She scoffed, moving the book from the top of the pile and pulling the one out from underneath it. She began rooting through it again, still no indication of what exactly she was looking for.

‘What are we looking at today?’ he said, watching her hands turn page after page. He almost felt sorry for the binding the way she was tugging at it.

‘Time travel,’ she muttered, continuing to keep her focus on her book. ‘I’m going to show you how to travel back a couple of minutes with a time turner.’ She pulled the object out from under her shirt and began to turn it around.

‘So, we’re going to go back in time and what? Make you likable?’

She began muttering under her breath, maybe an incantation or something. But he could tell he was getting under her skin. Her neck was dotted with little pink patches, disappearing down into her shirt and probably down her chest. Her fingers turned the hourglass a little more fiercely, her voice growing deeper. Huskier.

‘Or better yet,’ he continued, ‘put you in Slytherin so you don’t end up being one of Potter’s minions.’

Her voice hitched as she sucked in a breath, but she continued reading the incantation, the turner twisting in between her fingers.

‘Maybe, if you’d been in Slytherin, you would have met a real man.’

A purple mist came from the necklace, a hurricane of glitter and sparks, growing higher and higher. With a push, Draco stood, moving back from the table watching the wild tornado take over their area of the Room, the fire slowly distinguishing and taking with it the light.

‘Granger, what have you done?’

Her eyes were full of fear as she looked up from the page.

‘You made me mis-chant the spell. I don’t know what this is.’

A mist of purple took over them, the Room disappearing through the thickness and turning everything black.

Chapter Text

Hermione

The first thing Hermione noticed was that she was hanging upside down on something which remarkably resembled the Eiffel Tower. The next thing she noticed was how quickly the floor was moving towards her. Actually, on second glance, she was moving towards the floor.

Screaming, she closed her eyes and braced herself for impact. But it didn’t come. Instead, she landed on something soft and strong. Like really strong. And it smelled really good. What kind of bizarre dream was this?

‘Are you okay?’

Her eyes shot open. She knew that voice. Malfoy!

But it wasn’t Draco Malfoy she was staring at, it was a man in tight black leather dressed as a cat. She screamed again. This time pitching it at an even higher decibel.

Pushing out of the arms of the giant cat, Hermione stumbled backwards, tapping around her body for her wand, only to come up empty-handed. She continued her search, it had to be somewhere, when her hand met something on her hip. The impact caused whatever it was to fall to the floor and open, a bright light shining out of it and almost blinding her.

Hand trembling, she crouched down to retrieve it. Her eyes remained on the cat as she bent lower and lower. She stretched out and emitted a rather startled gasp. Her hand and arm were coated in red and black. Almost like a…

‘Ladybug, thank goodness I found you.’ A girl around her age came barrelling towards her at speed. Hair as bright as Ginny’s and a worried expression on her face.

Hermione looked around, slightly confused about who she was actually talking to. ‘Me?’ she said, pointing to herself.

‘Yes. You.’ The girl frowned at her, slight curiosity tinting her voice.

A hand slammed down on her shoulder, and the voice she knew, unfortunately all too well, assaulted her ears. ‘Well, it’s not going to be me is it, Cockroach?’

‘Cockroach?’

‘Oh, merde!’ The girl said, placing a hand dramatically to her head. ‘Not again, not again, not again!’ The girl began to pace backwards and forwards and Hermione could only open and close her mouth. What the hell was she meant to do now?

‘Come with me!’

Hermione was yanked from where she stood, the girl marching her away as she looked back at Malfoy in complete and utter shock. Never in her life had she wanted to stay with him more.

Rounding the corner, her new fiery friend glanced back around the wall before marching her deeper into the alleyway.

‘Okay. Detransform!’

‘I, er, what?’

‘Come on, girl. Drop the costume. I need to check if it's really you. I saw the hit. And I know people have been sent everywhere. How do I know it’s you and not you-know-who from another reality?’

Hermione let out a high-pitched laugh, one which was completely foreign to herself and, by the look of it, this girl opposite her too. ‘Another reality?’

‘Well, Chat Noir did call you cockroach. That was Shadybug’s nickname.’

Shadybug? Chat Noir? Interesting, yet incredibly uncreative name for someone dressed as a black cat.

‘I’ve called her worse.’ The deep tones of the black cat sent shivers down her spine. Whatever the incantation was that brought them here would need reversing asap so she could get back. She hadn’t exactly left at the best of times, and if the bug and the cat were now stuck at Hogwarts, they were about to walk in on a very awkward time in her life.

‘Are you, or are you not, Ladybug and Chat Noir?’ the girl asked, the phone she was holding suddenly placed back in her pocket.

‘I, er, yes. Of course we are! Who else would we be?’ Hermione tried to sound confident, her usual self, when everything inside was nothing less than sheer panic.

The girl didn’t seem to buy it, but she did seem to accept it. ‘Whatever you say, girl.’

‘Now, if you don’t mind me,’ Malfoy cut in. ‘I just need to take the bug for a quick debrief.’

He wrapped his arm around her waist and, pressing his baton, launched them into the air without another word.

‘How the hell did you know how to do that?’ The ease that he was moving made her a little unnerved.

‘Lucky guess,’ he chuckled, doing nothing to help her anxiety.

Hermione looked around her as they stretched up into the sky. The nightlights of Paris were gorgeous, something she thought would be out of her reach only months ago as they were fighting for their lives. To see the shimmer of the lights on the Seine made her feel warm and tranquil – even in her arch nemesis arms. She’d take this moment, then she would give him a verbal thrashing for what the hell was going on. After all, she had no doubt it was his fault.

As soon as his feet touched a rooftop, she slammed her fists into his ridiculously strong, and well built, chest. ‘Put. Me. Down.’

He dropped her, causing her to crumple into a pile on the rooftop. Very ungraceful for someone who was supposed to be a superhero.

‘Better?’

She could hear the humour in his voice and wanted nothing more than to wander over and punch it off. A right hook square in the jaw.

Rolling around, she moved herself to stand up, brushing her hands over herself and looking for somewhere they could hide to talk. She didn’t trust this area. Maybe it was the year she’d spent battling an evil psychopath whilst on the run, but cover had become a sanctuary.

Finally, her eyes set on a concealed area, hidden in shadows—perfect. Grabbing Malfoy’s arm, Hermione yanked him over towards the hidden cove and out of the line of sight of any passers.

The bleeping on her earrings intensified and before she knew it, her costume faded into pink shorts, and a white top. She stood staring at Malfoy, as his black leather morphed into a rather boring black tee and grey sweatpants. Obvious sleepwear. What time was it anyway?

Two creatures swirled in front of them, a small cat and a tiny red ladybug. They glanced at each other before turning their focus on herself and Malfoy. Their eyes were huge! Something similar to a pixie, or a Pygmy Puff.

‘Well, you’re not Adrien,’ the black kwami said, his green eyes judging them both‌. They kept squinting, and widening as he tilted his head from one side to another. ‘And you’re definitely not Marinette.’

‘No shit, Sherlock,’ Malfoy said. She glared at him. That was no way to speak to whatever these creatures were. That was just plain rude–but then again, this was Malfoy.

‘I’m Hermione, and this is Mal— Draco. Who and what are you?’ He might not have any respect but she did, and for the first time in what felt like forever she’d willingly used his first name.

The two creatures looked at each other as though holding a silent conversation. Finally, the red one took the lead, flying close. ‘I’m Tikki, the kwami of creation, and this is Plagg, the kwami of destruction. We’re part of the Miracle Box and holders of the greatest power in the world.’

‘Oh please,’ Malfoy grunted, folding his arms and gazing over the rooftops.

‘Ignore him. He’s a pompous jackass. We thought he’d grow out of it during puberty, but it seems this one’s for life.’

The black kwami, Plagg, snorted and flew around in a circle. ‘I like her! She’s got spunk!’

‘She’s stuck up.’

‘He’s an asshole.’

‘Know it all!’

‘Twat.’

‘Woah!’ Plagg flew in between them, cutting off the insults with wide green eyes. ‘I don’t know what this is, but you won’t get anywhere if you’re against each other. You’ve got to work together.’

Hermione glanced at Malfoy before bursting out laughing. ‘Yeah, right, okay.’ She wiped under her eyes as the red kwami, Tikki, joined her friend. ‘Work together. That’s hilarious.’

‘I must say, you two have taken this surprisingly well,’ Tikki said, her lips pouting in an adorably cute way. Hermione had always had such a soft spot for creatures.

‘Taken what?’ Hermione asked, her laughter changing to curiosity.

‘Us. Usually people run a mile when we appear.’

Hermione frowned. ‘Why? You’re cute.’

‘They’re weird.’

She fired a warning look at Malfoy, who quickly put his hands up in surrender.

Tikki smiled at Hermione. ‘Our holders usually scream. You seem surprisingly calm.’

‘That tends to be what happens when you’ve fought off giants, trolls, merpeople and the greatest villain of all time.’

Malfoy scoffed. ‘Dramatic much?’

Ignoring the annoying words of the guy she seemed stuck with, she continued. ‘We’re not ignorant of magic.’

Once again, the kwamis partook in a silent conversation. Their eyes flickering backwards and forwards from her to Draco. They might not be ignorant to magic, but these two were weird.

‘So, here’s the deal–’ Plagg started, Malfoy cutting him off before he could finish.

‘No,’ Malfoy demanded, his piercing glare locked in Plagg’s. ‘Here’s the deal! You’re going to find a way to get us home.’

‘It doesn’t work like that, Kid. You’re stuck here until we can figure out the akuma.’

‘Akuma?’ Hermione asked, glancing at Malfoy to see if he understood. He shrugged. For the first time ever, they were on the same page.

The red bug finally moved, bringing herself closer to them. ‘The thing that was shooting people.’

‘With these things?’ Malfoy held up a couple of cards and fanned them out. They looked like a normal pack of playing cards. Nothing more interesting than a blue swirl background.

‘What are they?’ Hermione held out her hand, Malfoy snatching them back.

‘No way! Finders keepers!’

She sighed, her hand lifting to rub her head. She felt tired, yet it was barely midnight, well at least she thought it was near midnight, but this body felt like it hadn’t slept in decades.

‘What do we need to know?’ Hermione asked, ignoring the smug victory grin Malfoy had plastered all over his ferret face. He began to shuffle the cards, obviously doing it out of annoyance more than anything else.

‘You use us to transform into your superhero identity. You’re Ladybug and you’re Chat Noir,’ the little ladybug said.

‘Why did the girl call me Shadybug?’ Hermione asked, studying the kwami with complete curiosity.

‘There may have been a couple of incidents with holders from other universes.’

‘Incidents?’ Malfoy snorted. ‘Sounds more than an incident to me.’

‘Mistakes happen,’ Plagg responded, Malfoy not having any of it.

‘Sure they do.’ He pursed his lips and nodded judgmentally. She was so tempted to slap the smug look off his face. He had no right to judge, not after what he did.

‘Are we in their bodies? Only, I can clearly see that’s Draco, and…’ she looked down, ‘I’m pretty certain this is my body.’

Tikki addressed Hermione as she replied. ‘It must be part of the magic.’

‘And you? What can you see?’ Hermione asked.

Tikki shook her head. ‘You’re shimmering between Marinette and I’m guessing yourself.’

‘Marinette?’

‘My holder. She’s the guardian of the Miraculous. I’m guessing everyone will see you as Marinette and the holder of the black cat, but you will remain yourselves.’

‘And we can transform into these heroes. Ladybug and Chat Noir?’

Malfoy snorted. ‘Let me guess, I rub my ring three times and you appear like the genie from a lamp. Tell me, can I force you to get back in there too?’

Plagg flew in front of him. ‘Listen up, bozo! My holder is the best one I’ve had, and I’ve been around for thousands of years. If you want to survive this without losing a very precious part of your anatomy, you need to start thinking about what you’re saying. Got it?’

Malfoy held his hands, before pretending to close a zip across his mouth and hold his lips together.

‘How do we use you?’ Hermione asked. Malfoy grunted beside her, her eyes throwing daggers in his direction before turning back to the kwami. ‘If we’re going to be here for a while, and there’s another akuma—’

‘Bless you,’ Malfoy interrupted. There was a smugness in his voice that made her want to push him from the rooftop.

‘If there’s another akuma, we’re going to need to help out.’

‘You might! Have you seen my outfit? I look like I’m wearing a reject from a kinky Ann Summers collection. There’s no way I’m running around in that.’

‘You have no choice,’ Hermione hissed. ‘You’re whoever this Aiden person is for the foreseeable future so get your head in the game.’

‘Adrien,’ Plagg corrected, Hermione giving him an apologetic smile.

Malfoy crossed his arms like the spoiled brat he was, an exhale leaving his nose and creating a little squeak which, if not so infuriating, would be quite amusing.

‘He couldn’t do it,’ the cat kwami said. ‘He’s pathetic. You, though…I think you could be an okay replacement for pigtails.’

‘Hey!’ Malfoy protested, but this was too good to pass over.

‘Oh, I totally agree. You see, Malfoy over here walks away from danger. However, I’m quite fond of a battle or two.’

‘That’s a low blow, Granger!’

‘It’s the truth though, isn’t it! Where were you when it was all going down, Malfoy? You weren’t there fighting with us, were you?’

They stood in a silent standoff. She loved it when she silenced him, though this wasn’t with a fist, she was still happy enough to shut him up. He was nothing more than a worthless coward when it came down to it. All mouth and no balls.

‘What do we need to do?’ Malfoy hissed in between his clenched teeth, his eyes never leaving hers.

‘I don’t know if I want to tell you now.’ Plagg turned his back on Malfoy and this time she couldn’t help but laugh.

She shook her head. ‘Oh dear! Looks like I’ll be saving the day again.’

‘Like you could do it without your band of merry men!’

She ground her teeth together so tightly she swore all of Paris could hear. Yes, she had worked a lot with her ‘band of merry men’, but what Malfoy didn’t know was that she was the brains of most of the plans. Harry provided the execution and Ron…well, she didn’t even want to think about Ron at the moment. Ron was so far out of her mind, he may as well be in Antarctica.

The idea of being in Paris, in a different life for a while suddenly became quite appealing, even if the switch could be detrimental to her grades. She needed time for herself, to find herself and what she wanted away from Harry and Ron. They had become a trio, not working without the other. She needed to prove to herself she could do it alone. That she was Hermione as much as one of the three.

‘Is Marinette smart?’ she asked Tikki abruptly. Though it shouldn’t really matter, they weren’t exactly going to fail someone who had helped mastermind the plan to defeat the Dark Lord. But it would grow far too much suspicion if her top marks dropped down below average, and Harry and Ron would definitely want to know what was wrong.

‘She is…when she’s awake.’

Hermione suddenly felt a little queasy. This was not going to go to plan.

‘How about you?’ Plagg said to Malfoy. ‘Ready to keep Adrien’s top grades.’

Top grades!

The laughter exploded out of her. Her stomach hurt from the sudden intense reaction to Plagg. Top marks! Malfoy could barely write his own name correctly!

‘I do what I need to!’

‘Which is nothing!’ Hermione retorted.

His eyes narrowed at her. ‘I guess we better go. It looks like the middle of the night and I’m guessing we have school tomorrow.’

She tutted. ‘Great way to avoid the subject.’

‘I’m not avoiding, I’m stating facts.’ He clicked his fingers and stared at Plagg, the kwami looking unimpressed by his most recent summons.

‘Did you just click me?’

‘Well, I am your master now.’

‘Master!’

Tikki flew over to Plagg, placing a hand on his shoulder and whispering in his ear loud enough for all to hear. ‘You know where we are if you need us.’

‘He’ll be fine! It’s not like I’m going to transform and go on a rampage, Miss Goody-Two shoes will probably wrap me in her yo-yo and swing me from the top of the tower.’

‘It wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened,’ Plagg said, Tikki covering his mouth.

‘Who are these people?’ Malfoy glanced at her. Hermione shrugged, she was liking Marinette more and more by the minute.

Tikki swooped around, hovering near Marinette with a soft smile on her face. ‘If you both transform and head over to Notre Dame, we can guide you from there.’

Nodding, Malfoy and Hermione repeated the transformation phrase from their kwamis and watched as their bodies were once again coated in a super suit.

‘I guess, I’ll see you tomorrow then?’ Hermione said, taking the yo-yo from her hip and passing it between her hands. The yo-yo was a lot more weighty than expected. The object solid, string taut.

‘Whatever,’ Malfoy said, unclipping the staff from his lower back and extending it, taking himself up into the skyline of Paris and away from her, without so much as a goodbye.

She watched him as he left in the direction of the cathedral, a dread settling in her stomach. If this was how it was going to be for the next few days, how was she ever going to survive?

*

Chapter Text

Adrien

Adrien’s eyes fluttered open, the morning light giving his eyelids a gentle pull. He blinked. Slowly waking up to something unfamiliar and…strange.

He tried to remember what had happened the night before. His call with Marinette, going to bed, waking up to the shrill sound of his alarm. He’d clambered out of bed and transformed, heading to his and Ladybug’s normal meeting place ready to fight. He wasn’t quite fully awake, but it was nothing compared to how his partner was. She looked like an extra from the Walking dead.

They’d used Lucky Charm after Lucky Charm to no avail. The akuma had been a lot more with it than they were which gave the villain an unfair advantage. One which it seemed to use willingly.

Finally, Ladybug’s Lucky Charm had delivered a pack of cards, something she thought would be the one to defeat the akuma, but they’d gotten hit and…

He didn’t know anything after that. At least he didn’t think he knew anything after that. He looked down at the sheets. They were green and silver, with a shield in the middle. A crest, of sorts, featuring a snake. Had Sass had anything to do with this? His hands shot out in front of him, his eyes searching his wrists for Luka’s bracelet. Nothing.

Continuing his search of the area, Adrien looked at the curtains surrounding his four poster bed. Green curtains had shut him away from the outside world, with only a slither of light creeping through a gap wide enough to wake him. The room was warm; the bed was soft, and Adrien wasn’t sure if this was just some kind of weird dream or reality.

Pinching his arm, he expected to wake up, back in his own dull and lifeless room. His phone flashing on the charger and Plagg sleeping beside him…Plagg. The side of his bed was empty. No cheese gremlin in sight.

The throb from the pinch a constant reminder that this was real.

Adrien swung his legs out of bed, letting out a small laugh as his green plaid trousers rolled down his legs and settled around his feet. Everything in this room was green. Had he been banished to the land of OZ?

The floor was cold. A dark almost black wood laid out in uneven lines. Furniture similar to his was scattered about the room and a hoodie sat on the chair beside his bed.

Swiping it up, he placed it over his head, noticing the same snake crest in the centre of his chest matching the one that was on his bed.

Running a hand through his hair, he stood. A chill travelling up his leg from the icy floor on his bare feet. He gazed around the room. Five beds sat around a winding staircase leading up to somewhere. The beds were empty, the curtains pulled back and beds all made. He was either alone in this place, or everyone else was already up.

There was only one possible answer to his current situation—he had been hit by the akuma. Over the past four years, he’d been killed multiple times, sent to many random places, but it was all short lived, the Miraculous Ladybug pulling him back to Paris in a matter of seconds. The displacement was nothing more than a blink of an eye. So why wasn’t he going back yet?

Moving towards the staircase, Adrien caught the reflection of himself in the mirror. Well, what he thought was him. The face in the mirror wasn’t his. His hair was lighter, his face paler, and a permanent scowl was etched into his brow. He turned his head to the side, the vision of this unknown body turning to his own before morphing back.

What the—

‘Malfoy! You finally awake?’ A shout sounded from the top of the staircase, quickly followed by the unmistakable sounds of feet colliding heavily with metal.

‘I, er, yeah! Yeah, I’m awake.’

Malfoy? What kind of name was that?

Feet suddenly appeared in the reflection, two black shoes coming down followed by black slacks and a grey jumper, edged in green and finished with a green and silver tie. Then the face appeared, and yikes! This dude looked like he’d rip one of Adrien’s arms off and use it as a toothpick.

‘It’s about bloody time! Everyone’s waiting for you.’

‘Waiting for me?’ Adrien asked, unsure what was happening.

The guy rolled his eyes and jumped over the banister, landing on the ground beside him. ‘What did Granger do to you this time? I still can’t believe she’s tutoring you.’ The guy laughed. ‘It's nothing more than punishment for everything that's happened.’

‘Yeah,’ Adrien laughed along with what he expected was a joke.

Everything that’s happened? What exactly was that?

‘Don’t worry, mate, once we’ve finished this year, we’ll never have to see her again.’

Adrien glanced at his ‘friend’ slightly unsure what to do. He smiled, the response obviously the right one as the guy moved over to the bed next to where he’d woken up.

‘You going to get dressed? Breakfast will be over soon, and I need some carbs if I’m going to make it through Care of Magical Creatures. Blaise told me Hagrid’s got Nifflers.’

Nifflers?

Even though Adrien had no idea what this guy was on about, his stomach greeted the sound of breakfast with a rather menacing grumble. The guy laughed.

‘Come on, Malfoy!’ He grabbed a pile of clothes and threw them at Adrien. He caught them with ease, turning back to his bed and heading over.

‘Oi, Goyle, is he ready yet? I’m starving and the first years are pissing me off.’ The sound of feet slammed against the metal as another boy appeared on the staircase.

The guy, Goyle, pointed over to him. ‘He’s just getting dressed, Theo. It seems Granger worked him hard last night.’

Theo was thin, his build weedy. He was the complete contrast to Goyle. Goyle looked like he was a wrestler for the WWE and Theo looked like the rope around the ring that was coated in gold. This one could be a model.

Theo made his way over to Goyle, one hand raised as they high fived each other. ‘I’m sure Pansy will have things to say about that.’

‘Maybe she’ll want to join in next time.’ The two began to laugh, Adrien concentrating on getting himself changed. Where the hell was he? And who the hell is Malfoy?

‘Ready?’ Adrien finally said, glancing between the two guys and wondering who the leader was. Where Theo looked indifferent, Goyle looked as though he wouldn’t breathe without being told.

‘Are we going?’ Adrien asked again, pointing up the staircase.

Theo’s nose scrunched, the lines fighting against his perfect face. ‘Listen mate, I don’t know what the hell you did last night, but at least brush your teeth.’

He pointed over to the other side of the room, where a door sat partially open. That must be the bathroom. Thank god!

‘Yeah, sure.’ Scurrying to the bathroom, he stepped inside and closed the door. Taking a deep breath, he calmed his nerves. He had nothing to worry about. Ladybug would defeat the akuma, throw her lucky charm and he’d be back in Paris. Back with Marinette. An ache in his chest grew. What if he was stuck here forever? He’d never see Marinette again. How could he live without her?

But what if Ladybug wasn’t in Paris. What if she was here with him? With a different face? How would he know?

Taking note of the shower and deciding he’d complete that mission later, he found his supplies in the bathroom.

Draco Malfoy.

Well, if he'd never heard a villain's name before, he certainly had now! That, plus his friends and his snake crest, Adrien was intrigued to find out what kind of life this guy had.

Especially, when it came to the one they called Granger?

Heading out of the bathroom and back to Goyle and Theo, he followed them up the staircase and into what looked like his father’s old study, complete with couches and a burning fireplace. It was cold. Dark. Nothing about it was welcoming, instead it was the perfect habitat for a cold blooded creature—a snake.

The room had a dark, gothic elegance, with stone walls and a low ceiling supported by ornate columns. The lighting was dim, provided by greenish lamps and the occasional flickering fire in the grand, elaborately carved fireplace.

The windows, enchanted to look into the lake, gave the room a mysterious feel as shadows of underwater creatures glided past: fish, plants, Merpeople. The decor included luxurious furniture like dark leather armchairs, silver and green accents, and tapestries bearing the serpent emblem.

The room was cool and tranquil, with a slightly foreboding edge.

As Adrien began to walk through the room, students younger than him parted like the Red Sea, allowing him space to pass with ease. Young boys eyed him with curiosity, young girls giggled amongst themselves. Each person giving him added attention he didn’t want.

A feeling of unease took over as he noticed not all people seemed in awe of him, some just seemed scared. Theo and Goyle stayed by his side, both acting like bodyguards as Adrien strutted forward. He just hoped he was going the right way.

Stopping them from moving any further, a small boy with the widest eyes he’d ever seen stepped forward, a book the thickness of a wheel of cheddar in his arms.

‘Y-you forgot this in the library, y-yesterday.’ The boy was stuttering and Adrien wasn’t entirely sure if it was speech impediment or from fear. He quickly glanced at Theo. The look on his face was one of complete annoyance. Quickly, he glanced at Goyle. The bigger guy had one fist on the other and was rotating it.

‘Thanks,’ Adrien said, taking the book and praying the kid got out of the way before he was forcefully moved.

A gasp sounded around them, the book taken from his hands as his arm was grabbed and he was marched out the room. They stepped out into a dungeon, the door slamming behind them before Goyle turned to face him.

‘What the hell was that?’

‘What?’

‘Saying thank you to the first year!’ Theo piped in. Adrien stared between the two of them, unsure whether he should say something or not.

But before Adrien could respond that it’s only courtesy to thank someone for returning your belongings, Goyle jumped in. ‘It’s Granger! Everytime you come back from one of your sessions, you're soft. And people are starting to see you’re changing.’

‘You’ve got to speak to McGonagall. You can’t keep doing this. People think you’re becoming an easy touch. Before you know it, Weasley and Potter will be walking all over you.’

As much as Adrien would have liked to respond, telling them he wasn’t actually who they thought he was, didn’t seem the solution to this problem. These guys didn’t exactly read trustworthy. They seemed like they didn’t read at all.

He hadn’t been here an hour, and yet he was quite sure he understood exactly what kind of character Draco Malfoy was, and he was certainly no Adrien Agreste. The thought of being stuck here sent a shiver down his spine. Would he need to act the part? The looks on his ‘friends’ faces told him, unfortunately, yes he would, or more questions would be asked.

Adrien shrugged and continued walking forwards. Where to? He had no idea. He prayed one of the goons would jump forward and take control.

‘Come on, Malfoy. You can’t tell me you’re actually enjoying the time with Granger? You used to say you couldn’t think of anything worse. Then all of a sudden you’re showering before seeing her, doing your hair and leaving early. What’s with that?’

Adrien stopped and turned to them, his mind racing quickly, trying to find something, anything, he could say. ‘I’m just tired. She’s cracking the whip hard…you know? Nothing more, nothing less.’

They both stared at him like he’d been speaking in a foreign language which was the precise moment he realised he was speaking English…fluent English. Not a French twang in sight.

Theo moved closer, his brows frowning as he glared at Adrien. ‘Are you two…’ He looked around, lowering his voice. ‘You know?’

No, he didn’t.

‘Er—’

Goyle gasped, a fat hand clasping over his mouth. ‘Is that why Weasley has been moping around? Are you two sleeping together?’

Adrien choked on his spit, finally catching on to what they meant. ‘No. No!’

‘The man protests too much,’ Goyle said, Theo bursting out laughing in response. They both slapped hands on his shoulders and guided him through the dark corridors and out into a grand hallway.

‘Just give us the heads up if you’re bringing her back to the dorm,’ Theo continued.

‘Yeah, we can make sure Blaise lends you his handcuffs.’ The two continued walking, taking the lead in front of him and bringing him to the centre of the hallway.

The vast, high-ceilinged chamber was made of stone, the walls adorned by torches that cast flickering, warm light across the room. The large floor space was majestic and welcoming, centuries-old traditions of the school coated over the walls.

At the center of the entrance hall was a magnificent marble staircase that swept upward to the first floor, branching off into various corridors that led to different parts of the castle. The stone floor was polished and smooth, echoing with the sound of footsteps. Massive wooden doors, bound with iron, marked the main entrance to the castle, the open doorway giving Adrien a view of the grounds.

A gaggle of girls stood together in the corner, giggling and staring at them. A couple waving their fingers at him before laughing again.

‘Which one do you like the look of?’ Theo asked, his hand remaining on Adrien’s shoulder as he leaned over him, or at least he tried. The guy was at least a couple of inches shorter than him.

‘The blonde’s eyeing you up, Mal! How about you ditch Granger for tonight and get up close and personal with her?’

Adrien turned his head away. Firstly, blondes reminded him too much of Chloé and that wasn’t something he wanted to experiment with anytime soon. And secondly, he had a girlfriend. Marinette. None of these girls were Marinette, and they never would be. His heart was locked away and only one girl had the key.

They continued to move in the direction of a pair of open doors, noise swarming out of it. This must be where breakfast was.

The hall behind the doors was long and narrow. Grand and exquisite. Four tables ran down the length of the room, full of laughing and chatting students. In the centre, full of bowls and plates towered with food, and jugs were evenly placed in the centre of the tables, each one a different colour: orange, pink, green, purple.

He stood still for a moment, taking it all in. The high ceilings, complete with clouds gently moving amongst the rafters, brought in the daylight as though there was no roof. The sweet spring day glowing with the strength of a thousand suns.

‘Pansy’s waiting for you,’ Theo said, nodding his head in the direction of a table full of green ties. It seemed everyone sat in their groups? Houses? Teams?

Adrien followed Theo down the row, his eyes scanning the area. Maybe, just maybe Ladybug would be here too. But would he realise it was her? If he was this whole other person, would Ladybug be too?

They stopped beside a girl with brown hair slicked back into a high ponytail, her face screwed up like she’d sucked a lemon. ‘Morning Malfoy, where were you last night? You never came to visit me.’

Her hand stretched up, her long fingers stroking down his arm and causing him to shiver…and not in a polite way.

‘Busy evening,’ he replied, stepping over the bench and settling onto the seat.

Pansy wrapped her hands around his arm, stretching up, her lips grazing his ear as she spoke. ‘That didn’t stop you last time.’

Adrien moved away a little and looked at her, a smile attempting to pull his lips out of the frown. He pulled his arm out of her gasp and leaned forward taking a croissant to deflect any further advances. Tearing a chunk from the pastry, he began to chew, his mind torn between listening in to the conversations around him and scanning the tables.

He swallowed the pastry down, his stomach grumbling with displeasure. This was nothing like Tom and Sabine’s. Though not unpleasant, it wasn’t home.

As a conversation progressed into conversation about defense against the dark arts and care of magical creatures something caught Adrien’s eye.

A girl with raven pigtails and a small frame. He watched her move with ease down the aisle, to a boy with jet black hair, both ending in animated conversation. She sat down with the others wearing red and gold ties, and he couldn’t tear his eyes from her. The girl opposite started a conversation, an intense one from the way her eyes narrowed.

An urge to protect washed over him and he stood up from his seat. He wanted to go over to her, to see if she was who he thought, but before he could do anything, a boy with fiery red hair walked with determination to her side, crouching down and kissing her on the cheek.

Everything inside him grew cold as the two stood and headed in the direction of the exit. He tracked them and every step she took felt like a stab to his heart.

Chapter Text

Marinette

‘What the hell, Hermione?’

Marinette woke with a start, rolling from the bed and onto the ground, taking the covers with her. She looked from her position on the floor to a girl towering over her with ginger hair and a scowl that could turn a lemon sour.

‘I, er, I—’

The girl scoffed, her head jutting backwards as she turned her head to look away. Who was this girl? And why was she in her room? At least…she thought it was her room.

She glanced around, taking in the influx of reds and golds. Each bed was a beautiful four poster. Curtains draped around the sides, crimson with golden patterns. The scarlet blanket wrapping about her like a pretzel was plush and inviting, nothing like the pink cover which lay across her own bed at home.

This wasn't home. She thought back to her last memories. Memories of the night before played like a movie in her head. She’d been up late, starting to design her gown for the end of year ball. Her alarm had signalled to her it was time to sleep, but fate had different plans for her. Instead, she’d had to go out and tackle a night akuma with Chat, and they were losing…bad! They’d tried one last Lucky Charm — a pack of cards if she remembered rightly — but it was too late. They’d been hit.

And now she was here…wherever here actually was.

‘Are you really not going to say anything?’ The girl spoke again, her whole attitude alarmingly like Alya’s.

Marinette stared at her. She had no idea what to say or to do. She looked up in an attempt to compile her thoughts. The circular walls stretched up to a high, domed ceiling. Tapestries hung in the same red and gold colours as the furnishings, each decorated with a crest featuring a lion. Each one situated in between thin, rectangular windows. The natural light filtered in, and created spotlights on the floor around her, her attention fully on the aesthetics of the room.

The girl huffed. ‘I can’t believe you’re not talking about this. You could at least apologise. He’s broken, Hermione. He doesn’t think you care anymore.’

Marinette’s head was spinning. Who was Hermione? And who had she broken? She scrambled onto her knees, crawling past the girl's legs to the mirror. Her hands trailed over her face, nothing seemed different. So why was she being called Hermione?

‘What did Malfoy do? Has he done some sort of memory charm? You break up with my brother, then go to your tutoring session. Next thing we know, you arrived back late and now you’re acting strangely.’

Turning, she noticed how her face glimmered in the reflection, a face not her own appearing in her peripheral vision. Her stomach flipped. She wasn’t just somewhere unfamiliar—she was someone else.

‘Hermione!’ The girl shouted a little louder this time. Standing up, Marinette looked at her. Her face slowly transformed from anger to concern. She sighed. ‘Come on and get changed. Harry’s waiting for us in the Great Hall. I said I’d wake you up.’

The girl made her way determinedly to a chest of drawers behind the quilt-less bed, and opened it. She removed what seemed like a uniform and threw it on the bed. Unsure what to do, Marinette scrambled over and grabbed everything, marching in the direction of an open door on the other side of the room. That must be a bathroom.

Twenty minutes later, she’d washed and changed. She’d never worn a uniform in her life, and as much as she’d like to say she wore the hell out of it, Marinette was quite certain these were not her colours. The grey of the jumper made her feel dull and conforming. Her outfit was the same as every girl that passed. The only difference being the thigh high stockings she was wearing, that she couldn’t help but think Adrien would love.

Her heart constricted as she thought of her boyfriend. What if she could never get back to him? What if she was stuck here, as Hermione, forever? Her stomach churned at the thought. This wasn’t her home, and she wasn’t even sure it was her body. She missed Adrien already, and she missed Chat Noir.

Chat Noir.

She thought back to the akuma. When the ray had been fired, it wasn’t just her it had hit. Chat Noir had been wrapped with her, trying to save her as usual. So would it be possible he was here too? Wherever here was?

The anticipation of possibly seeing her partner, had her out the door and down the spiral staircase in seconds, stumbling out into a room filled with comfy chairs and a warming fireplace.

‘Finally.’ The girl had been waiting for her. She turned and began to head towards a corridor, Marinette following behind.

They walked to a bronze frame on a wall, a fat woman sitting inside it eating fruit. Marinette stood for a moment to study it. It was something she’d never seen before and something she found oddly intriguing. The girl pushed the side. A faint click was followed by the portrait opening and revealing a dimly lit stone corridor, the air cool against Marinette’s skin.

She followed the girl as she stepped through. The scent of old parchment, melted wax, and something earthy—like damp stone—filled her nose. They started to walk, Marinette glancing over her shoulder watching the portrait close and the lady appear again—this time with a slice of cake.

‘So, are you feeling okay now?’ the girl asked, tossing her red hair over her shoulder as they walked.

Marinette had no idea where they were going.

‘I, er, yeah! Totally fine!’ she said, forcing a nervous laugh. Her voice sounded different—crisper, more confident. The words rolled off her tongue in an accent she definitely wasn’t used to. Something was very, very off.

They turned a corner, and Marinette nearly stopped in her tracks. The corridor stretched endlessly ahead, lined with enormous paintings—but they weren’t normal paintings. The figures inside them moved.

One of them, a plump woman in an extravagant purple dress, leaned forward and whispered something to the man beside her, eyes fixed on her. Another, an old wizard with a long, crooked nose, peered at her over his spectacles before shaking his head.

Marinette swallowed. The paintings were watching her.

Did they know?

Two girls, around her age, walked past. One wearing a blue and silver tie, the other, yellow and black. The edging on their sweater v neck, matching their tie.

‘Good morning, Ginny. Hermione,’ said the girl in the blue tie.

Ginny. So that was the girl's name. Ginny. Marinette studied her for a moment. Her skin was pale and flawless, with a slight scattering of freckles over her nose. She was taller by a couple of inches, but her face read younger. If Marinette would guess, she’d say about a year or two.

Ginny kept talking, completely unfazed. ‘You know Ron only worries about you. He didn’t mean for you to leave him. It’s just been so hard with what happened to Fred. He’s blaming himself for it all.’

Ron? Fred? The look on Ginny’s face was dim. Whatever had happened to Fred obviously wasn’t good, but again who was Ron and why did they argue? Why did she leave him? Was he her boyfriend?

Before she could even begin to process that terrifying thought, the hallway opened up into an enormous space, and Marinette barely bit back a gasp.

The ceiling stretched impossibly high, held up by grand stone archways and massive chandeliers dripping with candlelight. The walls were lined with tapestries, towering doors leading to places unknown. Staircases—actual staircases—shifted midair, swinging like moving bridges as students hurried up and down, completely unfazed by their impossible motion.

Her head spun. She clutched the railing as Ginny led her toward one of the staircases.

‘Come on,’ Ginny said, stepping onto the stairs just as they moved beneath her. ‘We don’t want to be late for breakfast.’

The staircase shifted again. Marinette’s breath caught in her throat. That wasn’t normal. That wasn’t scientifically possible. She took a shaky step forward, and the moment her foot touched the stone, the stairs lurched sideways.

She yelped, grabbing onto the railing for dear life.

Ginny laughed. ‘Honestly, Hermione, you act like you’ve never used the stairs before.’

Marinette forced out a weak chuckle, too terrified to correct her. Wherever she was—whoever she was—one thing was certain. She was definitely not in Paris anymore.

The staircase finally stopped, Ginny grabbing Marinette’s arm and hopping off with her. They moved through the hallway, and into a grand room. It was buzzing with excitement, and tables were piled high with food. Breakfast was quite the event.

‘Harry’s saved us some space down there.’ Ginny led Marinette down an aisle between two tables. Her eyes shot from left to right as she looked for any possible signs for her partner. If she could still see herself as herself, did that mean she would be able to see him?

Blonde hair seemed to be a popular colour. Her heart lurched forward every time she saw a set of golden locks. But none of them were him. At least she didn’t think they were.

Almost crashing into the back of Ginny, she stopped next to a boy with circular glasses and a thick mop of black hair.

‘Morning, girls.’ He stood up, wrapping an arm around Ginny’s waist and kissing her gently on the lips. The sight had the churning in her gut ramp up to eleven. Would she ever get home?

He turned to greet her. ‘How are you, Hermione? How was last night?’

Before Marinette could question what she’d done the previous night, Ginny had jumped in for her. ‘You know as well as I do, an evening with Malfoy is nothing more than torture.’

Harry chuckled. He glanced over his shoulder before turning back to them. ‘Speak of the devil and he shall arrive.’

Instead of looking at where Ginny and Harry were now staring, Marinette instead found herself looking at the scar on the boy's head. A lightning bolt. How bizarre!

‘Seriously, Hermione, what’s up with you today? You seem to have forgotten you’d broken my brother’s heart, and now you’re staring at Harry like he’s become an ogre.’

Harry gave Ginny a slight shove causing the girl to giggle, before stretching up and kissing him on the cheek. They both sat down, Harry indicating for Marinette to take the other side. It was fair to say she knew who their leader was.

‘I know you think she should be on Ron’s side, Ginny, but Draco has given us no reason to distrust him since coming back. He’s pretty much kept to himself.’

Ginny scoffed. ‘I can’t believe you’re using his name.’

‘He’s not the Dark Lord, Gin. Just, I’m with Hermione, we should be giving him a chance.’

Was Draco, Malfoy? What did she call him? If she was giving him a chance maybe she called him Draco too? Her head was pounding as she attempted to piece something—anything—together.

Laughing was heard over at another table, followed by cheers and claps. Marinette turned her head to try and see what was happening, but a blur of red stole her focus as a male with vibrant red hair kissed her on the cheek and knelt down before her.

‘Hermione.’ His voice was broken, his eyes rimmed in red and black rings underneath. This guy looked like he hadn’t slept in days. ‘Please, talk to me.’

He grasped her hands from where he knelt down, almost like a proposal. A wolf whistle sounded from somewhere down the table followed by red creeping up the guy's neck, turning his cheeks and ears a vibrant blush pink.

‘Come with me.’ Marinette stood up, knocking him over in the process and causing a new wave of laughter from all areas of the room.

‘Ron!’ Ginny gasped and the pink slowly progressed to a red bright enough to rival her super suit.

Oh, no!

Reaching down, she grabbed his hand and pulled him to stand. The feeling was unnatural and uncomfortable, his fingers slipping between hers and tightening as she led him out of the room. She’d only ever held Adrien’s hand and Chat Noir’s, both feeling a lot more intimate than this.

Reading through the lines of what she’d found out, Ron and Hermione had had an argument over someone called Malfoy—or Draco? Or Malfoy Draco? This must be Ron, and from the look on his face he wasn’t happy about his most recent change of circumstances.

As they reached the doorway exiting the hall, Marinette stopped. A sudden unease clasped at her stomach. Someone—or something—was watching her. She turned and looked behind her, glancing from table to table, her eyes lingering a little longer on the one with the green and silver. A snake tapestry hung over it, the table loud and boisterous. She glanced over it, her stomach tumbling as she looked from face to face.

‘Looking for him, aren’t you?’

Marinette’s head snapped back, taking her off balance and into Ron’s arms. He stumbled backwards, holding her tightly. Her mis-step almost took him down to the ground. Struggling to maintain footing, Marinette pushed away from him and collided with two girls behind her.

‘Watch where you’re going, Granger.’ They gave her a shove back towards Ron, this time, however, she managed to get her footing and stop before she tumbled into him again.

A hand touched her arm, causing her to jump. ‘Are you okay?’ Ron said, Marinette snatching her arm away from him.

‘Yeah.’ Slightly out of breath she moved forward towards another doorway. ‘Let’s just go and talk.’

Continuing forward, at a swift pace, she placed a hand to her head. She needed to get out of here and fast. How did they get here and how did they return home without her Lucky Charm?

‘Hermione?’ Ron called after her, her pace slowing so she could turn to him easily.

‘Yeah.’ She noticed he looked curious, and maybe a little suspicious.

He pointed to the open door on the opposite side, the clear view of a courtyard coming into focus. ‘It’s that way.’

Unable to think of a response, she did the only thing she could think of. With a curt nod, she walked past him and towards the door. His footsteps moved quickly as he caught up to her.

The morning air was crisp, fresh. Ron eventually took over and led the way out of the Great Hall, his steps purposeful, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his trousers. Marinette—Hermione, she reminded herself—trailed slightly behind, the weight of the conversation to come pressing against her chest.

She hadn’t even made it through breakfast, and here she was about to have a conversation about something she had no recollection of. But Ron wasn’t going to let it slide. She had seen it in his posture, in the way he had barely looked at her as he asked her to step outside.

They walked in silence at first, moving past the towering oak doors and onto the stone steps that led down to the courtyard. The morning bustle of the castle faded behind them, swallowed by the open air. The sky stretched wide, streaked with pale gold where the sun had begun its slow ascent.

The building was impressive. Grand and theatrical. It was nothing less than a castle. A castle full of mystery and history, and if the damaged walls were anything to go by, pain and panic.

Ron kicked at a loose pebble, the object bouncing over the courtyard. Once, twice, three times. ‘You’ve been acting weird,’ he muttered, interrupting her count.

Marinette swallowed. ‘Weird? How?’

He let out a humorless laugh. ‘Oh, I dunno. Maybe because one minute we’re not talking at all, and the next you’re acting like nothing ever happened.’ He turned to face her, brow furrowed. ‘You do remember why we weren’t talking, don’t you?’

She felt like a deer caught in headlights.

‘Of course,’ she lied.

Ron’s eyes narrowed. ‘Then why?’

Why?

That was the question, wasn’t it? Why had Hermione made whatever choices she had? Why had it led to this rift between them?

Marinette hesitated, choosing her words carefully. ‘I just… I don’t think tutoring Malfoy is as big a deal as you’re making it.’

Ron flinched, just barely, but she saw it.

She had chosen wrong.

‘You don’t think—’ His voice rose, but he cut himself off, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. ‘Blimey, Hermione, do you hear yourself?’

She bit her lip. She was good at making plans, but right now, she was coming up empty. ‘It’s just tutoring.’ She tried again, desperate to keep her footing on unstable ground.

Ron ran a hand through his hair, frustration radiating off him. ‘Right. Just tutoring. Because Malfoy’s never done anything horrible, has he? Never called you—’ He stopped, exhaling sharply. ‘Never made it his life’s bloody mission to make people like you feel like dirt under his oversized feet.’

She blinked. People like her. What was wrong with her? Well…Hermione.

‘Harry thinks that—’

His face morphed into sheer disgust. ‘Of course Harry would. He’s living his best life now, isn’t he! We’re the ones that have lost out.’

She had so many questions running through her mind. Lost? She couldn’t help but wonder what he was implying. But one thing was for sure, this argument they were having wasn't just about tutoring Malfoy—it was about everything that had come before. Everything Ron had watched happen.

And she had stepped into this world without that history, carrying a whole load of baggage.

He shook his head, looking away. ‘I thought you got it,’ he muttered, voice quieter now.

The hurt in his words stung more than the anger.

She inhaled slowly. This was about trust. About Ron feeling like Hermione had chosen to stand with someone who had spent years tearing them down. Years tormenting them. But why? She’d had that with Chloé, years of uncalled for torturing, but there was more to it than just a mean girl. It was a girl trying to find her place outside the shadows which followed her, out of her mother’s spotlight and neglect.

She searched for an answer—Hermione’s answer—but found nothing. She hadn’t got Hermione’s memories, just her body.

‘I didn’t mean to hurt you,’ she said instead, because it was the only truth she had.

He exhaled, long and slow, studying her face. For a second, she thought he might push further, might demand the explanation she couldn’t give. But then he just shook his head, stuffing his hands back into his pockets.

‘You’re different,’ he muttered. ‘I don’t know how, but you are.’

Her breath caught.

He turned away before she could respond, walking back toward the castle without another word.

And she was left standing there, the morning air cold against her skin, feeling herself slip a little further between the cracks of a life that wasn’t hers.

Where was Chat Noir?

She needed him now more than ever.

Chapter Text

Draco

Paris at night was something different, remarkable. The lights around the city glittered and glimmered, dancing around on the puddles which had collected on the ground like silver unicorn blood under the moonlight—mesmerising, yet untouchable. Paris had that same quiet magic, something rare and otherworldly, just out of reach.

He followed Plagg through the winding streets, memories of past experiences fighting through the confusion of why he was there and lingering in his mind.

A past which had been constructed for him.

A past which he had no say in.

A past which was fake.

They continued. A clenching in his gut as he remembered the last time he was here—when his life had seemed perfect. He’d been with his father, here to see the Quidditch World Cup a few years ago. They’d spent time together, not only in the Wizarding World but in the muggle one too. They’d visited the Eiffel Tower and the Louvre. They’d eaten ice cream as they walked down the Seine, and grabbed pastries early in the morning, both of them spending time together. ‘Bonding time’ his father had called it.

Draco had never felt as much pride as he did that weekend, standing with his father in the box full of important and influential wizards and witches. It was the first time he’d really understood it. Understood how demanding his father had been to those seemingly below him. He’d wanted to be his father so badly. To live up to the expectations of Lucius Malfoy and make him proud.

Draco stopped in front of Notre Dame, Plagg flying off into the distance, leaving him to study the gothic structure. The high towers looked fresh and dominant, a recreation from the recent fire, the perfect match to what they once were. The circle windows, plated in colourful glass, flickered from light coming from inside the cathedral, shimmering in reds and blues and greens.

Draco gazed up to the stone gargoyles, his eyes moving to the bell tower and the story of the deformed man who’d lived inside it. A squib who couldn’t do magic. Draco had stood in this spot once before, his father telling him the story of the faithful wizard who’d eventually killed the man that was a disgrace to pure bloods everywhere, and a monstrosity to the rest of the world.

A man who was born that way.

A man who tried to hide not to cause fear.

A man unfairly punished for something he had no control over.

A bubbling, burning in his chest. A fire ignited within, rage heating his body as his face tensed and hands tightened.

He slowed his breath counting to ten in a need for calm. Dr. Calma Wisp had worked hard with him. His secret sessions to make sense of his life, and what was left of it. He counted to ten, thinking about things that were right in his life and the next thing he needed to fix. But there were so few of one and so many of another.

‘You okay, kid?’ Plagg had returned, but instead of his usual nonchalance, he seemed concerned.

Draco opened his mouth to retort in one of his normal responses when a thought struck him. He didn’t need to pretend here. Not with this creature. He’d be going home soon, there was no one here to think he was weak. No one, except Granger. It was typical it’d been her he’d ended up stuck with.

‘Yeah, fine. Just been a few years since I’ve been in Paris.’

Plagg looped around, before flying over the bridge encouraging Draco to follow. They moved, walking silently over the Seine, before travelling down a few side streets. It was so quiet, eerie really, and if it wasn’t for the fact he could transform into a cat with kick ass superpowers he would be sorely missing the feel of his wand securely in his pocket.

They slowed as they reached a small courtyard, complete with a fountain and benches. The trees hung over the paths creating shadows like monsters on the ground. Nothing scary though, if anything it comforted him. If he squinted enough the shadows could blend and merge into one similar to the Whomping Willow, a reminiscence of home.

They made their way through to the other side. Emerging in front of a boulangerie. Draco noticed a flash of red from around a corner. Hiding behind a post, he watched as a girl ran around the front to a door at the side. Hermione. This must be where Marianne—or whatever her name was—lived.

He looked to Plagg for confirmation. The kwami nodded. Once she was inside, they set off again, passing the front and down the side street.

‘That’s your lycée,’ Plagg said, hovering at Draco’s shoulder. ‘There’s a couple more days there until the Easter holidays.’

‘Do I sleep there?’

Plagg shook his head. ‘No, you live just down here.’

After a couple more metres, they were standing in front of a building nothing short of a mansion, and not too dissimilar to his own humble abode in London. It was grey, cold and harsh. Lifeless.

‘So, Adrien’s a posh prick,’ Draco said, giving it a once over. ‘I guess he’s an asshole then.’

Plagg swung around defensively, moving so his wide green eyes were in line with Draco’s. ‘If you want to survive these next few days you need to leave Adrien alone.’

Draco snorted. ‘Tetchy little thing, aren’t you?’

Oh, man! He shouldn’t have said that. The small kwami almost set alight with rage. ‘Look you moron, my holder is the kindest, most empathic guy I know. You’d do well to have a quarter of the talent and love that kid does.’

Draco held his hands up, hoping to keep the creature at bay. ‘Calm down! I was just kidding! Shesh! You’d think I’d said I was going to ruin this guy's life.’

‘Adrien?’ The sound of his body’s name shocked him. He looked around bewildered, trying to find the origin of the voice.

‘Hello?’ he said, still completely confused where it was coming from. He frowned, his body tensing slightly, putting itself on guard.

‘Not so brave now, are you?’ Plagg scoffed. Draco continued to look around, trying to figure out where the voice was coming from, when Plagg spoke again. ‘It’s the intercom, you doofus!’

Snatching the kwami, Draco held him securely in his hand. ‘Seriously, can’t I just shove you back in this ring?’

‘Are you okay?’ the voice sounded again.

‘Yes,’ Draco replied, looking at Plagg for help. Did he know this person? Was he meant to say a password of some sort?

Plagg rolled his eyes. ‘That’s your guardian, Nathalie. Since your father died, she’s been looking after you.’

‘Oh?’ Adrien’s father was dead. Interesting. Draco made a mental note to question Plagg about that at some point. The kwami seemed to know everything about Adrien’s life, and he was sure this would be a fascinating story in itself. A rich orphan.

‘Come inside.’ The voice was sterner this time, yet Draco could tell there was an underlying care there. More like a come inside, it’s the middle of the night and I’m worried about you, than a come inside because I said so.

The gates in front of them creaked open, stopping when the opening was just enough to let him through. With another glance at Plagg, Draco entered the courtyard, the gates closing firmly behind him—trapping him in this new life.

Oh well, here goes nothing.

He moved forward, stopping in the middle of the courtyard, a fear gluing him to the spot as he fully took in the mansion. It was almost identical to his old house. A mansion with no heart. One for everyone else to judge, to begrudge their wealth, to show off. It wasn’t for security or to be a home. It was just a house.

The door clicked open, light pouring out in a beam, stretching to the tips of his feet, and there in the middle was a woman. She looked worried, wrapping her housecoat tightly around her body, standing uncomfortable, with peacock slippers on her feet. A hint of colour against her dark blue and red ensemble.

‘It’s the middle of the night and you’re in your pyjamas. Where did you go?’ Her voice was stern. Straight to the point. The warmth matching that of the house, or lack of.

Draco looked down into his shirt pocket at Plagg, hoping the little guy could give him some help or advice. He tilted his chin, trying to get him to fly out and support him with this, but the little shit slammed a palm to his face, pulling it down and making the weirdest of expressions.

Secret identity! Plagg mouthed like he was some sort of idiot.

Quickly, Draco’s mind bounced around the possibilities, especially now the whole ‘I was jumping around dressed like a cat’ was out the window.. ‘I was, er, I was worried about the akuma and Mari…’

‘Nette,’ Plagg whispered, Draco quickly coughing to cover the voice of his kwami.

‘Marinette. Sorry.’ He smiled up at the woman apologetically.

The silence was so absolute, a pin could be heard dropping. The woman stood there, scrutinising him like he’d lost his mind. Maybe he had? Maybe Hermione had taken one of those big, fat textbooks and finally snapped, walloping him around the back of the head with it and this was just a hallucination of a concussion.

‘And did you see her?’

Draco felt Plagg in his pocket shaking his little head like a maniac. ‘No, I realised it was too late and came straight home.’

They stood in silence, Draco glancing around the cold hallway of the mansion before looking at the freaky portrait on the top of the staircase. So that’s what Adrien looked like? Or at least used to? The feel of this body seemed a lot more masculine than the scrawny kid in the frame.

He could feel the woman’s eyes on him. Studying him. He knew she was suspicious, it was obvious from the head to toe she was giving him, but she seemed too polite to say anything.

‘Go to bed, Adrien.’ She ordered, ‘you have lycée tomorrow. You can check on Marinette then.’

He nodded. ‘Of course. Goodnight—’ he hesitated, unsure what to call her. She stood there, waiting for him to finish.

‘Nathalie?’ she said.

‘Yes, Nathalie.’ Faking a yawn, Draco stretched up and outwards before dropping himself into an unattractive slouch. ‘I’m just so tired. I best get to bed.’

She gave him one last look before turning and walking up the staircase. He waited until she was out of sight before releasing Plagg from his shirt.

Draco let out a deep breath. ‘Phew! Okay, let’s go.’

Plagg led the way up the staircase, Draco a couple steps behind following the trail. He glanced at the portrait one last time. Adrien’s father looked about as friendly as his own, a shiver running down his spine at the thought.

‘Come on.’ Plagg had circled back, encouraging him to continue up the staircase and the right where a large black door awaited him.

Plagg nodded. Draco stepped forward, pushing the door and heading inside, careful to close the door softly behind him. Plagg zoomed off somewhere into the darkness, before a click sounded and the room was bathed in light.

‘This is awful.’ Draco grimaced as he surveyed the room. What the hell were all these weird looking contraptions? The only thing in here worthwhile was the bed. ‘Look at all this worthless shit.’

Draco moved around, his fingers brushing over objects and hands repositioning others. He glanced over the impossibly tidy desk, glancing to see if he could find out anything more about Adrien, and skimming his eyes over the surface. He lifted the object in the corner, holding down some paper. He studied it, frowning as the words Try Again Later appeared inside it.

Why would anyone need a black ball with random words in it? He gave it a shake. Better Luck Next Time. What the hell was that supposed to mean?

The paper underneath was bright and far too happy for his liking.

Get ready to sway the night away! Francoise DuPont Spring Fling!

Draco snorted, placing the black ball back down on top. You wouldn’t find him swaying anywhere. Hopefully, he can meet with Hermione tomorrow and she will have used that abnormally big brain of hers to have found a way back home.

Wandering over to the game machines, Draco shook his head. ‘Stupid muggle things.’

‘Muggle? What are you, a Fraggle? You’re just making up words!’ Oh great, the kwami was back.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Draco shook his head. ‘No! A muggle. You know, non magical folk.’

‘Folk? Oh man, I’ve hit the jackpot with you.’

‘You’re magical. How have you never heard that word before?’

Plagg zoomed over towards the bed. Draco followed, climbing up and leaning back against the pillows. Plagg had settled beside him on a pillow with quite the funky smell.

‘Believe me, the last time I was with a wizard, they were still talking like a badly written Shakespeare play.’ He pulled a lump of something that smelled like socks from under the pillow and tossed it into the air, swallowing it in one swift motion. It was both disgusting and quite impressive.

A photograph caught Draco’s eye. Reaching out to the side table, he noticed a rather ridiculous amount of photos of Adrien with a short girl with black hair. Marinette, he guessed.

‘So, you’ve been with a wizard?’ Draco lifted the covers, climbing underneath to find the sheets were nothing more than divine! The luxury thread count was a definite positive to this shit situation. He could definitely get used to this.

‘Believe it or not, yes. There was a time when we were all wielded by witches or wizards.’

Draco rolled to his side, tucking his hand under his pillow to talk to Plagg. ‘Anyone I would know?’

Plagg shrugged. ‘The snake was once with Salazar Slytherin.’

Draco pouted and nodded his head. ‘The snake definitely has taste. How about you? Who were you with?’

Plagg settled down. Sliding his little body underneath the duvet. Draco couldn’t help but pray his breath didn’t stink, especially now Plagg’s mouth was at his nose level. ‘If you must know, I was with Godric.’

‘Gryffindor?!’ Draco shouted, louder than intended. Plagg moved forward, placing a tiny hand over his mouth and shushing him–actually shushing.

‘Yes, Godric Gryffindor. It’s those brave at heart which wield my powers.’

Draco scoffed. ‘That’s a dig if I’ve ever heard one.’

‘I bet you’ve never done a nice thing a day in your life. You’re a Slytherin, I guess.’

Draco shuffled uncomfortably. A year ago he would have announced he was a Slytherin, proud and loud, but now? Now…well, now it was a whole other question. He shrugged and lay back on the pillow next to Plagg’s, arms behind his head. He looked around at the different activities and hi-tech gadgets in the room, trying to find anything to sway the conversation in a different direction.

‘Does this dude never get out?’ He laughed, noticing how Plagg had become still beside him. ‘Why would you need all this crap?’

Plagg's voice was quiet as he spoke, barely above a whisper. ‘He never had a choice but to stay here. Until he received me, he was locked in this cage.’

Draco huffed. ‘I know what that’s like.’ Before Plagg could speak again. Draco found himself wondering. ‘So what about the other Miraculous holders? Who were they with?’

Plagg looked thoughtful for a moment. Draco looked up at the ceiling right at the point Plagg was staring.

‘Most had a holder. It just took a while for Tikki to find hers. Godric was great with the ladies, they wanted to be with him and to be seen with him, the opposite to Slytherin. He was an outcast. Godric was his only friend, then one day a girl transferred from Beauxbatons. She was beautiful, sweet, and kind. And everyone wanted her. Including Salazar. But she only had eyes for one boy–’

‘Let me guess: Gryffindor. Typical.’

Plagg nodded. ‘A lot has been said about the feud between the two, but it was her who caused it. The Ladybug. The snake and the cat have always wanted the same partner, but it’s always the cat that succeeds. Some think it’s fate. Others think it’s destiny. Salazar, however, saw it as a betrayal and left the partnership and Hogwarts. They never spoke again.’

Draco thought about it for a moment. Maybe he was born to have the snake? There was no chance he’d belong to Gryffindor. But the curiosity was too much to hold in. ‘Which Miraculous do you think would pair with me?’

Plagg took a moment to study him, Draco feeling like his innermost demons had been placed on display. ‘Only time will tell, kid. Only time will tell.’

Chapter Text

Hermione

Hermione entered through the back door of the boulangerie before silently creeping up the staircase, trying to miss any creaky floorboards on her way.

Tikki flew out, leading her to a door at the top of the staircase. ‘In here,’ she whispered, transporting through the doorway and leaving Hermione on the other side.

Carefully, she twisted the door knob, wincing as it clicked and slid open. Now would not be an ideal time to be meeting Marinette’s parents, not when she was so discombobulated.

‘This way.’ Tikki continued in front of her, leading Hermione to a small staircase just off a kitchenette. Even in darkness, Hermione could feel the homely vibes. The outlines of frames she guessed held family photographs, the flowers.

‘It’s so cosy,’ Hermione said, her voice in hushed tones against the silence. She spotted a small jar sitting on the counter. Moving towards it, she lifted it, placing it at her nose and taking a quick sniff, only to instantly regret it.

The jar was full of spices. She started to cough and sputter, letting out a couple of sneezes to add to the orchestra of chaos. Her throat burned, her eyes watering as she unconditionally moved around the cabinets. She opened and closed the doors praying one would unveil a glass or a tub of some sort, anything she could put water in and drink.

Finally, she found a bowl. That would have to do.

Taking it to the faucet, she filled it with water and chugged it down, similar to the last time she had a Pumpkin Juice drinking contest at the Weasley’s house.

‘Are you okay, sweetheart?’ Spinning around, she almost dropped the bowl as she came face to face with a smaller woman. Her eyes turned down as she stepped forward and placed the back of her hand to Hermione’s forehead. ‘Do you need anything?’

‘I, er, I had an itch in my throat. Nothing serious. I just needed some water.’

The woman laughed, taking the bowl from her hands and placing it on the counter. ‘You must have really needed it to be drinking out of a mixing bowl.’ She moved effortlessly to another cupboard and pulled out a glass, filling it up and handing it over. ‘Here.’

‘Thank you.’ Hermione gratefully took the glass, taking a rather hefty gulp as the pleasure of the cold water slid down her throat, finally taking the burning sensation away. She studied the woman in front of her. She was short, yet everything about her was clear; she had a big heart. From the way she smiled at her daughter, to the care she took. The way she’d moved into momma bear mode was so similar to what her own mother would have done. Her eyes burned from the pressure, her nose itching as she tried to keep control.

‘Did you hear the akuma?’ Marinette’s mother said, moving about the kitchen and making herself a glass of water.

Hermione’s head shot up to look at the woman in front. Did she know about Marinette’s superhero activities? The fact they had secret identities must have been a sure sign that she didn’t.

‘Yeah, it seemed to be a loud one tonight.’

‘I don’t know how Ladybug and Chat Noir do it. They barely seem old enough to be out of school.’ She grabbed their empty glasses and moved them to the sink. ‘Talking about school, you have early lessons tomorrow so off you go. Try and get some sleep.’

Marinette’s mother moved back to her, kissing her on the cheek and wrapping her in a tight protective hug. She may not know about Marinette’s secret alter ego, but there was no doubt in Hermione’s mind that she would support and care for her daughter no matter what.

Hermione squeezed her tighter, taking strength she no longer had from her own. Not since removing their memories the previous year and sending them off to Australia. The pain was unlike anything as she buried her head into this woman’s shoulder, and, for that moment, she imagined this mother was her own.

‘Hey, sweetheart, what’s wrong?’ The woman cradled the back of her head into shoulder, shushing her like she was a scared infant in need of love.

‘It’s just that time of the month,’ Hermione said, wiping her hand under her eyes. ‘I should be okay after a good night's sleep.’

The woman stared at her for a while, before reaching up and stroking her face. ‘If you need anything, just let me know. I love you.’

‘I love you too,’ the words came out thick. The meaning more than just a daughter to her mother, it was a daughter to a mother that she’d lost.

Heading up the staircase, Hermione glanced back once more before continuing into Marinette’s room and closing the trapdoor behind her. She rubbed her eyes aggressively, searching out the closest thing to her that she could sit on.

‘Are you okay?’ Tikki said, hovering over in front of Hermione, a tissue in hand.

Regardless of where it had come from, Hermione was glad to have it, wiping down her face and trying to control herself. She hadn’t spoken about this to anyone, not for a while anyway. When she’d set the memory charm on her parents to protect them from Death Eaters and Voldermort himself, she didn’t think she was going to make it through the war. Putting herself on the line for the greater good and not wanting them to feel the loss of her. The added defense against possible torture didn’t hurt either. Harry and Ron had known but it was merely a passing conversation before the battle began. Then Harry had sacrificed himself, and Ron had lost his brother, Fred.

The memory charm was nothing more than a chapter in the past, everyone now looking on to the present while she still was captured by the thoughts.

And so, for the first time in over a year, she let it all out. She felt, she cried, she screamed. She unloaded all of her pent up emotions on Tikki, the kwami sitting and listening with care, asking questions when needed and comforting when it became too hard.

‘I’m sorry,’ Hermione eventually said, breathing out and finally feeling lighter from the emotional outburst she’s just unloaded.

Tikki shook her head. ‘Nothing to be sorry about. You’re so much like Marinette, it’s scary.’

‘Why? Is she a disaster too?’ The laugh which followed her question was forced and fake.

Looping around, Tikki settled down on Hermione’s knee. ‘You both don’t consider what you’re feeling, you just think about others at the detriment of yourself. If you keep holding everything in, the release will be nothing short of a destructive explosion. There’s things Marinette knows, things which she keeps secret, that when they come out…well…there is no positive outcome.’

‘That sounds ominous,’ she chuckled.

‘That’s because it is. Now, come on, have a look around.’

Standing slowly, Hermione made her way around Marinette’s room, looking at the posters on the walls and items scattered around on worktops. It was quite the eclectic display of belongings. There were the design and fashion items, including a sewing machine and dummies, alongside the latest gaming consoles. If this was how Marinette’s room looked, she wished she could be with Draco turning up at Adrien’s. Hermione smiled at the many magazine covers containing Adrien Agreste front and centre. He would be both hating the ‘muggle’ attention, and loving the fame.

Climbing the ladder, she crawled onto Marinette’s bed and stopped in front of the corkboard loaded with pictures of herself with others. Friends, she guessed. Her eyes locked on one of someone familiar, and not Adrien. Instead, it was the girl who’d chased her down earlier that day.

‘That’s the girl that ran after me.’ Hermione removed the picture of herself and the girl with the red hair from the board, holding it up so Tikki could see it too.

‘That’s Alya,’ Tikki explained, moving around to the other pictures. ‘She’s Marinette’s best friend.’

‘Does she know? About Marinette being Ladybug?’

Tikki nodded, taking the photograph and adding it back onto the board. ‘Alya is the only one Marinette has outright told. There are a couple of other people too, but I don’t think it’s my place to say who they are.’

‘Absolutely,’ Hermione agreed. ‘The less I know the better. The last thing we would want is for Marinette to be found out because of my mistake.’

‘She’s the guardian of the Miraculous too. She looks after all us kwamis when we’re not with our holders.’

‘Guardian? That sounds like a lot of pressure.’

Tikki headed onto the pillow beside the bed. ‘It is, especially for someone as young as her. She’s dealing with it well though. I just wish she’d open up to those who could help more.’

‘Like her partner?’ Hermione asked. Tikki smiled in response.

‘I can’t imagine dating the person who you fight with everyday without knowing. It’s such a weird, complicated love story.’

‘That it is.’

Hermione moved on the bed, pulling the sheets back so she could climb under. The material was cold, yet comforting, and Hermione couldn’t help but feel some comfort from having Tikki beside her. She thought about Marinette, waking up in the Gryffindor dormitory, alone. She would wander down to breakfast, into the middle of a messy split with one of her best friends and boyfriend of a year – Ron. A complicated relationship with Ginny because of Ron, plus the annoyance she had with Harry for remaining at Hogwarts when he didn’t need to. She would also have to deal with the shit she constantly received for tutoring Malfoy. Thank goodness only her closest friends knew.

‘Does anyone know about Adrien’s identity? Do people know he’s Chat Noir?’

Tikki was silent for a moment. ‘I believe there’s only one person who does…until now anyway.’

‘Is it bad that we know about each other?’

‘It’s not brilliant, but considering the circumstances, I think it’ll be beneficial.’

Snuggling into the bed deeper, Hermione lay on her side studying the pictures again. Marinette had a close bunch of friends, which was different to the small group she had. Yes, she had many acquaintances, but friends…they were minimal, and now things had gone wrong with Ron, she could only see the amount would start to decrease.

‘This is going to be a nice break. I need it.’

‘Things that bad at home?’

Hermione locked her eyes on Adrien’s photos. He oozed joy and love. Someone you would instantly want to befriend. ‘It’s complicated. This is how an eighteen year old should be living though. Not like me.’

‘What about Draco?’

Hermione scoffed. ‘Malfoy? Well, it’s fair to say we tolerate breathing the same air.’

In honesty, he was her reality check. Every study session was a reminder of what she did and why she’d done it. Every insult was nothing more than water off a duck's back. He couldn’t do anything to her anymore and she knew that. But she enjoyed the thrill of it, the pain he could cause her. When everything was numb and unsure, Malfoy was the one who’d kept her grounded, kept her feeling. Their relationship hadn’t changed and it was something that she was clinging to like a lifeline. His insults were a certainty, and the only sure thing in her life.

‘Well,’ Tikki said, flying down into the main area of her room, and reappearing with a pink polka dotted notebook. ‘You might want to check this out, because tolerating each other might not work here.’

Dropping the book beside Hermione, she sat up and opened it, only to be shocked and concerned about everything she read.

Chapter Text

Adrien

Adrien wondered if it was possible for a person's eyes to fall out if you don’t blink enough. And if so, his eyes must be on the verge of evacuation. He’d been wandering around for hours trying to find the girl with the raven hair.

He couldn’t stop his mind from spinning. She was here. Ladybug was here. He was certain of it.

But his attempts to run off and search were fruitless, it seemed Theo and Goyle were glued to him. He couldn’t go anywhere, except the bathroom, by himself. They were there in lessons. They were there at lunch. They were even there when he was wandering aimlessly around the grounds trying to find the girl he truly believed was his partner. He was quite sure without the extra added baggage he would have found her by now. But low and behold, he was stuck with Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum as his bodyguards.

He’d been to four classes so far. Transfiguration, Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts and herbology. Though different to what he was used to, Adrien was still enjoying the classes, the amount of correct answers earning him quizzical looks from others in the class. Obviously, Malfoy wasn’t an academic, which couldn’t bode well for Adrien Agreste’s perfect grade 1 scores.

There was so much to learn here. Not just the spells and incantations, but the history as well. The Great War was still fresh in everyone’s memories. But, also, with every minute, he knew a little more about the life of this body he’d possessed…and he wasn’t sure he liked it. Draco wasn’t a nice guy. He was egotistical, harsh and grim. A loner almost, even with Laurel and Hardy constantly following him around like little ducklings.

Moving out into the corridor, finally losing his tail, Adrien was suddenly glad the body he was in was as tall as his own, giving him a clear few inches above others to search over the crowds. He looked around, outside the windows into the grounds and at the groups of girls exiting classrooms. Then, there it was. The teasing strands of raven hair bounced as the girl attached to them turned the corner, the girl with bright red hair at her side.

Ladybug.

He moved forward, following the path she’d moved. Pushing through the crowds, he cursed under his breath as children half his size blocked the way. Was he this annoying and unaware at twelve years old?

Just in front, he saw the girl slow to a stop in front of a boy with jet black hair and thick rimmed glasses. A boy she was with this morning.

A small first year stepped in his way. ‘Move!’ Adrien said, teeth clenched tightly together.

The boy yelped and moved to the side apologetic, but Adrien didn’t care, all he could think about was getting to Ladybug. It was her! It had to be her!

A group of girls came barrelling into the corridor through one of the outside archways, and straight in front of him blocking him from moving any further forward. He tried to push his way through, the anger bubbling up inside him like a cataclysm ready to explode. The girls were dancing from side to side as he tried to step through, blocking his way time and time again.

A chorus of ‘sorrys’ were thrown in his direction, but he didn’t care. Instead, he wanted to shout, to call for Ladybug, and to physically move these girls out of the way. But the attention wouldn’t do him any favours. Not at the moment, when people were already wondering what the hell was wrong with him.

He continued his square dance with the gaggle of girls. Bouncing on his feet, he watched the small group begin to move again, disappearing around a corner and out of his sight.

‘Shit!’

‘Mr Malfoy!’ The sound of his name had his back straightening. This couldn’t be good.

Turning slowly, he came face to face with the headmistress. Headmistress McGonagall. ‘Language like that is simply unacceptable in our corridors. 10 points from Slytherin.’

‘Sorry.’ The word leaving his mouth caused those around him to gasp and glare like he’d lost his mind.

McGonagall’s expression showed just as much surprise as she slowly turned and stalked away, glancing over her shoulder at him as she left.

‘Geez, Malfoy, you’re really not yourself at the moment.’ His ducklings had returned, this time bringing with them a third, Blaise Zabini. Another of Draco’s little cling-ons.

‘That’s one way of saying it,’ Goyle glared at him, almost trying to look through him for an answer Adrien didn’t know.

A sudden jolt hustled him forward. Arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him back into a body, one which was a lot smaller than his. This was not good.

A hand trailed under his robes and over his stomach. He glanced down, a long nail appeared through the black cotton complete with red nail varnish. He felt so uncomfortable. There were only two people who touched him so intimately: one in close combat, the other in close intimacy. Ladybug and Marinette, Marinette being the sole person to touch him more deeply, more meaningfully.

‘I was waiting for you.’ A deep female voice assaulted his ears, as the smell of something quite unpleasant reached his nose.

Finally freeing himself from the shock, he stepped forward, out of the hold and grip of whoever this girl was. He studied her. Her face was pug-like, an upturned nose and a rounded face. She had dark knotted hair, like a bird's nest tied in a band, backcombed and sprouting out in all different directions. He’d recognised her from breakfast, but there was something a little different. Wasn’t her hair tied up this morning?

‘Waiting for me? I, er,’ He didn’t know what to say, but that didn’t seem to deter the girl. She stepped forward again, stretching out for the opening of his robe and grasping it tightly in her clutch. She yanked, pulling him in towards her, their chests crashing and the breath leaving his lungs in an audible gasp.

‘I bet it was that mud-blood, wasn't it? Did she hex you or something? I don’t trust Granger. She’s probably cursing you–or worse.’

‘Granger? Who?’ The words stammered out of his mouth. Is that the same name as he’d heard earlier? The way he was going he’d need a notebook.

She cackled, tugging again and bringing him even closer. He found it so hard to not push her away in repulsion. He was sure Draco didn’t have a girlfriend and this was seriously overstepping boundaries…well, at least it was for him.

‘Oh, Draco,’ she said, looping an arm through his. ‘You really are the funniest.’

She marched him through the crowds, his head constantly glancing over his shoulder for a glimpse of the girl he needed to find. He needed to get back to Paris. He had to. The girl–Pansy maybe?- attached herself to his arm fiercely and began to weave them through the crowds effortlessly. Dragging him down the corridor, up a set of the strange moving staircases and into a quiet area of the castle. Without warning, she pushed him against the wall, her hand pressed firmly on his chest.

‘We’re alone now. What do you want to do?’

Jump out the window next to us and hope I land on Lady Luck?

Adrien ducked under her arm and moved out the way. ‘It’s dinner time soon, we need to go to the Great Hall.’

Without a second thought, Adrien turned his back on her, ignoring the curses coming from behind him, and began to make his way down the corridor, not quite sure where he was going, but feeling lighter with every step.

After three attempts, he finally seemed to find the correct way down, landing in the Great Hall, just as everyone was moving in for dinner. He stepped forward, full of determination she had to be in here. Everyone was in here. Not looking where he was going, Adrien collided with a girl just outside the main hall.

‘I’m so sorry,’ he said, catching her by the upper arms and stopping her from tumbling over.

‘Oh, it's perfectly alright. I was just wondering if you've seen a Crumple-Horned Snorkack around here? They can be quite elusive, you know.’ She smiled at him, her eyes twinkling with curiosity.

‘A Crumple-Horned... Snorkack? I haven’t…I–erm–no, but I’ll keep an eye out. And, erm, sorry again for bumping into you.’

He gave her a quick nod, then turned to make his way into the hall, cursing himself for once again being too polite. He hoped the girl hadn’t noticed. Maybe she didn’t know of him…but the way everyone stared as he walked in, that was a wish too far.

Moving slowly down the centre of the hall, he glanced upwards at the ceiling, tonight featuring shooting stars and forbidden planets. He headed in the direction of the Slytherin table, his eyes darting everywhere, when a glimpse of something grabbed his heart tightly and unforgivingly. Leaving the hallway was the black hair and red ribbons he’d been searching for all day, the girl he needed to help him get out of this place. The girl who was leaving the hall alongside the boy with black hair and glasses who he’d seen earlier. The girl who…

His breath caught and it felt like he’d been hit in the gut with a steel beam.

Before everything could register in his mind, she’d turned and walked away, leaving a lingering image in his mind, an image of someone he knew. And someone who wasn’t Ladybug.

Chapter Text

Draco

‘We’re…what?’ Draco stood staring at Hermione as though she’d gone insane, because there was no way, no way, she had gotten this correct. She was lying! She was trying to make him look like a fool, because there was no way in the deep fiery pits of hell this was going to happen.

‘Dating,’ she replied.

She had to be effing joking.

When he’d received a message from Tikki, at five that morning, to meet her on the rooftop, he could not have predicted this was the reason. To be honest, he thought she would have figured out how to get home by now. Wasn’t she meant to be a genius extraordinaire or something?

Hermione reached into her bag, and pulled out a weird white, pink and black notebook. ‘This is Marinette’s diary. She’s noted everything in here.’

Reaching out, he snatched the book from her hands, his eyes remaining on her as he began to flick through the pages. ‘You’re taking the piss!’

He glanced down at the open book and felt like he’d been stupefied. His eyes felt like they were going to fall out of his head. Hermione was right, Marinette had documented everything about her time with Adrien. From their first kiss to…well…he never expected to read something so detailed. It was like a cheap version of his mum’s muggle bought Mills and Boon–not that he’d ever read that, of course.

Slamming the book closed, Draco shoved it back in her direction. Throwing it out of his hands as though it had burned him. He did not need to be reading about another guy's goods.

‘We can’t be dating.’ He crossed his arms over his chest, stubborn in his standing. ‘I have standards, you know.’ His heartbeat rapidly as he focused on keeping his eyes on Hermione. He’d hidden far too much for far too long, this could be the first step to blowing his cover.

‘Well, we are. They’re the golden couple of their lycée. We have no choice.’

‘We’ll just break up.’

Hermione growled like a weird caged animal and he had to stifle his laugh. Merlin, she was fun to get all riled up. Her cheeks always transformed from a funny pink and her hair seemed to grow wilder, even if it was in strange bunches.

‘We can’t just break up, Malfoy. That’s not fair on Marinette and Adrien. There’ll be too many questions when they come back which nobody can answer.’

‘We’ll get the gremlins to do it.’

‘Hey!’ Plagg announced, finally arriving from his hiding place in Hermione’s bag.

Draco smirked. Maybe Plagg was more fun to annoy than Hermione. At least the red one (whose name had slipped his mind) had been pretty quiet.

‘We can’t just mess up their timeline, Malfoy. Did you not pay any attention to Arithmancy?’

‘Of course I didn’t. Professor Vector is a dud!’

Hermione was gawking at him, and he had to do everything in his power to not burst out laughing… or take a picture.

‘I’m going to ignore what you said because you are wrong.’

He opened his mouth to retaliate when she held a hand up stopping him. How dare she!

‘If you did listen, you would understand that something as simple as a “short break up” could cause a tear in the space-time continuum.’

‘The what?’

‘The fabric of time, you imbecile!’

‘Imbecile?’ he scoffed. ‘At least I’m not wound tighter than your study schedule.’

The pink that had dusted her cheeks suddenly flared into a fire engine red. ‘You really don’t get how serious this is. Not just for them, but for us, too. Just think about it…if they are in Hogwarts, and are in fact a couple, I’m quite sure they will be doing coupley things.’

Thank goodness he hadn’t already eaten breakfast, because the way his stomach just rolled he was seconds away from throwing up. Him and her. No, thank you! His back teeth started to grind together as he looked at her. Was she smug? What the hell did she have to be smug about? He was certain there was more dislike from her side than his.

He ground his teeth harder, his mouth barely opening as he spoke. ‘What do we need to do?’

The smile on her face almost had him testing out exactly what his ‘superpower’ could do. The only reason he was agreeing to this was the hope that maybe, just maybe, this could help influence Hermione to find a way back home, sooner rather than later. He’d just need to up his annoyance, that wouldn’t take a lot.

‘We keep up the charade. Just make sure nobody questions too much and I’ll keep working on finding us a way home.’

He stood for a moment, studying her face. ‘Fine,’ he finally said. ‘But there’s no way I’m letting you kiss me.’

She scoffed. Her mouth tensed and caused her eyes to grow. ‘I wouldn’t want to kiss you. I have taste.’

Now that was definitely a joke. One which caused him to howl in laughter. ‘Okay, sure. Whatever you say, Granger.’

‘And you can’t call me that!’

‘What am I meant to call you? Mud—’ Before he could even finish the word, a flash of pink had blinded him and suddenly his arms were attached securely to his sides.

‘What the hell is wrong with you?’ she hissed.

As much as she looked as though she wanted to kill him, he couldn’t deny how the red suited her as she stood in front of him dressed like a giant bug. Though her snooty remarks were a turn off, her body was perfectly formed and in the tight material of the suit, he was going to enjoy it…he’d just switch off his listening and pretend she was a mute.

A tug at the corner of his lips was nothing compared to the sudden pull of the yo-yo, sending him spinning and swirling over the rooftop and colliding with a chimney. He pushed himself off the brick wall, turning sharply to face Hermione, or should he say Ladybug.

‘Watch the face will you!’

She stood there, playing with the yo-yo like some sort of champion yo-yo-er or whatever they were called. Her eyes were glistening with the most annoying smile on her face.

‘I don’t know!’ she said, moving closer towards him. ‘Your nose could do with shaving off a few inches.’

He moved forward, brushing himself down, and straightening his shirt. But she was too quick, already moving backwards, yo-yo attached to somewhere above them.

‘School starts in an hour. You need to come to the bakery and walk me. Plagg will give you directions.’

Draco crossed his arms, face stern and his head turning to focus out in the distance and away from her. ‘I know where it is.’

The flash of a line obstructed the perfect view of the city rooftops as Ladybug shut off in the direction of the boulangerie.

‘Don’t be late!’ Her voice carried with her as she swung off into the distance.

Oh, he definitely wouldn’t be late, and if she wasn’t woman enough to break up with him, he was going to make every single moment a living hell.

Chapter Text

Marinette

No! No! No!

Marinette buried her head in her hands, elbows balancing on the table as she rubbed the heels aggressively into her eyes.

‘Miss Granger!’

Looking up, Marinette could barely see through the black spots in her eyes. ‘Y-yes, Professor?’

‘Are you feeling unwell?’

She wasn’t sure what to say. Her teachers seemed to genuinely care about her, and the fact she has managed to get every question wrong so far today, and sit quietly at the back attempting to go unnoticed, seemed to be a red flag to all her professors.

Professors, not Sirs. A grave mistake she made in her first lecture that morning.

So far today, she had been asked if she was possessed twice, checked to see if she’d taken something called Polyjuice Potion once, and the most recent one…was she unwell.

‘No. I’m fine, thank you, Professor.’ She attempted to smile, her face transforming into something in between a grin and a grimace.

The stare he gave back was anything but friendly, if anything it was full of worry and, maybe, guilt.

‘Are you sure?’

Marinette nodded. Not wanting to respond again in case she gave the wrong answer, again.

Never in her life had she gotten this many questions wrong before. Fair enough it was for a subject she didn’t know, but there had to be a plausible percentage which she could get right. Instead, she found she couldn’t even write Hermione’s name correctly. Apparently, the ‘m’ wasn’t swirly enough.

As the Professor continued his lecture, obviously satisfied that she wasn’t being possessed by one of the many spirits haunting the school, a balled up piece of paper landed on her desk. She looked around. Everyone seemed to be focused on the lesson, not on her.

She stretched out. Paper clutched in her hand, she pulled it towards her, opening it slyly under the table.

I’m sorry. This is my fault.

Searching the room, there was no obvious writer. Everyone seemed to be scribing in their books, or concentrating on Professor Flitwick. But, just as she was turning back, she heard a slight cough behind her.

Ron.

He mouthed something to her. Her lip reading skills, non-existent. She squinted, trying to copy the mouth movement in an attempt to form the words.

Meat may…no…meet me tat…meet me at…

‘Miss Granger!’

Her head rotated too quickly, a sharp pain shooting with force up her neck. Surprise, mixed with the pain, caused her to stand from her seat. The impact of the sudden movement tipped the desk. Her books flew from the desk like a baby bird leaving its nest. A fast, harsh impact to the ground.

The thud echoed around the room, pausing the lesson and causing all eyes to land on her. Marinette’s cheeks prickled, her skin feeling as though it was being attacked by thousands of needles.

‘Actually, Sir—I mean, Professor—I’m not feeling too great. I think I need to go…now. Go now…to the nurse. Go to the nurse.’

Bending down, she grabbed her books and her bag. She slammed her bag on the desk, the book following swiftly inside. She could feel everyone staring. Her Professor hovering and seemingly unsure what exactly to do.

That made two of them.

‘I’ll just…’ She turned to make her way out the door. But her first step was nothing more than disastrous. As her foot met the floor, her toes found something else. Her pens.

Her ankle rolled, her knee buckling by the sudden change in direction, taking her down to the ground. If she thought her books had made a loud noise, it was nothing compared to the sickening thud of her body hitting the floor. Her knees took the brunt of the impact. A hard noise echoing on repeat.

A stifling silence was broken as the room broke into wild unhinged laughter.

Marinette scrambled back onto her feet. Her neck and knees, the casualties of this class. The prickling in her cheeks intensified. A sharp pain building behind her eyes. She can’t cry. Not here, not now!

The laughter continued. Each pitch a stab to her heart.

If she didn’t get out now, she was certain she was going to cry. The door was only a few steps away, yet every single one felt like another failure. She thought life in Paris was complicated, but it was nothing compared to this…to who she was meant to be.

Hermione was a grade A, fails at nothing, student. She was a favourite of most teachers, enthusiastic and extremely intelligent. She couldn’t do this–the pressure was too much. She needed to get home.

Fiercely, she wiped under her eyes. She wished Chat Noir was here with her. Someone she could talk to, someone who could support her and understand. This was too difficult to do alone.

‘Hermione!’

She didn’t want to talk to anyone right now. She just wanted to find the common room, get into bed and hide under the covers until someone defeated the akuma and brought her back home.

‘Hermione!’

Marinette stopped, not because someone was trying to catch her up, but because the stairs were once again playing with her mind–moving away from her and mocking her attempt at an escape.

A hand grasped her shoulder, giving a small tug and turning her around. ‘Hey, are you okay?’

Hermione’s friend, Harry, stood behind her. His eyebrows pinched as he spoke. ‘Are you okay?’

Wasn’t that just the question of the day?

‘Yup. Why?’

She attempted to remain nonchalant, like what just happened in the classroom had been nothing more than a figment of his imagination. Unfortunately, she was quite certain the tear streaks cutting through her makeup were making that quite impossible. She rubbed her fist under her eyes again, before wiping under her nose.

‘Listen, if something’s bothering you, Hermione, you can always speak to me. Or Ron. Or Ginny. You don’t need to always act like you’re okay.’

Always act? What the hell was happening?

‘I’m fine, seriously. Just, you know…girl things.’

‘Girl things?’ Harry tilted his head to one side.

Marinette nodded. ‘Yes, just…you know…’

They stood staring at each other for a moment. Harry looked as though he was going through the most complicated potions equation in his head. ‘Oh!’ His eyes widened as the ball finally dropped.

It was a cheap excuse, but one she knew a male wouldn’t question. Unless their name was Adrien and they’d turn up with your favourite chocolate, a selection of pads and an abundance of cuddles. Her heart squeezed again. Oh, how she missed him!

‘C-can I do anything?’

She shook her head. ‘I just need to rest. I’ll be okay.’ She stepped forward and placed a hand on his arm. ‘Thank you for asking.’

‘I’ll see you at the match in an hour?’

Match? She wasn’t sure what the match was, but knowing their friendship and Hermione, there was only one response.

‘Sure. I’ll be there.’

Turning, she began to walk away. She needed to find someone and check what this match actually was, however that wasn't a priority at the moment. Priority was to go and find a quiet corner and cry.

Heading down the corridor without a destination in mind, she considered her options. Maybe she’d just wander around a little, perhaps go to the library and look to see if there’s anything there that could help bring her back to Paris. Who knows, maybe there’s a Miraculous here too? Stranger things have happened.

Each corridor was the same, yet different. The columns were stone and medieval, the lanterns on the walls flickering with flames and lighting the pathways. But the walls were always different. Always alive. The pictures were moving, talking, and socialising. Each passing from one frame to the other, catching up with friends and causing mischief.

She was currently in the quad. A small courtyard to her right with benches and trees. The plants were budding, ready to reveal themselves to the world and bring some colour for the long awaited spring. It had been a drearily winter, cold and unforgiving. The promise of something new and more vibrant, hopeful was thrilling.

Stopping at the end of the corridor, she looked from left to right. Right would take her round and back to where she came from. Left would take her deeper into the castle. The halls were quiet. Only a few older students roaming, possibly on their study breaks.

Marinette turned left, taking herself deeper into the castle. Turn after turn, she took in the magnificent designs and grand structure, using it as a distraction to calm herself. Each step echoed. The shadows of her robes kept her company as they danced across the ground in front of her, swishing to and fro around her feet.

‘And where do you think you’re going?’

Freezing in her tracks, Marinette glanced over her shoulder. Standing there was none other than the Hogwarts caretaker, Filch.

‘I wasn’t feeling too well, so I was going to the hospital wing,’ she lied.

‘Well, you must know, Miss Granger, you are going the wrong way.’

‘Oh!’ Of course she was, because firstly she wasn’t aiming for the infirmary and secondly, she had no idea where the wing actually was. She turned around, dropping her shoulders in an attempt to make him feel sorry for her. From the look on his face, it might actually be working.

‘Has Malfoy been playing tricks with your memory again?’

Malfoy—that name mentioned again. She needed to find out who this Malfoy was and their relationship. Why would Hermione spend time with someone who was so obviously untrustworthy?

She moved forward shaking her head. ‘No, it’s just…girl problems.’

‘Girl problems?’ The caretaker questioned, almost as confused as Harry.

‘Yup, you know the thing that comes every month.’ As she spoke something behind him began to scream for her attention. At least that was how it felt.

A door started to morph and form. Wide and distracting. A pointed doorway, complete with golden intricate pattern looping and swirling to form shapes. A pattern that seemed familiar, yet different. Almost like…

‘You’re not listening to me, are you?’ Filch’s voice snapped her out of the trance. Her eyes shifted from the door back to him.

‘S-sorry.’

He shook his head, walking past her, her eyes locked onto him as he moved. ‘Get yourself sorted out, Granger, before you find yourself in trouble again.’

A slow, long exhale was let out as he rounded the corner. Slowly, Marinette turned back to look at the door, only to see bricks in its place. Stepping forward, she stroked a hand over it. The brick was cold and still, unmoving under her hand.

Whatever she thought she’d seen must have been some sort of hallucination, yet a bubbling in her stomach told her to be watchful and be aware. This place had more secrets hidden than she did.

Chapter Text

Adrien

It was pretty impressive how many explosions you could cause before someone attempted to stop you from trying. For example, Adrien had tried the same ingredient combination three times until someone stepped in to sort out where he was going wrong. He’d caused a red explosion which still lingered on the ceiling like stars, a grey cloud of smoke which was currently hovering over someone called Neville letting out a rather intense rain storm, and the most recent one, well…let’s just say the chairs weren’t going to be moving anytime soon, as thanks to him and his appalling potion skills, they were now stuck to the floor.

He glanced around the room. Everyone was a lot more successful than he was. Granted he’d never done witchcraft before, he was good at math, and this seemed like basic math. A pinch of this, 25ml of that—basic math. So why wasn’t it working?

‘Slowly,’ his Professor said. His hand mimicked tipping the beaker of Dragon’s blood very slowly into the boiling cauldron in front of him.

Adrien picked up the beaker again. He studied the Professor's movements one last time, before concentrating on adding the red liquid to the already bubbling mix.

Here goes nothing.

With intense concentration, Adrien tipped the beaker, the blood moving slowly and cautiously towards the edge, and time seemed to still. The drop caught on the edge of the glass, Adrien’s breath holding tightly in his throat as he gave it a small, tentative tap.

It moved.

A slight wobble backwards and forwards as it decided what to do.

‘Again,’ his Professor whispered, his eyes firmly locked on the droplet clinging on for dear life.

Adrien pulled his finger back and swiftly moved it forward, tapping the bottom of the glass. It wobbled again, but still did release.

‘Again,’ his Professor said, though this time a little louder. His face had moved in closer. The grey fog from mistake number two still coating the rim of his glasses.

Adrien tapped the beaker again. This time, a little harder.

Nothing.

‘Again!’ The Professor's voice was increasing in volume, the attention from the surrounding tables now on him and the Professor rather than their own cauldrons.

Tap! Tap! Tap!

Nothing!

‘Give it some effort, boy!’ His Professor was pretty much yelling at him now. Adrien startled into action and gave the beaker one last hearty tap.

Boom!

The cauldron exploded. Thick green powder formed a cloud of dust as the mixing spoon fired into the air like Apollo 11.

Spinning round in some sort of tantalising dance, the spoon started its descent, down and down, right into a bowl on the opposite side of the room.

‘Mr Malfoy.’ His Professor called his body’s name, pulling his attention from the great escape spoon back to the very pissed off man in front of him. He’d taken his glasses off and was currently cleaning the green dust from them on his robe. But that didn’t exactly help the rest of his face. His eyes are fully on display, clean and clear. Unlike the rest of his face which was coated with green.

‘I’m sorry,’ Adrien whispered.

The Professor shook his head. ‘Good luck to Granger.’ He turned and made his way back to his desk.

The snickering around him grew progressively louder. People pointing and mimicking the spoons journey across the room like an aeroplane.

‘Class is over.’ The Professor messed in his drawers, finally appearing with a towel and wiping it over his face.

There was no need to tell Adrien twice. Grabbing his belongings, he moved out the room in a well practised dance, dodging others and pushing his way through to the front of the crowd. Heading into the hallway, he navigated down the corridors, making his way to the Great Hall and hopefully towards the girl he saw yesterday. He was almost certain it was Ladybug, but also Marinette.

His heart jumped like he’d been zapped with electricity. Could she be here? Could Marinette be here? And even more so, could she be Ladybug? He couldn’t stop thinking about it. The similarities and the non-existent differences. His mind was scrambled. He needed to get home and sort this akuma out…but how could that happen if they were both here?

Standing at the top of the staircase, he waited (impatiently) for it to come back around, eventually stepping onto it and waiting for it to move again. If he could make it to the Great Hall, there was a chance she would be in there and he could finally put his mind to rest.

Would he see his girlfriend?

Would he see his partner?

Would he see both?

The excitement mixed with the nerves. He’d been let down too many times to build his hopes up.

‘Did you see her?’

‘Who?’

‘Hermione?’

Adrien’s ears peaked up at the conversation behind him. Hermione? Wasn’t that the girl who Draco had been with the night before? The one who was tutoring him?

‘Oh my god! Yes! What an absolute disaster!’

Disaster? Adrien turned himself, placing his arms on the banister as the staircase moved again. He quickly glanced backwards at the two girls.

‘She fell down like a stunned Cornish Pixie.’ Both girls giggled and Adrien turned his head a little more. Glancing at the girls wearing blue and silver. Ravenclaws, he believed.

They caught him, their laughter dissolving quickly as they stared back. Both turned around, their backs to him as they continued their whispered conversation. He couldn’t hear anymore, but he didn’t think he needed to. Hermione was the girl he was looking for…more to the fact…his girl.

As soon as the staircase connected to the ground, Adrien jumped off and headed towards the Great Hall, the table decorated in gold and red, his destination.

‘Hey, Malfoy.’ Theo appeared, strutting out of the Great Hall and swinging an arm over his shoulders. He really didn’t have time for this.

‘Hey,’ Adrien replied, gazing over the other guy's shoulder and into the Great Hall, hoping he could catch a glimpse of familiar black hair.

Theo turned. He glanced over his shoulder and around the hall, before gazing back at Adrien obviously curious to what was happening. ‘You okay, mate?’

Nodding, Adrien fixed on the fake smile he used so often and prayed it appeared on Draco’s face as well as his own. ‘Yep. Great. What’s up?’

He crossed his arms over his chest. Standing with the lazy attitude people seemed to expect from Draco. Theo squinted even more.

‘Listen, I know you wanted to quit. But the team’s depending on you.’

Depending on him? As in on Draco. It didn’t feel like Draco was the dependable sort. Everything he’d come to know about the boy whose body he was in was the complete opposite.

Theo sighed. ‘Draco, come on! I thought you wanted to give the school a new legacy for the Malfoy name, and delete your father from the history books. You’ve been training all summer for this.’

His father? What had Draco’s father done?

‘I’m not sure—’

‘Come on, Draco. Don’t live in his shadow anymore. You're the team captain, they need you.’

One of Adrien’s greatest weaknesses was not wanting to let people down, and right now, the look of want and need on Theo’s face could just about have him agreeing to anything. Plus, he was the captain. He should be there leading his team…maybe he could fake an injury or something? It was most likely going to be some sort of team match like football or rugby.

The signet ring on his right hand mocked him. Did he truly believe he was nothing without the Miraculous? Was he nothing without his Miraculous? There were so many questions he needed answering, a lot of which he could only answer himself. If he wanted to get out of this place, it needed to start with some self belief, if Ladybug wasn’t here then he was the one who needed to make the plans. And to start with, he could do with getting some people on his side.

‘Okay. Let’s do this.’

After being dragged into a locker room, being made to give a speech and then handed a broomstick, Adrien was thinking his selflessness had once again sent him in at the deep end.

However, after thirty minutes of chaos, he was actually enjoying himself. Adrien hovered above the ground, uncertainly, gripping the handle of his broom tightly. He still hadn’t figured out the rules of this sport, but at least he wasn’t immediately plummeting to his doom. That was progress.

Bright banners flapped wildly in the wind, their colours blurring together as the players below streaked across the field. Red and gold. Green and silver.

The stands were packed with students screaming and cheering, their voices rising in a deafening roar that carried across the pitch.

Opposite, he spotted a familiar figure: Harry Potter, unmistakable with his messy black hair and round glasses. He was circling high above the game, his red and gold robes fluttering around him. It took Adrien a moment to realise that they had the same position—Seeker.

Harry looked utterly at ease, his body perfectly balanced on his broom as he scanned the field. Adrien frowned, trying to mimic the way Potter moved, but it was useless. Every time he adjusted his grip, the broom twitched beneath him, reacting too quickly to his movements. How the hell was this thing so sensitive?

Below them, the game was a chaotic whirlwind of players diving, passing, and slamming into each other at terrifying speeds. The Quaffle—some kind of red ball—was being tossed between teammates in Gryffindor uniforms, while his team did their best to intercept. Bludgers—small, vicious balls with minds of their own—hurtled through the air, barely missing players as they dodged out of the way. Adrien had nearly been taken out by one in the first five minutes, and he still wasn’t convinced it wasn’t actively trying to kill him. If only he had his staff with him.

He glanced back at Potter, who was suddenly leaning forward, his eyes locked on something near the ground. Adrien followed his gaze but saw nothing. Then, in a flash, Harry moved, diving downward in a blur of speed.

Panic flared in Adrien’s chest. Oh, hell. That’s probably important.

Gritting his teeth, he flew after him, the wind whipping against his face as he shot down. He kept his eyes on Harry, trying to determine where he was going and what he was trying to grab. And there it was, something gold with wings fluttering at the sides. The Golden Snitch.

Harry pulled up, moving past him at speed in the opposite direction. Adrien leaned to the side, swinging himself around and upwards to chase Harry. The thrill was exhilarating, as the wind roared in his ears. But then, everything around him fell silent.

Adrien’s eyes firmly locked onto someone in the crowd. His heart pounded, half from the chase and half from the sight of her.

Marinette.

She stood in the Gryffindor stands, her bluebell eyes wide, hands clenched as she watched the game unfold. She wasn’t just here—she was with them. Gryffindor.

Her eyes moved from Harry down towards the ground, and he could tell the exact moment they landed on him. Her mouth dropped, eyes widening as everything registered.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Harry move again. Cutting across the pitch towards the Slytherin section. Adrien wanted to win. For her.

He smirked, determination flaring in his chest. On instinct, he dropped her a wink, reveling in the way her cheeks flushed pink. Then, with a final burst of speed, he moved. Channelling his hidden super skills, he lunged forward, his broom taking off with precision and speed.

Passing Harry, his eyes locked on certain victory flying slightly ahead. Then, with a final burst of speed, he reached out—

His fingers closed around something small, warm, and fluttering. The Snitch.

The stadium erupted. Cheers and groans filled the air, but all Adrien heard was the pounding of his heart. He’d done it. He’d actually done it. He lifted the Snitch high, golden wings struggling against his grip as he presented the trophy to the stands.

With a wide, slightly obnoxious grin, he turned toward the Gryffindor stands, searching out Marinette in the crowds. And there she was.

He could tell she was holding back. That she wanted to celebrate with him. He’d seen that look before. The look of pride and awe.

The victory lap around the stadium continued. The rest of the Slytherin team fly to join him. Hands clapped him on the back as cheering roared through the stands. Lowering down, he came to a stop, hopping off his broom and handing the Snitch to Madam Hooch, the referee with yellow hawk-like eyes.

‘Congratulations, Malfoy. Nice to see some clean play from you for a change.’

Adrien felt his face heat. That could not be good, though hopefully because he’d won that’d be forgotten. His eyes turned towards the stands again, searching for Marinette.

‘Or perhaps someone’s making a difference with you.’

The warmth turned into a full on boil as his face seemed to catch on fire.

‘No. No difference. Nothing at all.’ Adrien turned to face her, a smile plastered on his face as he straightened his shoulders. She was a small woman. At least a foot and half shorter than him, yet the aura around her made him fear for his life.

A hand clamped on his shoulder. He turned around to see Harry standing behind him, one hand held out. Adrien glanced over his shoulder, looking for any sign of Marinette, but it seemed the Gryffindor supporters had already made their way back to their dormitory.

‘It was nice to play fair for a change.’ Harry moved his hand, drawing attention to it.

Stretching out, Adrien joined them together, a gentleman’s handshake of sportsmanship and respect.

‘I’ve turned a new leaf,’ Adrien responded with a tug of his lips.

‘Draco! Draco! Draco!’ The chanting sounded behind him, growing louder and louder as a rather large group of Slytherins moved towards him.

‘I’ll leave you to celebrate then,’ Harry said, giving a small smile and taking a step back.

Reaching out, Adrien grabbed Harry’s arm. ‘Where’s Hermione?’

Harry looked uncomfortable by his question, a hesitation in his eyes as he looked around the pitch. ‘Listen, Malfoy, I understand you’re trying to make amends, and that Hermione is helping you. But please, when she’s not tutoring you, leave her be. Whatever you’re doing to her is messing her up.’

‘But—’

‘Stay away. Please.’

Without another word, he turned and strode away. Adrien watched, standing still, until he was engulfed by the others from his team. By those who wanted to be around him, but not by the one he needed.

They headed back towards the dungeons and into the dorm room. Banners hung from the ceiling and a party was in full swing, he, of course, was the VIP.

‘Want a beer man? One positive of being eighteen and still at Hogwarts, at least we can get wrecked in the dorms without any trouble.’ Goyle threw him a bottle, Adrien catching it effortlessly in one hand. Dragon’s Draught, a horrible yellowy brown colour sloshing around in the bottle.

‘I’m ok, man. I’m just going to take a shower, and maybe get an early night. I’m exhausted.’

Goyle stared at him as though he’d just admitted to wanting to join the Hufflepuffs and go streaking through the Forbidden Forest.

‘Exhausted?’ Goyle scoffed, nodding to Theo in an indication to come and join them. ‘Come on, mate, you won the game today. First time we beat Gryffindor fair and square since…well…ever.’

Adrien shrugged. ‘You know I was up late working last night, and then with the mess in potions and playing…I just…I want a shower and bed. I promise we’ll celebrate the weekend.’

The two guys studied him like he’d gone insane. Finally, Theo spoke.

‘Whatever you say, mate.’ He held out a hand for Adrien to clap, grasping it instantly and pulling him into a hug with a hefty pat on the back. Goyle copied with the exact same movement.

Once freed, Adrien didn’t look back. He made his way into the bedroom and straight for the ensuite, turning on the shower and being glad for the moment away from the madness and giving him some much needed time to think.

She was here.

Marinette was here.

Marinette was Ladybug—that was the only possible way she was here.

He needed to find her. To ask her every insane question running through his head. But more than that he needed to hold her to hug her, because even if they were stuck here, they were stuck here together and that was fine. They would still be together—if he could get past Harry first.

Her name here was Hermione, and it seemed Draco and Hermione were not exactly the team himself and Marinette were, the team he and Ladybug were. No, there were still a lot of obstacles in the way, a lot of walls to scale, but they’d do it. Together.

The shower was refreshing and greatly appreciated, and now all he wanted to do was climb into bed, have a decent night sleep and go and find his girl in the morning. As he changed into his pyjama bottoms, he wondered if she was thinking of him, if she was having the same thoughts.

He couldn’t help smiling as he imagined her trying to escape from the Gryffindor tower. Attempting to sneak past everyone who wants to keep her away from Draco Malfoy.

That would all change tomorrow though. Hogwarts would see a new Draco Malfoy, one who was one hundred percent devoted to Hermione Granger.

Throwing a towel around his neck, he made his way out of the ensuite and towards his bed. Tomorrow could not come soon enough. Lifting the edge of the towel, Adrien ran it over his hair, giving it a quick dry before climbing into bed. His face was covered as he settled into bed, his hand reaching out to turn off the lamp before throwing the towel to the side.

As he settled back onto the pillow, the bed beside him started to move. Was someone here with him? He leant over, flicking the lamp back on only to jump out the bed as he saw what, or should he say who, was beside him.

Pansy Parkinson was laying on his pillow in very little clothing. Strike that–she was in no clothing.

‘What are you doing in my bed?’ Adrien said, his voice high pitched and not very Draco at all.

‘I thought you’d like the celebration,’ she replied, her voice oozing with honey, yet right now he was not in the mood for anything sweet. Unless it was Marinette, of course.

He grabbed the nearest t-shirt to him and struggled to get it over his head. ‘Get out of my bed, please?’

She sat up and tilted her head, sheets pooling around her waist and displaying a lot more of her than he wanted to see. ‘Excuse me?’

‘I said, can you please get out of my bed.’

She frowned. ‘Why? You’ve never had a problem before.’

He wiped a hand over his face. This was not what he needed or wanted right now. He wanted to climb into bed, fall asleep and dream about his wonderful girlfriend and what he was going to say when he saw her. It was like waiting for Christmas, knowing exactly what your main present was going to be and wanting morning to come so you could unwrap it.

‘Pansy. Out!’ He used his inner Malfoy to try a harder approach, this time the harshness of his voice finally making an impact. Pansy sat up and pulled the covers over her chest.

‘What’s your problem?’ she huffed, reaching down the side of the bed and finding her dress.

‘My issue is, you’re in my bed without my permission and I want to go to sleep.’

She huffed, swinging her legs out the bed and standing up. He turned away. He did not want to see another girl naked.

‘You’re turning into such a bore, Malfoy. Ever since Granger’s been tutoring you, you’ve become a little pussy.’

‘Pussy?’ Adrien repeated, unsure what that was meant to mean.

‘You heard me.’ Pansy continued placing on her clothing before walking to the staircase in the middle of the room. She started up before stopping and turning to glare at him. ‘FYI, next time you want a booty call, don’t come running to me. We’re done, Malfoy. I’m sick and tired of your games.’ And with that she continued her storming up the staircase and back into the main area of the common room.

Unsure whether he should be happy for himself, or sad for Draco, Adrien decided that would be an issue for another day and instead climbed into Draco’s bed and snuggled beneath the covers. It didn’t matter what anyone thought as long as he had his Marinette, and in a matter of hours they’d finally be back together.

Chapter Text

Draco

Draco had managed to mutter to himself from the moment he returned home that morning, all the way through breakfast and then his walk to the boulangerie to meet Hermione. It was impressive by any standard.

‘Will you shut up?’ Plagg said, looking up at him through the small hole in his bag. Instead of responding, Draco reached down and zipped the zipper all the way across, shutting the kwami out from his view and allowing him to continue his very much needed mutter-a-thon.

A slight noise at his side told him the little, black cat wasn’t giving up that easily. Honestly, he wondered if Hermione would be up for swapping. Plagg was just as annoying as she was—they’d get on wonderfully.

‘You’re going to draw attention to yourself,’ Plagg whispered.

‘My face is plastered all over Paris, I think you can blame the pretty boy for that.’

They’d just made their way into the boulangerie, where surprisingly there were only two other people in there, and from their appearance they must have been around the same age as Adrien and Marinette.

Draco zipped the bag up again and sighed, resting back against the counters and pulling out his phone—well Adrien’s phone. He’d only had a little look through the photos—after a lot of trial and error—and was utterly sickened by what muggles did with the damn things.

He tapped around the screen, pulling up the messages. Most were from Marinette and Nathalie. Then there were a few from Nino, Max, Felix and Luka, plus another couple of names. He selected the ones with Marinette first. If they were going to be faking this relationship he needed to know exactly what the relationship was. Looking at the pictures of the two of them together, Draco was wondering if they’d even made it as far as kissing. They looked awkward, and too naive to get down and dirty with each other. But as he started to read through the messages, maybe he’d been wrong.

‘Not going to greet us this morning, Buttercup.’

Draco glanced up from the phone, coming face to face with the girl from the previous night. The one that had been up and about in the middle of the night, chasing the akuma like a crazy woman.

‘Get much sleep last night?’ he asked her.

She frowned, shifting uncomfortably on the spot. ‘What? Why?’

Draco shrugged, shifted forward to place the phone back in his pocket. He crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow. ‘Oh, I don’t know…maybe the akuma you were chasing?’

‘What?” The guy that was with her stalked his way over and stopped in front of them.

‘Nothing,’ the girl laughed. ‘I have no idea what Adrien’s on about.’

Draco tilted his head. Well, if they were in a relationship this was a little faux pas if he’d ever seen one. One thing in relationships is you keep it truthful, that’s the only way the damn things worked—even he knew that.

‘Yes you do,’ Draco said, unable to stop the corners of his lips turning up.

‘No, I don't!’

‘Yes, you do,’ Draco responded yet again. The poor guy, in the funky red hat, was watching them like some sort of ping pong tournament.

‘I thought we agreed you wouldn’t chase anymore late night akumas. Alya, you said you’d only go after them if Ladybug needed your help.’

Now there was an interesting piece of information. Why would Ladybug need her help when she had him…well, the black cat. If there was one thing Draco was going to do before going back to Hogwarts, it would be to change his name, because seriously ‘Chat Noir’...he may as well have joined the rest of the superheroes out there and just called himself Catboy, or Catman. He could destroy stuff for Pete’s sake, he should have something cool, like The Demolisher. Or Disaster Hand.

Alya turned her head–from who he was guessing was her boyfriend– back to him. ‘Did Marinette tell you?’

He heard a weird coughing and spluttering in his bag, something which sounds an awful lot like ‘secret’.

‘What did I tell him?’ The voice of his nightmares surrounded the boulangerie as the girl in question finally made herself known.

‘Just that—’ He wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he saw Hermione, but it certainly wasn’t what had appeared in front of him. She was wearing a dress! A…dress! Bare legs on show for all to see.

‘Jaw off the floor dude. You’ve been dating for years now, have a little self respect.’

Draco wiped hand over his chin, trying to look like a man in love rather than a man in shock. It wasn’t that she didn’t look good in the dress, because as far as nerds in skirts go, she was okay. It was just the fact she was wearing a dress. A…dress!

She wore skirts at school, but that was just uniform, the same thing everyone else wore. This was her. Well, Marinette. But he couldn’t see Marinette, he just saw Hermione. Oh, man! He was talking himself around in circles.

‘I was saying you tattled on me to your boyfriend about the akuma chasing last night. How could you girl? You know Nino doesn’t like it!’

Hermione looked from Alya to Draco, before noticing the guy beside him. She stared back at Alya before grabbing her arm and pulling her out of the boulangerie and to wherever the back door led.

‘That girl will never learn,’ Nino sighed, turning back to him and smiling. ‘It’s a good job, I love her, right?’

Draco attempted a smile and nod. ‘Yep, exactly.’

‘So how did Marinette know?’

‘Because she was there.’

Nino’s eyes bulged out of his head. ‘Marinette was there? I thought you two had a romantic night planned.’

Secret! A small hissed whisper came from his bag again.

‘I, er, yeah, well, Alya messaged Marinette and she, er, wanted to try and stop her from getting hurt.’

Nino stared at him like he’d grown a second head and he couldn’t blame him, he sounded like a damn fool. ‘Dude, sometimes I swear you two forget that we’re heroes. We can look after ourselves.’

Were they now? That’s interesting! So everyone seemed to know everyone’s identities except himself and Marinette. He needed to check in with Plagg, perhaps make some sort of flowchart about those who do and those who don’t.

The girls continued to talk animatedly at the back of the boulangerie. From the arm movements, Alya was either angry, or attempting to find out the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow.

‘So, are you looking forward to the weekend? Félix has mentioned there’s a lake out the back?’

‘Out the back of where?’ Draco asked, completely confused by this conversation.

‘Dude, this whole forgetting act is ridiculous. Come on, you know exactly where. We’ve been planning this for months.’

‘You’ll have to excuse him, he’s a little tired today.’ Hermione had appeared beside him, wrapping her arms around his. For extra effect, she gave Nino a wink and began to drag Draco out of the building.

‘I bet he is,’ Nino scoffed, following behind them.

They walked to the crosswalk, standing waiting to cross when Hermione did something he didn’t expect, and it almost set him out in front of an oncoming bus. Pushing up into her tiptoes, she closed the gap between them, and pressed her lips to his cheek, lingering just below his ear. ‘We’re going away to the woods for the weekend, act like you’re excited.’

Glaring down at her, he controlled the urge to wipe across his face, removing the lingering dampness from the kiss. This girl was out to torture him!

‘I’ve missed you,’ she mumbled, her voice all sultry and sweet.

Just as he was about to tell her, he most definitely hadn’t missed her, he noticed the stares from both Alya and Nino—watching them. Now would not be the ideal time to ‘come clean’.

‘Missed you too.’ He gazed down at her, attempting to look like a love sick teenager, hoping she was mirroring the gaze. Unfortunately, the look in Hermione’s eyes seemed more like she was going to kick him in the balls than anything else.

‘Come on, Adrien, no need to be shy now.’

Did she want him to do something? Did she want him to kiss her? No way! No! No! No!

‘Adrien!’ she said again.

Everyone was looking at him now, staring, waiting. Oh, man! Leaning down towards her, he was suddenly overwhelmed with the smell of flowers and vanilla. His head swirled from the close proximity, his face being pulled closer and closer towards her. His eyes closed and his lips pouted, his head tilted to close in on her neck. Stopping, Draco changed direction and placed his mouth near her ear, kissing underneath it gently. He felt her tense, her breath catching in a small gasp. A sound that stroked his ego. Inching forward, he pressed a small kiss on her neck before moving away with a smile. The complete opposite to her reaction.

If she was going to put the bludger in his court, she needed to be prepared for it to be sent into the stratosphere. Her mouth hung slightly open, almost as though she couldn’t believe what he just did. But when Draco Malfoy played, he played to win.

‘Get a room,’ Nino shouted across to them. Draco smiled, his eyes remaining firmly locked on Hermione’s. Glad he could shake her so much.

‘Gladly.’

Nino laughed, clamping a hand down on Draco’s shoulder as the cars stopped and allowing them to cross safely.

‘Come on, M’Lady. I don’t want to leave you behind.’ Draco grabbed Hermione’s hand and pulled her forwards, catching her around the waist as she stumbled. She was still shocked. Still gawking at the turn of events, and he couldn’t have thrived in it more.

*

Draco stood facing a rather angry looking girl, Kagami Tsurugi, in the fencing gym. His palms were sweating. The foil felt awkward in his grip, and every muscle seemed to tense, making it difficult to breathe properly. He wasn’t used to the athleticism required for this sport. This was nothing like Quidditch.

He’d never done anything which required such physical strength. Apart from the odd wizard duel, and sessions to burn off stress in the gym, the most exercise he had was flying fast in his seeker training. This was something more, something intense. But there was no way out now. Kagami was staring at him expectantly, her posture perfect and poised. If he didn’t perform, he’d look like an absolute fool.

When his alarm had alerted him to fencing practice, he was relieved to get a break from Hermione, and Adrien’s over enthusiastic friends. To find out they would be spending the weekend together at some cabin out in woods sounded more like a horror film than a fun break away. But then again, he wouldn’t mind spending more time with this wonder in front of him.

Kagami was, quite frankly, unlike anyone Draco had ever encountered. She exuded a calm, composed intensity that he couldn’t help but admire. Her dark hair was tied back neatly, and her sharp gaze locked onto his with a focus that was almost unnerving. And as much as he hated to admit it, there was something about her presence—an undeniable aura of confidence—that made Draco feel self-conscious.

The moment she stepped forward, ready to begin, he couldn’t help but be taken aback. There was an elegance to the way she moved that completely captivated him.

This girl was so different. He couldn’t deny the slight flutter in his chest. Her strength, her beauty, her!

Despite his unease, he raised his foil in a salute, though it felt a little too late. Kagami mirrored the gesture perfectly, before they took their positions.

‘Ready?’ she asked, her voice calm but carrying a quiet challenge.

Draco nodded stiffly. ‘Yeah. Sure.’

With a swift lunge, Kagami advanced. It was so fast—he didn’t have time to react, and the foil came dangerously close to his side. This is insane. How did she move like that? He thought duelling was fast, but this was something else.

He barely managed to step back in time, stumbling slightly as he tried to evade the strike. Kagami’s sharp eyes observed him with an air of patient expectation, her stance unchanged as she watched him, waiting for his next move.

How did she make it look so easy?

Before he could formulate a plan, Kagami advanced again, her movements smooth and decisive. Draco swung his foil wildly in an attempt to block, but Kagami parried effortlessly.

‘Wait—’ He blinked as her foil tapped the tip of his chest lightly, signaling the first point.

‘Focus,’ Kagami’s voice was calm, though there was a hint of encouragement beneath the coolness. ‘Did Marinette keep you up last night again?’

Draco shot her a sheepish look, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. He couldn’t afford for her to ask too many questions, or give her a bad view of him.

‘Yeah,’ he admitted with a wince, praying that it was believable. ‘She wanted to go through some designs.’

Kagami’s eyes softened just a fraction, though her expression remained focused. ‘It’s alright. I know she’s excited about the dance. Just try and give me one decent match so I don’t feel like this is a waste of my afternoon.’

Draco couldn’t stop himself from looking at her, distracted by how effortlessly she moved. There was something about her, something that made everything else seem less important. The way her body flowed as she fought, the elegance in her stance, it was almost mesmerising.

His mind briefly wandered, if only Adrien wasn’t already with Marinette, or if he was meeting her as himself, he would one hundred percent be interested. She was a girl that would keep him on his toes.

Never had he been so drawn in by someone’s presence. Usually, he had the upper hand, the confidence that he could make anyone bend to his will. But with Kagami, something about her left him speechless, almost intimidated, yet strangely enthralled.

She took another step forward, her foil flicking through the air in a blur, and Draco barely had time to react before the tip of her sword gently tapped his shoulder. He groaned internally.

‘Let’s call it a day.’ She took her helmet off, holding it under her arm as she shook her hair out and capturing him under her spell.

He shook his head slightly, trying to snap himself out of his thoughts. But it was hard to ignore. Damn, Adrien. Damn, Marinette. And most of all, damn Hermione.

‘I’ll see you this weekend.’ With that, Kagami turned and strode away. Not even a backwards glance. Damn.

But she’d be there this weekend. He’d get to spend more time with her and see what really made her tick, maybe they could try fencing again…or something else.

Smiling, he made his way into the locker room completely unaware of the person following him.

‘You know, she’s mine now, cousin. You had your chance and blew it.’

Draco turned to see someone almost identical to Adrien standing against the lockers. Arms folded across his chest and a curious smirk on his face.

Standing still, Draco gave him a once over. There was no doubt in his mind that this guy was from London. His whole attire oozed money and wealth, everything he used to have and used to live by.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Finally moving, Draco turned and opened his locker, pulling out his bag and placing it on the bench opposite.

‘I think you do.’ The guy sauntered over, sitting down beside his bag and looking inside it. Draco was almost ready to zip the thing back up, shutting off the view before too much could be deciphered from it.

‘You didn’t pack your usual kit, which means you either forgot about practise or—and this is my personal favourite—you didn’t know about practise, because you’re not Adrien.’

The words took Draco by surprise. He stalled for a second too long before carrying on packing and unpacking his bag.

‘Ding! Ding! Ding! We have a winner.’

Draco closed the bag, sitting down beside it and turning to the guy currently gloating on the opposite side.

‘What do you want?’ Draco hissed, wishing more than ever that he had his wand with him.

The guy smiled. ‘Firstly, you can call me Félix.’

‘Félix,’ Draco repeated.

‘Yep, Félix. I’m Adrien’s cousin. Secondly, leave my girl alone. I won’t be afraid to kick your ass.’

Draco cleared his throat. ‘Noted.’

‘Thirdly, who the hell are you? And where is Adrien?’

It didn’t take Draco too long to decide that Félix was trustworthy. He didn’t know whether it was a British thing or he just needed to vent, but in the next half an hour Draco told Félix everything…and finally, he found he had an ally.

Chapter Text

Hermione

Kagami: Are you free? We need to talk…it’s Adrien!

Marinette: Sure. Do you want me to call you?

Pacing her room, she couldn’t help biting on her thumbnail. Right now her phone felt like a bomb waiting to explode. Kagami was a girl Adrien had dated for a few weeks, one which he seemed quite serious about at one point in time. So, if she was texting Marinette about Adrien, then there was only one person to blame. Malfoy. Kagami was a strong, dominant woman, and she could imagine this kind of girl was right up Malfoy’s alley. Added in the fact they were fencing together, and there was no doubt in her mind that he’d pulled a numbnuts move, like try it on with his cousin's girlfriend.

Dumbledore’s beard! Did this guy have no shame?

Tikki had been following Hermione up and down the room since the pacing had begun. A constant support and one she wasn’t sure she could do this without. Hermione pulled up the text conversation with Adrien again, rereading the twelve messages she’d sent to Malfoy, and reeling from the fact he still hadn’t replied. They’d planned to meet together tonight and examine the cards, hoping it would give them a way back home. However, once again, the idiot she was here with was messing things up.

‘It’ll be okay,’ Tikki said.

Hermione stopped. ‘You’ve met him. Everything he touches turns to shit.’

The phone buzzed in her hands and she almost dropped it as she fumbled to read the incoming message.

Kagami: I’m out with Felix

Kagami: But I wanted you to know, there’s something wrong with Adrien. He was terrible in practise today and I think he was flirting with me

Flirting?

‘I’m going to kill him!’ Hermione hissed, grabbing a jacket and flinging it over her shoulders. If he wasn’t going to come to her and admit to royally screwing up their plan, then she was going to find him and make him tell her.

She ran down the staircase and almost crashed into Marinette’s mother in a haste to go and kick her ‘boyfriend’s’ ass!

‘Sorry, Maman,’ Hermione said, pocketing her phone and wrapping the shorter woman in a hug.

Sabine chuckled, pulling back away from her. ‘It’s fine. What’s got you in such a rush?’

‘I forgot I was meant to meet Adrien thirty minutes ago. He’s just called me to remind me.’

Sabine chuckled. ‘You were too busy with your dress again, weren’t you?’

Hermione gave her a smile. The dress in question was a rather beautiful design on the mannequin in Marinette’s room. The perfect formal wear for a gala, or ball. ‘You know me so well.’ She smiled at Sabine, moving forward and kissing her on the cheek. ‘I’ll see you later.’

Heading towards the doorway, Sabine called her back. ‘Oh, and Marinette?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Don’t forget to let me know if you’re staying over at Adrien’s tonight.’ Nodding, Hermione felt her cheeks grow red. Never had she spoken to her own parents about boys, and especially staying over at a boy’s house…not like this anyway. But not just that, it was the trust Marinette’s mother was giving her that made it all the more wonderful. Her parents had already accepted the fact Adrien was Marinette’s happily ever after, and what’s more, they trusted him with their daughter. It was the exact relationship she had always dreamed about with her own parents.

‘I promise,’ she whispered. Sabine, smiling back, carried on as though it was the most normal thing in the world, and from Marinette’s diary entries, it really was.

The relationship Marinette had with her parents, her boyfriend and her friends were so deep, so intimate she couldn’t help but marvel at the security in them. However, her most honest relationship was with Malfoy. With him it was simple: they hated each other. They hated each other, and they knew how much and why. There was never any pretending.

Time she’d spent with Harry and Ron had always been so weighted in defeating evil and being the outcasts. There was always that thought in the back of her mind, that if they hadn't been put into the same house they wouldn’t have even known each other's names. A friendship formed by proximity, nothing else. Each month that past just made her doubt herself more.

But wasn’t that just a sad way to live. Your most honest, trustworthy relationship was with your bully, your enemy–not with your best friends.

Saying a quick goodbye to Tom on the way out, she rounded the corner and freed Tikki, allowing the kwami to lead her in the direction of Adrien’s house, or from what she could understand, mansion.

It didn’t take longer than fifteen minutes to reach the building. The vast size caused her to slow to a stop as she gawked. There was only one other house which gave her the cold, impressional feeling that she had now, one where Draco Malfoy lived before the end of the war. The Agreste manor was far too similar to the nightmares which hung from her time in the Malfoy Manor.

Her gaze swept over the imposing structure. The grandiose stone walls loomed like a fortress, tall and cold, casting long, dark shadows as the wind whispered through the courtyard. She could feel the chill seeping through her jacket. Her fingers stroked along the cool stone of the manor’s high walls as if anchoring herself to something real.

The manor itself was as uninviting as its surroundings, a perfect reflection of its inhabitant. Every corner of the gothic architecture radiated a sense of isolation, as if the entire building were built to keep warmth—and life—away. The sharp, angular lines of the windows looked more like bars than openings, and the tall, dark doors were ornately carved with symbols that seemed more threatening than decorative. A single, muted light flickered from the upper floors, but it hardly seemed to pierce the thick shadows that draped over the mansion like a heavy blanket.

With one last glance at the manor's towering spires, Hermione hesitated, feeling the weight of something she couldn’t place.

‘Are you okay?’

Hermione nodded, exhaling deeply before moving forward, finding the bell and pressing it.

The welcoming was a little warmer than the building, as she was let into the courtyard and eventually into the main hallway of the manor. However, the inside was just as cold as the outer perimeter, giving a hint of the occupants and their view on life. Malfoy must have thought he was in heaven when he arrived. The hostile environment was just like being back home.

Hermione stood, waiting for Malfoy to come and greet her.

‘I thought I was coming to you.’ His voice was sharp as he headed down the staircase and into the grand hall.

So much for the warm welcome.

‘I had a message from Kagami so I thought I would come and see what’s up.’ She threw him a smile hoping he would catch its real meaning, and from the way his eyes widened, it was clear that he did.

‘Kagami?’ he repeated. ‘That’s interesting.’

‘Oh! It certainly is.’

Malfoy skipped down the stairs, almost missing the last one as he placed a hand on Hermione’s back and began to lead her. He pushed her up the stairs, turning her to the right as they hit the top of the staircase, a large portrait glaring back. Hermione stilled. Her eyes trailing from the top of the portrait to bottom, taking in every little detail of the man and boy. They looked sad. Heartbroken. And so much like Draco and Lucius, her heart pulled.

‘Her–Marinette…are you coming?’

Wrenching her eyes away from the portrait, she turned her attention back to Malfoy, and walked beside him up the staircase, stopping in front of a wide black door. Pushing it open, he encouraged her through first.

Inside the room, a large TV played the evening news, as lamps lit up the corners. The room was vast, large, much too spacious for one person, one teenager to live in. Slowly, she turned around. Games, books, a computer, a bed. Everything you would find in a bedroom but to the nth degree. The soft click of the door behind her, alerted her to the presence of someone else in the room.

‘Disgusting, isn’t it?’ Malfoy said, walking past her and collapsing onto the couch.

‘I don’t know,’ Hermione said, folding her arms over her chest and glancing over at the piano. ‘It’s quite the bedroom. Any muggle would love to have a room like this.’

Malfoy scoffed, grabbing the remote and silencing the TV. ‘They’re more than welcome to it. So, tell me Miss Granger, why are you here?’

‘Simple,’ she said, making her way to see on the opposite end of the sofa. ‘I wanted to come and torment you from being such a dickwad this afternoon.’

‘Dickwad?’ he repeated. ‘Wow, your insults are improving day by day. Have you been watching YouTube again? Trying to find some new words for your vocabulary.’

‘You wish you had my vocabulary.’

He pursed his lips and shook his head. ‘Nope. No. I really don’t.’

Rolling her eyes, she took a deep breath, counted backwards from ten, and tried again. Yeah, that wasn’t working. ‘I’m here because you decided now would be the ideal time to flirt with your ex-girlfriend and your cousin’s current girlfriend.’

He snorted, leaning forward and grabbing his glass of water. ‘Yeah, well, he made sure I wouldn’t be doing that again.’

She glared at him as he drank, not a care in the world for what he might have done.

‘Sorry, did you want something?’ He pointed the empty glass at her only for her to swipe him away.

Hermione began to wander around the room. Her eyes honed in on a photograph sitting next to the bed. One of Adrien and Marinette, one very similar to the one she had beside her bed in Marinette’s room. They were completely in love. Two souls that had found each other against all odds. She always prayed she’d find love like that, love like her parents had. She thought she’d had it with Ron, everything seemed to work. They got along and it was comfortable…but that was all it was. A security blanket. It wasn’t the fire she’d read about in Marinette’s diary, the fire linked to her relationship with Adrien…and with Chat Noir.

‘How are you both doing?’

Hermione turned back to see Plagg and Tikki flying near Malfoy. Plagg was feasting on a prism of something whilst Tikki seemed to be studying Malfoy.

‘Surviving,’ Malfoy said, this time reaching forward and grabbing a chocolate of some kind from his tray. He threw it in the air, catching it unceremoniously in his mouth. Was it wrong for her to wish he had choked on it?

‘Do you have any news, Plagg?’ Hermione asked, heading back in the direction of the others.

Plagg looped around, settling on the pillow in between the two of them. ‘The akuma is still out there, which is why you still have the cards.’

‘I thought the cards came from Ladybug,’ Malfoy asked.

Tikki nodded. ‘They were, but as the akuma is still out there, the cards are still active.’

Hermione thought it through, though it didn’t seem to make sense. ‘I don’t understand. How can it still be active if I’m not in the suit?’

‘Magic works in mysterious ways.’

‘You’re telling me,’ Malfoy scoffed, reaching for another chocolate. He could at least have the courtesy to share.

He popped it into his mouth and then reached forward again. There was only one left and there was no way she was letting him have the satisfaction. Diving forwards, at the same moment as he stretched out, they collided, Hermione’s speed knocking Malfoy off balance and off the sofa. They tumbled, Hermione squealing loudly as they fell in a heap on the floor. A gasp of air fired from the boy beneath her, like his lungs had just been emptied. Her hands found purchase on either side of his head as she pushed herself up, bodies still connected and the most annoying smirk she’d ever seen on his face.

‘I knew you always wanted to get on top of me, Granger,’ he said, every ounce of smugness coming out with his words.

‘Actually,’ she said, reaching to his hand that was currently above his head. ‘I wanted this.’ She yanked open his hand and grabbed the chocolate from inside it, popping it into her mouth–Malfoy germs and all.

‘When you two have finished this weird mating ritual, we’d like to get back to discussing things with you.’ Plagg hovered over them, Hermione feeling her cheeks heat up with embarrassment as she scrambled off him and sat back on her knees. A slither of his bare stomach was on show, and she couldn’t help staring at it a moment longer than what would be seen as socially acceptable. Did he have abs?

‘Seriously, we have enough of Adrien and Marinette doing some weird things, at least give us a little break.’

Malfoy pushed up onto his forearms, one brow raised. ‘I guess they’re into freaky shit then? More props to them.’

‘Shut up, Malfoy.’ Grasping the edge of the sofa, Hermione pulled herself back onto it, sitting back and attempting to take the attention away from her overheated cheeks. ‘Anyway, what were you saying?’

Moving on from their impromptu wrestling match, Hermione waited for Tikki to continue. ‘Well, we think the butterfly holder is waiting to see if there’s any effect on Ladybug and Chat Noir, and considering you’ve both been out and about since the attack, we don’t think she suspects anything’s different.’

‘However, that does mean a lot of people still haven’t returned from wherever they were blasted to,’ Plagg interjected, indicating the TV and the latest news report.

‘So, they haven’t swapped with other people?’ Malfoy asked.

Plagg shook his head. ‘It doesn’t seem so, which makes us think it has something to do with those cards.’

Hermione dropped onto her knees beside the table, studying the cards laid out over it. They seemed like normal playing cards. Nothing out of the ordinary, and definitely not Exploding Snap. She was good at riddles, she did many of them in her spare time. But this one had her stumped.

‘What’s the next step then? Lure them out? Set a trap or something?’ Malfoy moved to sit beside her, her cheeks automatically blushing as the vision of Malfoy’s abs, once again, shot into her mind.

She coughed, clearing her throat ready to answer. ‘That’s actually not a bad idea.’

‘Bloody hell, she agrees with me. Hell must have frozen over.’

‘Let's just get out of here, and go and search.’

Malfoy stood up, mocking her with a bow. ‘Whatever you say, M’Lady.’

‘See,’ Plagg said. ‘He’s getting it.’

Calling on their transformations, Ladybug and Chat Noir launched themselves out of the Agreste manor and up onto the rooftops of Paris, running in the direction of the Eiffel Tower.

‘I’m thinking of changing my name,’ Chat Noir said, vaulting from one rooftop to the next.

Ladybug swung beside him, perfectly in time with his movements. ‘Oh, yeah? What to?’

‘I was thinking of something a little more dangerous, something like Shadowstrike, or Midnight Pounce.’

Ladybug snorted. ‘Midnight Pounce? Really? You sound like a cocktail at the Hogs Head.’

‘You laugh now, but it would most definitely cat-ch on.’

‘A pun? Really?’

‘Best way to joke. You should try it once in a while, it’ll–’

The conversation was interrupted as a bolt of purple light shot up into the sky, lighting it up and creating shadows like Dementors across the ceiling of Paris.

‘Come out, come out, wherever you are.’ A voice echoed over the rooftops, as another bolt was fired up, this time warping the sky into something supernatural, playing with the clouds as though they were puppets. Illusions. Twisted reality.

Chat Noir moved over to the edge, peeking over the side for any possible indication of where the akuma was.

‘Can you see anything?’ Ladybug whispered. Surprisingly, the only feeling she had at the moment was curiosity. No fear was evident, just the adrenaline rush of preparing to battle.

A shadow shot up into the sky, crackling purple energy shooting from around it and glowing purple eyes. There was no doubt in her mind that this was the akuma they were after.

The air grew thick with the scent of ozone as more bolts of purple lightning tore through the sky. Ladybug’s yo-yo flew through the air, narrowly missing the shadowed figure, who cackled maniacally as the city around them shifted, the clouds twisting in unnatural patterns.

Chat Noir became a blur of motion, darting and flipping through the chaos, trying to get closer to the akuma, but its energy was unlike anything he’d ever seen before. He darted around in and out of the distorted glow of energy.

But it wasn’t enough to stop the attacks. It suddenly turned its attention to her. Ladybug gasped, barely managing to dodge another blast of light.

Then, it struck again.

Before she could react, the akuma’s next strike hurled a shockwave toward her, a purple mist clouding around them. In a split-second decision, Chat Noir pushed himself between her and the blast. The air around them rippled, the impact from the shockwave sending him stumbling backward. His body collided with the ground, the force of it knocking the wind out of him.

‘Chat Noir!’ Ladybug cried out, panic surging through her as she rushed toward him, her heart pounding in her chest. She knelt beside him, her hands trembling as she helped him sit up. Why had he done that? Why had he put himself in harm's way for her?

‘Are you alright?’ she asked, her voice tight with concern. Her eyes scanned him frantically, checking for injuries. Her mind was still trying to make sense of what happened… And why she was suddenly so worried about Malfoy’s welfare.

He winced, a hand to his side. ‘I’m fine,’ he muttered through gritted teeth, though his face was pale. ‘It’s nothing. Just a scratch.’

She shot him a glare, her lips pressed into a tight line. ‘You shouldn’t have done that! What were you thinking? You could’ve been seriously hurt!’

He rolled his eyes, trying to wave off her concern. ‘Apparently, it’s my job, Granger. If I hadn’t done it, people would have started asking questions.’

Of course. It was his job–nothing else. So, why did that response make her feel so flat? And more so, why did she even care?

‘Kitty, you can’t just—’ she started, but her words faltered when she noticed the way his gaze softened. The tension between them eased just slightly.

‘Kitty? Now there’s a new name I could go by.’ His smile was contagious. Her own lips joined in with ease as she slammed a hand on his shoulder, causing him to wince a little–a response which both thrilled her and worried her.

For a moment, neither of them spoke, and she felt the unspoken words hanging between them.

Finally, she let out a quiet sigh and helped him to his feet. ‘Well... thank you,’ she said, her voice softer than before.

He gave her a faint smile, the corner of his mouth lifting just a little. ‘You're welcome, Granger.’

Standing on the rooftop, the sky was no longer purple or clouded. Instead, it was clear, giving them a clear view of rooftops beyond. ‘It’s gone,’ Ladybug said, looking out into the distance.

And although that should have been her main worry, the fact her arch nemesis saved her was all she could think about. She glanced up at him. His tall physique set perfectly against the Eiffel Tower, jaw clenched and angled to a degree she’d never noticed before. His eyes were haunted by stories she didn’t know yet and had suddenly wanted to find out. Longing, hurt, anger.

The more time she spent alongside Draco Malfoy, the more he became an enigma to break. And one thing about Hermione Granger, was that she never gave up a challenge.

Chapter Text

Marinette

Marinette had searched for him everywhere.

The Quidditch pitch. The Great Hall. Roaming the corridors. But it had been pointless. As soon as Slytherin House had made it onto the pitch they’d taken Adrien and led him away like a King on a Throne, and most likely back to their common room.

Adrien. Her Adrien was here. Here. In Hogwarts. Which could only mean one thing…Adrien had to be Chat Noir. Her trusted partner. Her biggest supporter. The boy who knew her in ways no one else could. Her Kitty.

When she saw him flying on a broomstick, so confident and at ease, she fell in love with him all over again. It was impossible not to. He was perfect.

She let out a sigh.

Adrien was here…but not as Adrien.

He was Draco Malfoy. Nefarious Slytherin who was only back in Hogwarts because he wanted to continue to terrorise those opposing the Dark Lord. Draco who had bullied Hermione for years and years. Malfoy, who she was tutoring and had split Hermione and her boyfriend up. There was so much spinning around her mind, that when Ginny had led her back to the Gryffindor common room she’d excused herself, sticking with the ‘woman’s problems’ as an excuse and went to bed. She’d remained awake for hours, staring at the ceiling and wondering what Adrien was doing right now.

Was he thinking about her the same way she was thinking about him?

Was he celebrating? She’d heard Malfoy was quite the ladies’ man with the Slytherin girls. Was he enjoying a victory ‘dance’ with one of them?

Her stomach was churning. Flip Flopping with the possibilities that another girl might be with him now. Touching him. Kissing him. She hated it, even though she knew Adrien was loyal and kind. Draco had a reputation.

Ron and Harry had both been to see her, checking that she was okay, both times she faked being asleep. All she wanted was for this night to end, and tomorrow to begin. She needed to see Adrien, she needed to be with her partner.

The nervousness and anxiety was suddenly joined by a fizz of happiness and a dash of excitement. Adrien. Her Adrien. Tomorrow she would be reunited with him and regardless of how long they would be here it would be okay now, because she had her partner. Her best friend.

Yes, morning couldn’t come quick enough and regardless of Hermione’s relationship with Draco, Marinette was definitely getting her man back.

*

The morning so far had been a flop. She’d fallen asleep, finally, just before dawn, which meant she’d rushed to get ready, heading down to breakfast looking well and truly unkempt. The Great Hall was empty. Only a couple of dozen students remained there. Grabbing a couple of pastries, she made her way towards her first lesson of the day, praying she’d be there on time and not get stranded on one of the complex staircases.

It only took a couple of wrong turns until Harry found her, roaming the halls aimlessly. He led her down another corridor, one lined with past Hogwarts Headmasters, before opening the door to the Defense the Dark Arts classroom–just as the professor took to his spot at the front. ‘Miss Granger, it’s so nice of you to finally join us.’

Snickering was heard from a couple of the Slytherins in the back row, the entire class turned around to stare at her.

She scanned the room. ‘Sorry,’ she stuttered, moving forward with Harry beside her.

A couple rows from the front, her steps slowed. He was here. Adrien was here. Three rows from the front and looking devilishly handsome in the green and grey uniform. She froze. Standing in front of his desk, and staring at him. Fully taking him in and basking in his glow, the glow only Adrien could emit. She felt herself truly smile for the first time in a day. He looked at her, the faintest smile playing on his lips, one she knew was meant for her. She wanted nothing more than to slide into the desk beside him. To wrap her arms around his and rest her head on his shoulder. To kiss him. To hug him. To be with him.

‘Miss Granger!’ The professor’s stern tone almost had her skeleton leaving her skin. ‘Any time today would be helpful!’

‘Sorry,’ she muttered again. She tore her attention from Adrien and continued down where two seats were left. One beside Blaise Zabini, a tall athletic Slytherin, and Ron. Harry pushed past her, taking the seat next to Blaise and leaving her to sit next to Ron.

Great!

‘We need to talk,’ Ron whispered, moving in a little too closely. No, they really didn’t! Hermione had broken up with him for a reason and right now all she could think about was Adrien. Adrien who was watching Ron move in close, too close.

‘Not now,’ she said back, her voice low. She moved over, away from Ron as she tried to listen to the lesson.

‘Bloody hell, Hermione. Then when?’ Ron said, his voice raising and causing Harry to glare over his shoulder. He placed a finger to his lips, eyes widening.

He turned back. Yet, Ron had been everything but deterred by the fierce gaze. His mouth opened, ready to question her again.

‘Mr Weasley! Keep your drama out of my classroom.’

Ron turned a wonderful shade of beetroot, scooting down in his chair and trying to disappear.

‘Sorry, Professor.’ The stutter was audible around the room causing an influx of laughter from the Slytherins.

‘That’s it!’ Their professor announced. ‘Weasley! Swap places with Malfoy. I’m about done with this drama.’

Marinette could have cried. Someone, somewhere was looking out for her, and as Adrien slid into the seat beside her, she had to cover her mouth to hide the smile. She placed her other hand beside her, her little finger brushing something warm, and soft. She felt movement. Something rubbing against it, before hooking tightly onto hers, joining them together and putting her heart at ease for what felt like the first time in forever.

‘Today, it’s time to put your skills to good use. Come with me.’ The Professor walked towards the door, everyone standing up and following after him, but she wanted a moment, just one moment, with Adrien.

‘Are you okay?’ His voice was like balm over an injury. Soothing and wonderful.

‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘You?’

‘Much better now.’ She turned to look at him, the smile stretching across his face in the most adorable way.

Just as she tried to respond, the sound of pounding feet came with each and every thud in her heart.

‘This is your fault, you wanker. You’ve turned her against me.’

Adrien held his hands in the air, surrendering to Ron’s anger, her hand instantly feeling cold from the lack of contact.

‘Have you got nothing to say for yourself? Have you bewitched her or something?’

‘Ron, calm down.’ Harry appeared behind him. One hand placed on his shoulder, a hand that was instantly pushed off.

‘Calm down. Don’t tell me to bloody calm down. She’s with him again,’ Ron spat out.

‘She has a name,’ Adrien replied and Marinette could tell he was in defense mode. The mode she’d seen activated with the power of a kwami and without.

‘Don’t you speak to me that way. Since she’s been tutoring you, she’s changed. You’ve changed her into a girl we don’t know anymore.’

‘Ron, come on.’ Harry gave him another tug, pulling him back away from them. Ron stumbled, a finger rising and pointing directly at Adrien.

‘You need to watch it, Malfoy. She’s mine and I won’t go down without a fight.’ The door closed behind them, leaving Marinette alone with Adrien, both startled from Ron’s outburst.

‘I think I was just threatened.’ Adrien chuckled, his hand reaching the back of his neck and rubbing hard.

Marinette chuckled, turning to him and wrapping her arms around his neck. ‘I am so happy to see you.’

He buried his face into her neck, her whole body igniting from his touch. Two days and she’d missed him more than anything, or anyone. This is where she belonged, safe and sound in his arms.

‘I’m happy to see you too. We have a lot to talk about.’ He stepped back and took her hand. ‘But right now, I suppose we need to follow the others. It seems Draco and Hermione have quite a number of issues going on already.’

Pulling her towards the door, her feet stumbled to move with him. He froze, his hand hovering over the doorknob. He glanced at her, love and longing in his eyes, before bringing their joined hands together and pressing a soft, gentle kiss to her knuckles. He let go, and her heart followed with it.

‘Until later,’ he whispered, opening the door and placing a hand on her lower back, guiding her out of the room and towards the crowd. When he finally removed it, she felt the cold hit her with force. The coldness from losing the touch of her boyfriend, from losing Adrien.

They continued to walk, Adrien slightly behind as they headed outside of the castle and into the grounds. The grass was still upturned, and crater holes embedded in the form of rocks and spells from the Great War almost a year ago. The group had stopped in front of something that looked like a maze. Thick hedges towering high into the sky and an ominous entrance in front of them. A shadow towered over her, stretching further than hers with the tails of robes fluttering at the sides from the gentle breeze. It looked almost as though he was flying. The angel of her dreams.

‘Now, a few duels are nothing more than child’s play to most of you these days,’ their Professor began, looking between them, his wand at the ready. ‘But just because we’ve been through one war doesn’t mean others would never be on the horizon. Probably not as long or as destructive, but still there. So, it’s time to put your skills into good use, and work on your quick thinking. You are all my top defense students so nothing in there should be out of the ordinary…or difficult to control.’

Marinette tightened her hand around her wand, praying something from Hermione’s memories might shoot back and help her. She’d hadn’t a clue, and from the shuffling of feet behind her, neither had Adrien. They were doomed. The only thing going for them was their natural and impressive ability to work together as a team.

‘You will enter two minutes after the pair before you, and no, Longbottom, you won’t be able to choose your partner.’

Neville kicked a stone in front of him. It rolled forward and hit a second rock, sending it up into the air and narrowly missing their Professor’s head. ‘Ten points from Gryffindor!’

The sound of snickering Slytherins echoed through the air as Neville made a fast apology to the professor.

Coughing, all attention back on him, the Professor continuing to speak. ‘You will work with your table partner.’

A sound similar to grinding teeth sounded in front of them, Marinette catching Ron’s eye as he turned around and glared. Adrien stepped forward, lowering his head to her level before speaking. ‘I don’t know about magical creatures, I’m more worried he’s going to turn me into a pineapple.’

‘A pineapple?’ Marinette couldn’t stop the giggle which only seemed to infuriate Ron more as he narrowed his eyes into small murderous slits. She coughed, placing a hand to her mouth.

‘Harry. Blaise. You two go first.’

Pair by pair, they were sent into the maze. Ron hovering in front of herself and Adrien as though not willing to let them out of his sight. Finally though, they were free from scrutiny as Ron and Theo entered, leaving Adrien and Marinette alone.

‘How do you think we’re going to do?’ Adrien asked. His lips were placed in his normal model smile, yet his eyes showed the same anxiety as she felt. They had no way of getting through this thing without some sort of plan.

‘Awfully,’ she muttered, gripping her wand tighter. ‘I have literally failed at everything I have tried to do so far. How about you?’

‘Same,’ Adrien chuckled. ‘I might have caused some damage to the potions classroom yesterday. Stuck a few chairs to the floor.’

Marinette laughed. ‘That was you? Everyone was talking about it.’

‘I do like a bit of destruction,’ he laughed and she moved closer, needing to bask in his strength.

‘Malfoy. Granger. Go!’ The Professor sent sparks up into the air.

Adrien held his fist out. ‘Let’s do it, M’Lady.’

Marinette pounded her own against his. ‘We’ve got it, Kitty.’

They made their way inside. The green hedges almost touched the sky. She felt so small and so insignificant inside the maze, the same feelings she had when she was lost inside her own thoughts. The endless blocks, unable to let her see past the problems and to the solutions. The darkness which fell over her as she thought too deeply and irrationally. She shivered. The foreboding was too strong, too worrisome, that everything inside her began to shake.

‘Hey, are you okay?’ Adrien’s hand reached out and slid into hers. The cold fear and anxiety warmed as his thumb caressed the back of her hand.

‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘Just taking everything in.’

‘Is that about this…or me?’

She gazed up at him, his jaw tight with tension. Was he worrying she wasn’t happy about him being Chat Noir?

‘No, no, no! Not you at all!’ Marinette said. ‘You being Chat Noir is the most wonderful thing. It just…works. We work! I just have this feeling of dread, like something’s about to go wrong.’

They rounded the corner, the maze swallowing them in turning from agriculture to hard, misplaced rock. It became a dark and foreboding labyrinth with high, thick stone walls that twisted and turned in confusing, unpredictable patterns. The air was damp, and the faint scent of moss and ancient wood clung to the stone, as though the walls had been standing for centuries.

Ethereal lanterns flickered in and out of existence as they advanced forward, casting eerie shadows on the ground. The uneven floor caught her out, tripping her up and into Adrien’s arms.

‘I’ve got you,’ he whispered, pressing a soft, gentle kiss to the top of her head, one that seeped into her body and caressed down her spine. He straightened her up, making sure she was sturdy on her feet before continuing. ‘Let’s go.’

They continued to move, the walls seeming to close in, pressing them to move quicker. The maze seemed to stretch on endlessly, with identical doorways and hallways repeating, making it nearly impossible to determine the right path without careful attention. They hadn’t crossed the path of any creatures yet which was both a relief, but also unnerving.

A scream sounded somewhere in the maze, Marinette huddling closer to Adrien.

‘Let’s talk about something, try and keep our minds distracted.’ Adrien threaded his fingers through hers. One hand joined for strength, the other on a wand she had no idea how to use.

‘What did you want to talk about?’

Adrien shrugged. ‘How about this place? Insane, isn’t it?’

‘Definitely. I saw a door yesterday, which appeared out of nowhere. Like the castle was trying to show me a hidden room.’

‘Did you go in?’

Marinette shook her head. ‘No, it had vanished by the time I moved to it.’

‘Do you think they’re us? Draco and Hermione? Do you think they’re back in Paris?’

She stopped abruptly, almost pulling Adrien over. ‘I didn’t until now! Oh, no! They don’t like each other and we’re in love and they won't be in love and everyone will know and–’ oh goodness, she was hyperventilating.

‘Calm down, Marinette. It’s okay. Look at me. Please, Mari. Look at me.’ Adrien was in front of her, his hands on her shoulders steadying her in a way that made her see his black mask around his green eyes. ‘We’ll figure out how to get home and we’ll just tell the truth. We’re in this together. We have nothing to worry about.’

Yet, as they moved deeper into the maze, her worry grew. Unease settled over her like an old woollen blanket. Itchy and insufferable.

A mist began to descend around the corner, wrapping around their legs in finger-like strokes, holding them with an unseen force and control. It pulled, urging them around the corner. Their fingers slipped apart, her anchor disappearing as they moved. The mist cleared and nothing could have prepared her for what was ahead.

The breath caught in her throat. No! No! It couldn’t be…it couldn’t.

She turned, her eyes searching Adrien’s for some sort of reaction, yet all she could see was cold, harsh hurt. Whatever was in front of her was showing nothing more than her nightmares. Gabriel Agreste stood before them. Tall and lean, his height challenging the walls of the maze.

‘Adrien?’ she asked. He was still. Nothing more than the moving of his chest and the blink of his eyes.

But then she saw it. The thing that had played on her mind for the better (or worst) part of two years. Gabriel morphed into Monarch, standing smug and demanding. ‘Does my son know the lies you’ve told him? Lies about who you are, Marinette? Lies about what happened? Does he know I’m not a hero, that I’m Monarch.’

‘Marinette?’ Adrien’s voice quivered as he spoke. ‘What…what does he mean?’

‘I-I…’ Tears escaped, running down her cheeks in a silent plea for this all to stop.

‘Tell him the truth, Marinette. How even Ladybug couldn’t win this war. Instead how you crumbled beneath me, how you lost. How I am nothing more than a villain who defeated the great Ladybug and Chat Noir!’ Monarch laughed, deep and menacingly. ‘And you told him I helped! You made me into the hero I wasn't, lying to the boy you claim to love.’

She took her attention from Monarch, and whatever this thing was, and shook her head. This was not how Adrien was meant to find out, Adrien was never meant to know.

‘Adrien, I…’

Marinette was interrupted. Another figure stood beside Monarch, an exact replica of herself. ‘Adrien,’ she said. ‘You’re nothing.’

The harsh words gave her another kick. Adrien’s eyes remained void of any light, any love, anything. He blinked a cascade of tears falling down his usually perfect cheeks. His lips quivered, barely able to contain the hurt he was feeling.

‘Your father was always right,’ the new Marinette said. ‘Without the modelling, there’s nothing about you. Nobody wants to love an orphan. We’re done. I don’t love you, and I never have. You have nothing for me now. You are nothing.’

‘Adrien! You know that’s not true,’ Marinette said, stepping in front of him and turning her back on the visions. ‘I love you. I love you so, so much!’

‘Of course she would say that,’ Monarch said. ‘She wants nothing more than our fame and fortune. She feels sorry for you and knows how easy you are to manipulate. I was doing it for long enough, myself.’

‘Is it true?’ Adrien whispered, taking a step back.

‘No,’ Marinette sobbed, stepping with him, trying to keep him as close as possible. ‘Of course it’s not true.’

Adrien shook his head. ‘How can you lie to someone you love?’

He moved again, this time rounding the corner and away from the nightmare they’d just landed in.

She chased after him. ‘He didn’t want you to know. I didn’t want you to hate him. I’m so sorry, Adrien. I should have said something, but there was never a chance.’

Adrien held his hands up, and this time when he blinked the greens in his eyes had turned lethal, dangerous, cold. Nothing like the Adrien she knew or loved. ‘Never had a chance?’ he laughed. His voice was coated with sarcasm and distrust. ‘Two years, Marinette! We’ve been dating for two years and at no point did you think you could tell me? I thought we trusted each other.’

‘Adrien! Please.’ Marinette dropped to her knees in front of him, her legs giving way to the weight of everything she had been holding. The fall out was harder than she thought it could be. Hurting more than anything she’d ever felt before.

‘Please, what, Marinette? Please allow you to continue to make a fool out of me, to treat me like an absolute idiot.’

‘I didn’t…that’s not why…Adrien…I’m sorry.’

He shook his head, his mind made up. ‘You’re sorry? Sorry for what? Lying to me? Deceiving me? Treating me like an idiot? Not trusting me?’

‘I didn’t want to hurt you,’ she sobbed, her heart clenching so tightly she could barely breathe. She was losing him, he was slipping through her fingers and taking her heart with him, shattering it into tiny fragments she could never repair. Adrien was her one and only, and now…if he walked away she would have nothing.

He huffed and turned, this was it. Everything inside her grew black with despair. ‘Adrien, please don’t go. Talk to me! Please.’ She was sobbing, screaming at him, wanting to make him hear.

Stopping, he glared back over his shoulder. Hard eyes killing her soul. ‘If this is how you treat people you love, I would hate to think what you’d do to those you don’t.’

Without waiting for a reply, he stalked away. Out of the maze, and, seemingly, out of her life.

Chapter Text

Adrien

Adrien had never felt anger like this before. An anger so blinding all he could see was red, and every feeling was numbed to nothing but a faded memory. She had lied to him. Marinette, Ladybug, had lied to him. Sounds of muffled screams attempted to break through to him, to make him hear and understand, but as far as he was concerned, he had nothing to say to anyone, especially Marinette.

Your father helped! Your father was a hero! You should be proud of him! Lie after lie, after lie.

It had been two years. He had been living with Nathalie for two years. He’d been dating Marinette for two years. He’d been living a lie for two years. Worst of all, if Marinette knew, did that mean Nathalie did too? Had she also been in on this? Been in on all this fakeness. He knew the answer to that question, and it hurt. Nathalie and his father had been inseparable, before and after his mother’s death.

Adrien continued to storm out of the maze, ignoring the calls for him to come back. To talk. Why would he want to talk? There was nothing he wanted to say. Not yet anyway. His mind was scrambled, swirling with possibilities.

My father was Monarch! He’d been fighting his own father for years. He’d cataclysmed his own father, sending on the path to a slow and painful death.

‘Draco, stop!’

She just wasn’t giving up, even using his fake name in front of everyone like that was going to make a difference.

‘Please, stop!’ Hands wrapped around his arm, trying to restrict him, stopping him from moving on, but if he didn’t go soon he was going to say something he regretted.

‘Malfoy? What happened?’ Harry appeared out of the maze, Blaise being dragged behind him looking as though he’d just encountered a hungry lion.

‘I don’t want to talk about it.’ Adrien watched as Harry placed an arm around Marinette’s shoulders helping her up. If only he knew the truth of the deceit.

Harry stepped forward, one arm still around her. ‘I’m sure we can–’

‘Just stay out of it,’ Adrien shouted, his eyes glaring into Harry’s and daring him to make the next move. From behind him, Ron came charging out of the maze, wand lifted and pointing straight at him. He could do what he wished, because as far as Adrien was concerned, nothing could be worse than how he was feeling at the moment. The utter betrayal and pain was excruciating.

‘What’s happening?’ Ron said, moving over to Hermione and Harry.

‘Nothing that concerns you,’ Adrien said, turning to walk away again.

‘Please,’ Marinette pleaded, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care about her, or anything at the moment.

‘Please, what?’ Feeling the fury fire inside him, he exploded, the words he would usually speak, instead coming out as a shout. ‘Just stop messing around with people's lives. They think I’m the crazy one, but you’re just insane.’

‘Cut it out, mate.’ Ron moved forward, coming face to face with Adrien. And although Ron was tall, Adrien still had a good couple of inches on him. Ron reached out, a hand gripping his arm and holding him in position.

‘I’m not, and will never be your mate.’ Yanking his arm away from Ron, Adrien moved closer to Marinette, looking her dead in the eye. ‘Stay away from me.’

‘No!’ she sobbed, and for the first time in his life, he didn’t care. ‘Please, don’t leave me. Don’t go. We can talk about this. Please, Kitty.’

Even the nickname did nothing. And as he turned and walked away, there wasn’t even the slightest feeling of guilt.

Ron moved again, running around him and blocking his way. But this time, it was Adrien who lifted his wand–pointing it straight into Ron’s face. ‘Get out of my way, Weasley.’

‘Bloody hell, Malfoy, have a little respect.’

‘Respect!’ Adrien couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Respect is a two way streak. You can have her. She’s not worth another moment of my time.’

Ron watched him, obviously debating what to do. Adrien held the wand steady in front of him, still unsure what the threat is that he’s actually making. Eventually, Ron nodded, stepping back and letting Adrien go. Where to? He had no idea.

After roaming the castle, Adrien found himself heading into the library. He stood at the threshold, taking in the sight before him. He had heard about the restoration, but standing here, surrounded by rows upon rows of towering bookshelves, it was something else entirely. It wasn’t just a place to read; it felt like a memory itself—an echo of a time lost and then painstakingly restored. He stepped in slowly, as if afraid the silence might swallow him whole.

The walls, once scarred by the war, now gleamed with polished stone. Yet, there were the plaques. His gaze lingered on them—memorials for those who’d sacrificed everything. People who had fought and died, their names carved into the stone like a promise to never forget.

The library’s silence was different from the silence of his father’s house. Here, it wasn’t a cold, isolating quiet. It was full of weight, of history—of grief, yes, but also of healing. He wandered through the aisles, his fingers brushing against the edges of the spines. Every book here had a story, and every person who had passed through these halls had a story, too. It was hard to shake the thought that some of those were still unfinished, suspended in time.

His heart ached for the lives lost, for the innocence stolen. But as he stood there, under the tall, luminous windows that bathed everything in warm, soft light, he couldn’t help but feel that this was a room where even loss had its place in the greater story—a place where it could be remembered, but not forgotten. A place that carried both the weight of the past and the promise of the future.

As he headed down the aisles, students moved out of his way, fearing his determined walk to the back. Younger students cowered behind bookcases and under tables. He knew he must look scary. His face was aching from so much tension. The tightness of his teeth clamping together at the back of his jaw, and the pain in his shoulders from holding his position.

He carried on marching through, heading to the back of the library, finding a quiet place to cool off and think. The crowds thinned and the books became more and more dusty, the perfect place to hide out for a few hours.

Happy with his current residence, he pulled out a chair and sat on it, rocking backwards and forwards with his head in his hands. How could she do this? How could she play him like this for so long? As Ladybug and as Marinette. It was a double deception, each of them knowing exactly what they were doing. Nathalie too. Every single person he loved was in on it. Lying to him, and acting like they actually cared. But they didn’t. This was evident from the way he’d been pushed to one side.

‘Hmm, it says here that the Merpeople are starting to take anyone who steps foot near their waters… isn't that curious? I wonder if it’s because they’re protecting their territory. Or perhaps they’ve started a new form of... aquatic diplomacy? They’ve always been rather elusive, haven’t they? Oh, and did you know the Black Lake is said to have hidden tunnels beneath it? I’ve heard the Merpeople sometimes use them as passageways, though no one’s really certain where they lead. I’d like to explore them one day... but I suppose I'd have to be careful not to disturb the creatures. They’re quite sensitive, you know.’

Adrien gazed up from where his head was buried in his hands and looked at a girl in the corner. Blonde hair, and quirky glasses. She tilted her head to one side, pausing, before staring at the article for a moment longer before continuing. ‘I suppose it’s a bit like how people sometimes misunderstand Thestrals. Not that they’re exactly the same... but there’s something rather beautiful in the way they carry themselves, don't you think?’

She smiled, standing up and moving to sit opposite him at the table. Placing the newspaper down, she leaned forwards her head doing that strange tilt again.

‘Did you know Merpeople can sing in a language that’s only understood by the lake itself? I’ve always thought it would be fascinating to hear... but I suppose one would have to be very careful not to get too close. They are very protective of their waters, after all.’

He studied her more closely. She was unlike anyone he’d seen before. Sticking a hand across the table, she offered it out to him. ‘Luna Lovegood, but you can just call me Luna. And you are?’

‘Er, Draco Malfoy?’

She tilted her head in the other direction, coming to stare at him for a long moment before speaking. She shook her head. ‘Nope. Same pain, but not the same name.’

Adrien’s fingers twitched involuntarily as he stood there, facing Luna, her large, silvery eyes scanning him with unnerving precision.

He shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, and for a moment, it felt as if the weight of her stare was piercing straight through the skin he was wearing. He forced himself to keep his voice steady, masking the unease creeping up his spine. ‘What are you talking about, Lovegood?’ His words came out too sharp, too clipped, not like the usual drawl. There was a flicker of something in her eyes—something like knowing.

The air between them thickened. But Luna only tilted her head again, her expression unreadable. ‘Oh, I know it’s not you in there.’ Her tone was casual, like she was talking about the weather. ‘You’re not really Draco, are you?’

His heart skipped a beat, a ripple of panic running through him. He could feel his jaw tighten, a reaction he knew he couldn’t hide.

He forced a laugh, but it came out hollow and thin. ‘What are you on about? I’m Draco. Of course I am.’ The words felt foreign in his mouth, as if he wasn’t the one speaking them.

But Luna wasn’t buying it. She looked at him like she was examining some curious specimen—unfazed, serene. She leaned in just a little closer, her voice soft but unwavering. ‘You’re carrying yourself like you’re someone else’s shadow.’

The silence between them stretched out, but it wasn’t uncomfortable to her. She just watched him, her gaze like it was already peeling away layers of his facade. ‘Not that I mind,’ she added, her tone light, as if they were discussing something trivial. ‘I always enjoy meeting new people, even if they don’t quite belong in the bodies they’re in.’

Threading her fingers together and placing them on the table, she smiled. ‘I also know you didn’t come alone.’

He stilled and her face seemed to bask in the revelation of being right. Sighing, he held out his hand. ‘I’m Adrien.’

‘I know,’ she smiled, acting as though this was the most natural conversation in the world.

Luna hopped out of her chair and sat on the edge of the table, her eyes gleaming as she glanced at him, up and down, a faint smile playing at the corners of her lips. There was something about the way she carried herself, an aura of quiet knowing that made Adrien feel both nervous and at ease at the same time.

‘You know, Adrien,’ Luna said, her voice soft but certain, as if she was letting him in on something she’d already decided long ago, ‘I know your secret.’

He blinked, surprised, but didn’t say anything right away. He wasn’t sure how much to say. Luna was... different. He couldn’t quite tell how much she understood or how much of what she said was making sense. But she kept talking, as if the weight of her words didn’t worry her in the least.

‘And Hermione’s, too,’ Luna added, casually picking up the newspaper again, her eyes fixed on the pages but she didn’t seem to be reading, instead just flicking through and looking at the pictures. ‘Don’t worry. I won’t tell. I like having a secret of my own for once. It’s nice, you know?’ Her voice had the tone of someone who was entirely at peace with holding onto things that weren’t meant to be shared.

Adrien let out a long breath, surprised, yet somehow relieved. ‘So, what secrets do you know?’

She shrugged. ‘You and the other girl have gained the powers of the Miraculous. Ladybug and Chat Noir. You can’t hide a secret like that for long, especially not from someone who spends as much time looking for clues as I do. But it’s a nice secret, isn’t it? One that keeps things interesting.’ She smiled, almost wistful. ‘I suppose it’s just one more thing to appreciate in the world of secrets.’

Adrien slumped down in the chair, the weight of the conversation sinking in. He wasn’t sure why it felt so easy to talk to Luna, but he found himself sharing everything he’d kept bottled up for so long: the pressure of living a double life, the constant fear that someone would figure him out, the guilt over all the times he’d failed as Chat Noir. The lies Marinette had hid from him.

Luna didn’t interrupt, didn’t offer solutions or assurances. She just listened, her eyes never leaving his as he spoke. Every now and then, she’d give one of her signature comments, so strange and unexpected that it made him stop and think.

‘You know,’ she said at one point, her head tilted thoughtfully, ‘sometimes the moon changes shape, but no one notices because it’s so subtle. You’d think we’d pay more attention to things like that.’

Adrien wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to that, but the oddness of it gave him a strange comfort. Maybe it didn’t need to make sense. Maybe Luna didn’t need everything to fit into neat little boxes. Sometimes, just being heard was enough.

‘You know, if you really want to find out the truth, ask the room for a Pensieve. Nothing reveals the truth more than the truth.’

Nothing reveals the truth more than the truth? Well, obviously? She hopped down from her spot heading back to her bag and placing it delicately on her shoulder.

‘I wish you could meet our friend, Luka,’ Adrien added, after a long pause. He smiled faintly, feeling a warmth spread through him at the thought of his friend. ‘He’s... he’s different, but in a good way. He’d understand you, I think.’

Luna’s eyes sparkled with a distant amusement. ‘Perhaps one day,’ she said softly. ‘But I don’t get along with snakes, you know.’

Adrien frowned, puzzled. ‘Snakes?’

‘Yes,’ she said, brushing off her robes with a quiet, almost imperceptible motion. ‘Luka’s a lovely person, I’m sure, but I’ve always had a bit of trouble with certain types of snakes.’ She gave him a half-smile, the same enigmatic expression that seemed to leave a thousand thoughts swirling in its wake. ‘I’ve learned it’s best to steer clear of them.’

He stared at her for a moment, trying to connect the dots, but before he could, Luna was already walking away, her light steps carrying her toward the door.

‘Take care, Adrien,’ she called over her shoulder, her voice a soft, melodic echo. ‘And remember... secrets are only heavy if you let them be.’

As Luna disappeared into the hall, Adrien couldn’t help but feel like he’d just had a conversation that would never entirely make sense, but at the same time, it felt like one of the most honest moments he’d had in a long time. The weight of his secrets didn’t feel so heavy anymore, and finally he had someone here who he could talk to.

Chapter Text

Draco

As far as alternate realities could go, Draco was growing quite fond of this one. It wasn’t as bad as he had originally thought. He hadn’t killed Hermione yet, he was finding time with Plagg quite enjoyable and amusing. He was meeting pretty girls left, right and centre, and he could blow stuff up with intense powers in his right hand. There were no pressures, no father telling him he wasn’t good enough, and no mother to parrot the words of his father. He was starting to feel–dare he say it–free.

He was currently on his way to the boulangerie. It seemed Marinette’s diary was going to become quite the source of information for the two of them, and as much as he hated to admit it, Hermione had been right when she’d said they needed to be on the same page. Adrien and Marinette’s relationship was deep, and for this to work they needed to make sure their relationship mirrored that. He had a heart. He wasn’t willing to risk their lives, and mess up what they’d built together. All he could hope was that Adrien and Marinette were giving the same thought to his and Hermione’s back at Hogwarts.

The tutoring had caused a bit of friction between Hermione and her friends, he knew that because she threw it at him every now and then, letting him know exactly what she was putting on the line to help him. But he also couldn’t help but wonder if she enjoyed the freedom it gave her away from them. He knew they’d only been here a couple of days, but he had to admit Hermione had more balls then he thought. Yes, she’d always been there as one of Harry’s sidekicks, but it seemed like there was a little something more, a warrior spirit if he’d ever seen one. He thought back to Plagg’s story about the Miraculous at Hogwarts. The fact the Ladybug was someone true and loyal, and where he was almost a thousand percent certain he was a snake, he couldn’t help but want to know more about the cat. Especially as he was getting on better with Plagg.

He’d found an unexpected connection with the kwami, and though they threw insults as easily as a Quaffle, there was something more there. Something like a bond.

Pushing the door open to the boulangerie, Draco barely stopped the curse escaping his mouth as he set eyes on a giant, or at least someone who looked like a giant. Draco was quite certain he’d dwarf Hagrid.

‘Adrien, my boy!’ Dropping the rag he was using to clean the counter, he moved forward scooping Draco into a tight bear hug. ‘How have you been?’

‘G-good, thank you Mr Dupain.’ Free falling to the ground from Marinette’s father’s grasp, he was surprised to see he hadn’t crumpled into a pile.

‘What did we say about the formalities? You’re practically family now, Adrien. Call me Tom.’

Draco nodded, completely taken by this welcoming. Pansy’s father had threatened him the first time they’d met, and they were newly dating twelve year olds. But this? He’d seen Adrien’s phone, he’d seen first hand what Adrien and Marinette were doing, under her parents’ roof, and he couldn’t help but be slightly ashamed and slightly nervous to be here.

‘Oh, hello, dear.’ A smaller woman came out from the back, cleaned trays in her hands, and handed them over to her husband. ‘Are you excited about the weekend?’

The weekend? It took a couple of moments to click. This weekend was the weekend of the big get away. Everyone seemed to be excited about it, everyone except himself and Hermione that was. One weekend of bed sharing and pretending to be France’s favourite couple–it was going to be quite the act.

‘Can’t wait,’ Draco smiled. The woman moved forward, wrapping her arms around him in the warmest hug he’d ever experienced in his life.

‘Well, make sure you take care of each other. Though, I know you will.’ She stepped back, her hands remaining on his biceps and a loving smile on her face. When was the last time he’d been looked at in this way? Come to think of it: had he ever been looked at like this?

‘Sure thing, Madam C.’

She chuckled and slapped him on his arm. ‘She’s up in her room. There’s some cookies just out of the oven if you want them, and if it gets too late, you’re fine to stay the night. There’s spare blankets in the cupboard.’

He quickly glanced at Tom wondering if the big guy was going to throw him out the window, only to be pleasantly surprised by the smile on his face. He made his way back to the counter and continued cleaning, Marinette’s mother heading over to help and ending the conversation. It was so homely, so natural. Nothing forced. Nothing exaggerated. He wasn’t judged for his name, he wasn’t judged by his mistakes, he was judged by his love for their daughter–well, Adrien’s. They trusted him with her. He’d never been trusted with anything in his life.

Draco made his way up the staircase and into the main part of the apartment, the smell of cookies dragging him in like a moth to a flame. He headed over to the counter and picked up the plate, he’d never smelt anything more delicious. Maybe this muggle food wasn’t as bad as he’d originally thought.

‘Can you have one of these?’ Draco asked, opening his shirt to allow Plagg freedom.

‘Nah, I’m more into cheese. These are Tikki’s forte.’

Draco’s hand hovered over the plate, unsure what to do.

‘Try one,’ Plagg urged. ‘Adrien loves them, but he does have a sweet tooth.’

Deciding, Draco grabbed the cookie on top. Warm and flexible in his grasp. He placed it to his lips and took a bite out of it, marvelling in the way the chocolate melted in his mouth as the cookie tore apart. Oh sweet pumpkin pastries! He had never tasted anything this good before!

‘I wonder if I can get these in London?’ Draco said, placing the remainder in his mouth.

Plagg chuckled. ‘I couldn’t see why not?’

‘I’ll have to get Hermione to show me when we go–’ He stopped. How had that just happened? The words seemed to have come out so naturally. But why? They didn’t talk. They didn’t do anything together, so why would Hermione take him, someone she hated, to a bakery to get soft cookies?

‘I think someone’s growing on you, Kid.’

Draco shook his head, placing another full cookie in his mouth, obstructing him from talking anymore.

‘Deny it all you like,’ Plagg continued, flying around and towards the staircase. ‘You two definitely have more of a connection than you originally thought.’

Draco shook his head again. Nope. Not happening. He might not hate Hermione anymore, now she was just like an uncomfortable itch. Fine one minute, bugging him the next.

He reached for another one, suddenly addicted to their sweet taste when the soft sounds of very out of tune singing, stopped him in his tracks. What the hell was that?

‘The thread’s connected to the spool, And the spool’s connected to the tension, And the tension’s connected to the needle, Now we’ve got the right dimension! Oh, the sewing machine’s coming together, Everything’s in place, now we’ll sew forever, From the foot to the fabric, it’s all so neat, Let’s make some magic, stitch by stitch, complete!’

Stepping up and into the room, Draco placed the plate down and began to clap his hands together loudly and dramatically, Plagg whistling and giving his own cheers.

‘Encore! Encore!’ Draco announced, Plagg laughing and joining in.

She turned around to face him, her cheeks flushed in a peony pink, and hair falling over her face. His fingers itched to stretch up and remove strands, pushing them back into their place. The unnerving feeling travelled from his fingers all the way to his stomach. What the hell was going on? Flushed cheeks and bad singing shouldn’t make him want to touch her.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he looked at the kwami beside him, his own cheeks heating from the kwami’s glare.

‘Hi,’ Hermione said, blowing the stray strand out of her face, his fingers clenching tightly as it fell straight back down. ‘I thought you were coming later. I was just trying this to see if I could use it.’

Draco shrugged, picking up the cookies and moving towards her desk. He placed them down with the tenderness of placing a baby in a crib. ‘I wanted to see why everyone seemed to love this place so much.’

‘And?’ she said, flipping her head down and grabbing a scrunchy to tie up her hair.

‘It’s good.’ He took another cookie and bit a substantial bite.

She stared at him, Tikki flying beside her to look back, both tilting their heads in synchronised movements.

‘Hey, Kid?’

Draco looked, waiting for Plagg to continue.

‘You have chocolate all around your mouth.’

‘Buggar!’ Draco said, moving to the sink in the corner and looking in the mirror as the others laughed behind him. He caught their reflection, the happy smiles together and the laughter, for once in his life, didn’t annoy him. It actually made him feel part of something, like instead of laughing at him, they were laughing with him.

‘Are the cookies still warm?’ Hermione asked, grabbing one herself and taking a huge bite. Very unladylike if you asked him, yet also quite the sight.

‘They should be,’ Draco replied, wiping the water from his mouth. As he looked back up into the mirror, he couldn’t help but snort. She looked like a clown. ‘Come here,’ he said, unable to stop smiling.

‘Why?’ she said, her eyes narrowing suspiciously at him.

‘You have chocolate all around your mouth too.’ Moving forward, he stretched up and wiped the cloth over her, tenderly wiping the chocolate away. Slowly, he continued wiping, his eyes finding hers and staring at them. Had she always had such a mix of colours? They looked like a caramel swirl, darks and lights all knotting together and shining. He couldn’t take his eyes away. They were warming like coffee and as precious as amber.

‘Draco?’ she said, snapping him out of his thoughts.

‘All done,’ he smiled, turning away from her and wringing the cloth tightly between his hands.

There was a definite change to the way he was looking at her, one which filled him with unease. Never had he felt so alone and unsure with someone, almost as though he cared about what she thought. But why on Earth would he care about Granger? She was like a bad piece of gum stuck on his shoe. Nothing more and nothing less.

‘So, the weekend? Are you looking forward to it?’ he asked in way of a distraction.

She coughed, her throat still thick when she spoke. Had she felt the same thing as he had? Or was it just the cookie? ‘Yeah, it sounds like it should be fun. I can’t remember the last time I went somewhere without the fear of death hanging over my head.’

She laughed but there was no humour there.

‘It’s still crazy to think you went chasing a murderer.’

Hermione shrugged. ‘We weren’t so much chasing him, as chasing parts of him.’

‘Horcruxes, is that correct?’

‘It is,’ Hermione nodded, moving to the wardrobe and rummaging through some of the clothing.

‘And they were parts of Voldermort’s soul?’

Hermione turned around sharply, her eyes wide and mouth open. ‘Look at you being all grown up and calling him by his name.’

He shrugged suppressing the smile fighting to break through. ‘What can I say? All the running around in a leather catsuit has made me put my big boy pants on.’

She laughed, really laughed and the sound was addictive. He wanted to do it again. He wanted her to make that sound for him again. Oh, hell! He saved her once and now he’s obsessed. What was going on?

Okay, obsessed might have been a little strong of a word, but there was most certainly something there.

‘So,’ he coughed, clearing his throat before he made an even bigger tit out of himself. ‘This weekend. What’s the game plan?’

She turned back to her wardrobe, looking through the different clothing and he couldn’t help but wonder if she was doing it just to do something.

‘We survive,’ she said, nonchalantly.

He laughed. Maybe he’d underestimated how sassy she could be, or maybe it was different when it wasn’t aimed at him.

‘Marinette seems to have already packed, so I’m just going to pray she remembered to put clean underwear in there.’

‘Are you not going to check?’ He was surprised she’d let someone take control of something like that.

She shrugged, moving to sit on the chaise lounge. ‘Let's just say, it’s come to my attention that I'm a bit of a control freak. This is me living on the edge.’

‘And what an edge it’ll be if you have to wear the same pair of knickers three days in a row.’

She smiled. ‘My dear Malfoy, not that I’d want to, but you can technically get four wears out of one pair of pants.’

He screwed up his nose as he considered it. ‘No thank you, I’ll stick with wearing them one time and then washing. I’ll scrub them in the sink if I need to.’

Plagg settled on his shoulder, becoming more and more his little wingman. ‘I’m with him.’

Draco held up his hand, Plagg slapping it with his fin before settling back on his shoulder.

‘But what if there’s an akuma?’ Draco asked. Something that had been plaguing him since last night.

‘It’s simple,’ Tikki said, flying in front of them. ‘I thought Plagg would have filled you in.’

‘Nah,’ the kwami said. ‘I wanted to see you tell him.’

‘Well,’ Tikki continued, ‘you power up and fly back.’

‘We can fly?’ Draco said. Now there was an upgrade he could get used to. He loved flying, he loved the thrill and the way the wind whipped through his hair. ‘Awesome!’

‘I knew you’d be a fan of that kid.’ They all turned to look at Hermione who’d grown a little paler from the mention of being airborne.

‘I think I’d prefer to keep my feet firmly on the ground, thank you.’

‘If Paris is under attack, I don’t think you’ll get a choice, H.’ H? Where the hell had that come from. ‘You’ll be fine though,’ he continued quickly, hoping to distract from the awkward nickname he’d just used. ‘I’ll hold your hand. It’s no biggie.’

He moved to the cookies, taking another one and pushing it through the smile on his face. She rolled her eyes at him, though the pink dots had come back on her cheeks.

‘I best go and pack then. Do you want me to meet you here in the morning or at the boat?’

Apparently, one of their other friends was sorting out the car share. They all needed to meet at his house, which was apparently a boat, and make their way from there.

‘Alya’s meeting me here to walk over, so I suppose I’ll just see you there.’

‘Excellent,’ Draco said, taking one more cookie and launching it into his mouth. He walked towards the staircase only to spot something on the top of the travel bag. He moved towards it, lifting out the shorts and small lacy top. ‘Green paw prints…nice!’

She stomped over, grabbing them from him and slamming them back into the bag. ‘Marinette doesn’t have a lot of options.’

‘Sure,’ he snickers, Plagg joining in behind him. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow then.’ He started to walk towards the staircase into her room and stopped, an idea crossing his mind that was just too good to give up. ‘Oh, and by the way, I sleep in my boxers. I hope that’s not going to be a problem.’

Without waiting for a response, he headed out the trapdoor and down the stairs into the main part of the apartment, revelling in the squealing and groaning coming from behind him, including the pillow that sailed perfectly out of the trapdoor and into the back of his head.

This weekend was going to be better than he ever could have imagined.

Chapter Text

Hermione

The morning was bright and cheerful, and Hermione couldn’t help but feel in bright spirits as she headed out of the boulangerie. She threw her bag over one shoulder and pulled her sunglasses down from her head, placing them over her eyes. It had been years since she truly enjoyed the Easter break. The last few had consisted of plotting to take down a psychopath with crazy magical powers, and before that she’d been at home with her parents, no friends in sight.

‘Hey girl, you look amazing.’ Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Alya walking down the road, a backpack on her shoulders and the shortest shorts she’d ever seen. But with Alya’s gorgeous dark skin, and long legs, she looked as though she’d stepped straight off the pages of Vogue. Hermione had never felt so jealous in her life.

‘You’re so stunning,’ Hermione responded, wrapping Alya in a tight hug. It had only been a couple of days, but having such a close female friend, away from the tight confines of Hogwarts, was nice. It was special. Here, she was just a normal girl with a normal life, well…within reason.

When she looked through Marinette’s wardrobe the previous night, Hermione noticed how sweet and innocent Marinette dressed, the complete opposite to the girl she was starting to know, and the girl that was inside the diary. Marinette was beautiful. She had a perfect body with wonderful assets, yet she kept them covered.

That changed today.

She was wearing a short-sleeved crop top, complete with drooping shoulders and puff sleeves. The yellow and orange floral pattern suited her dark hair colour, hair which had been turned into an Elsa plait and draped across one shoulder. She’d paired this with a jean skirt and wedged sandals.

She couldn’t deny that she was looking forward to seeing Malfoy. Her outfit styled to have him stupefied to the spot, and making him regret every ill-fated remark he’d ever sent her way. He was about to swallow his pride and his words. And she couldn’t wait.

‘Did Adrien stay over last night?’ Alya asked, leading the way down the path and towards the Seine.

Hermione shook her head. ‘No, he hadn’t packed so he just dropped by.’

Alya scoffed. ‘Men! Nino did exactly the same.’

Hermione hated lying, she really did, but she couldn’t exactly tell Alya that there was no chance in hell she was spending the night with Adrien–well, Malfoy. This weekend was going to be hard enough. Though she'd discussed this a lot with Tikki, her support rock, she could guarantee there would be no close proximity, only one bed trope going on between her and Malfoy. They’d agreed to one sleeping on a sofa, or the floor and the other in the bed. Kind of like Ryan Reynolds and Sandra Bullock in The Proposal.

‘Did you remember to pack the added extras we got last weekend?’ Alya’s question threw her off guard. Firstly, she wasn’t here last weekend and secondly, she hadn’t even checked through the bag–trusting Marinette’s packing ability.

‘Added extras?’ she queried, Alya looking like she wanted to slam her hand into her face.

‘Oh, girl! Don’t tell me you’ve already worn them?’

‘I, er,’ The disappointment was obvious in Alya’s eyes.

‘No! No! Of course not,’ Hermione quickly exclaimed. ‘I was saving it for this weekend for a reason, right?’

‘Exactly!’ Alya held out her fist, Hermione considering for the moment whether to bump it or play Hot Potato.

They continued strolling along the streets, Alya smiling brightly as all Hermione could do was wonder what the hell was in the bag, and what was the reason why? She suddenly felt sorry for Marinette, so much thought and effort had gone into making sure this was perfect, and here she was, pretending to like someone she hated just so they didn’t lose face.

But did she really still hate him?

The word hate was suddenly starting to feel very wrong. Like she was trying to convince herself of that fact more than she actually felt it. They weren’t exactly friends, but she really felt like things were starting to change, and most of all, she didn’t actually mind it. The relationship was still toxic, though now, it was also starting to feel…refreshing.

‘Nino peeked in my bag earlier,’ Alya said out of nowhere. ‘Luckily, I left it wrapped up in the bag. So he knows he’s getting a surprise, he just doesn’t know what it is yet.’

They stopped at the crosswalk, Alya pressing the button ready to cross.

‘Good job it was in the bag then,’ Hermione said, hoping it was the right answer.

‘Sure is,’ she laughed. ‘The twins were in my room after makeup, and Nino yanked out the Ysé bag like Santa had arrived.’

‘No way,’ Hermione said, faking the shock as best as she could.

‘Yes way! I think Etta caught onto what it was, but ran out giggling with Ella. Hopefully they won’t blab, at least not to Nora anyway.’

The signal turned green, Alya taking the lead once again to move forward. Hermione, walking behind, pulled the phone out of her side bag. She quickly opened the internet app and typed in Ysé, almost dropping the phone as ladies in very, very little clothing appeared on the screen. Ysé was a lingerie company, and a sexy one at that. She glanced down at the bag wondering what Marinette had hidden away in there and whether she could get through the entire weekend without having to wear it. Why, oh, why didn’t she check? What was wrong with her? This is why she was a control freak. When she was in charge, things like this didn’t happen.

She had no doubt Malfoy would be all over it if he found it. So from here on out, her bag would stay away from him…and anyone else for that matter. Never in her year of dating Ron, had she even considered wearing something raunchy.

‘We’ll have to compare responses the day after. Though, if I have my way, myself and Nino won’t be leaving the bedroom for at least half a day. I’m getting my money’s worth from this bad boy.’

Hermione felt herself grow pale. Blood leaving her face at such an intense speed she was going to pass out, or be sick, or maybe both.

It seemed Alya knew too much about her relationship with Adrien, and if they didn’t…well, do it, it would probably cause more problems than if they did. Although, if she’s on her period, wouldn’t that be a shame. Alya wouldn’t know her menstrual cycle? Right.

‘Urgh!’ Hermione suddenly said, wrapping her arms around her waist.

‘Are you okay?’ Alya asked, placing an arm over her shoulders.

‘Just cramps, I think. Maybe my periods starting.’

Alya studied her for a moment. Her eyebrows pulled into a tight frown. ‘But you were on your period a week and half ago. How could it be that?’

Hermione stood up a little. Damn! ‘Oh, it could be something worse, maybe it’s appendicitis? Perhaps I should just go to the hospital and get checked out.’

Alya rolled her eyes. ‘You’re being dramatic again. It’s probably just gas. Or you’re pregnant?’

‘Pregnant? Nope. No way! No chance.’

‘What do you mean ‘no chance’ you two barely leave the bedroom when you’re together.’

This conversation needed to move on, and fast.

‘It’ll pass,’ Hermione said, straightening up a little more. ‘I’ll be okay.’

‘Well, good,’ Ayla said, turning to make her way down a staircase. ‘We’ve been planning this for far too long for it to go wrong now. We’re all turning eighteen this year, it was your idea to go away and do one huge joint celebration.’

Following behind Alya, Hermione was growing more and more anxious for what was about to happen, even more so when she saw Draco on the boat, Nino beside him. She’d prefer to face Voldermort again than be trapped in a cabin with her nemesis. Her stomach rolled again.

‘There they are. Nice and punctual. It’s amazing what happens when you promise them a weekend of hot, sweaty–’

Before Alya could finish, arms were flung around their shoulders knocking them off balance. ‘Girls!’

Hermione turned her head, coming face to face with... ‘Adrien?’

She stared at the boy currently connected to her and Alya before checking the boat once again. How could he be here and there at the same time?

‘Adrien’s on the boat. Yes, I can see.’ Adrien’s look-a-like dropped her a wink and everything began to click together in her mind. This was the guy Draco messaged her about last night after he arrived home. Adrien’s cousin Félix.

‘Sorry, I wasn’t sure if you’d spoken to him about you know what, yet?’ She hoped Félix was as decent as Draco had made him out to be, because right now, she needed a friend.

He seemed to understand, acting on her words quickly and moving himself in front of them. ‘Nah, you know what he’s like. He was with you last night too, so it wasn’t like I had a chance to speak to him.’

‘Where’s Kagami?’ Alya asked, glancing behind them at the empty riverbank.

‘She’s just on the phone in the car. She’s going to meet us down here when she finally tells her mother to fuck off.’

Hermione couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. Félix was so much like Draco it was as though there were two of them. No wonder they got on well. They were probably both planning a bank heist–or world domination. Looking at the boat, she caught Draco glancing straight at her, a small grin on his face and a slight tilt to his head. Her eyes remained locked on his as they continued walking over the gangway and onto the boat.

Draco turned back to the guys he was talking to, every now and then his eyes flicking back to her. This turned into small sideways glances as they grew closer.

He was standing with Nino and a tall, thin guy with blue streaks in his jet black hair. The aura around him was calm, curious and collected, and Hermione suddenly felt herself tense. He caught her eye, holding it as though he knew all of her inner secrets–she just hoped he couldn’t read the one she was holding onto at the moment.

‘Hey,’ she said, giving everyone a quick wave before heading over to Draco.

His gaze changed into one of curiosity, studying her face with intense precision. Finally, he dropped her a wink and the unease that had been knotted in her stomach began to release. They were here, and they were together. She wasn’t alone in any of this, and even if he wasn’t exactly Ron or Harry, he was still someone she knew, someone she, unbelievably, trusted.

Feeling the guy standing with them staring at her, she moved closer to Draco, stretching up on her toes and placed a small kiss to the corner of his mouth. She smiled at him with as much enthusiasm as she could muster, and a lot more than she would have expected.

He lowered his head closer to her, his breath hitting her neck and making her shiver as he spoke. ‘I’m pretty sure you can do better than that, Granger.’

Her breath hitched, as he pushed a hand under her braid and held her neck, pulling her slowly towards him. Her heart was thundering against her chest and she was wondering if everyone could hear it. His smell engulfed her, absorbing her into him, and into this moment. Her eyes fluttered closed the closer he got, the feel of his eyelashes brushing her face as his lips closed over hers.

Their lips stayed pressed together—closed-mouthed yet electrifying. His were soft, his skin cool against hers from the draft rising off the Seine. His hand tightened around her, strong and steady, anchoring her as he pressed into her gently. The urge to open her mouth, to let him in, was becoming unbearable. She wanted to taste him, to surrender to this strange, unexplainable feeling creeping over her. Was it because he was different from Ron, even Victor Krum? Or was it something more? Was it just… him?

Before she could make a decision, he’d already taken the liberty and started to move away, leaving her to whimper in the absence of his lips. Slowly, her eyes opened, his own studying her, almost like this was the first time he was truly seeing her.

‘When you two are done, we need to get going.’ A voice sounded from somewhere around her, but all she could do was stare at Draco. What the hell was happening? And why did she have the sudden need to check what exactly it was Marinette had packed in her bag?

‘Yeah,’ Draco said. His voice, low and thick like the creamiest of Butterbeers.

‘Yeah,’ she repeated, turning to the boy with the blue streaks.

‘The cars are ready. Marinette, you’re coming with me, Juleka and Rose, Alya and Nino are with Kim, Myléne and Ivan. Adrien, you’re with Félix, Kagami and Alix.’

‘Why am I not with Marinette?’ Draco said, looping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer. Her body moved into him with precision and ease, something she’d never considered feeling with her teenage foe. They morphed together, the unease at the comfortable feeling tugged at her heart.

The guy glanced between them, crossing his arms over his chest. ‘We didn’t think you’d mind.’

Draco raised an eyebrow. Hermione was quite sure if they still had their wands on them, he would have pulled it out by now and challenged this guy to a duel.

‘It’s okay, cus! Luka here will look after Marinette, and you get to spend time with me, Alix and Kagami. What could be better?’

Luka.

Hermione had read his name in Marinette’s diary. He was a close friend, and he knew her identity. But right now there seemed a whole lot of animosity amongst them. She knew Marinette had been on a couple of dates with Luka, and that Luka was in love with Marinette. But she also knew Marinette had made it very clear her love was for Adrien, and if Luka knew their identities, well, that cleared up everything. There’s no way Ladybug and Chat Noir weren’t destined to be together.

‘It’s okay,’ she said, sliding closer to Draco and fanning a hand over his chest. ‘Keep your phone on you. You never know what messages you might receive?’ She kissed him under the ear, half for display and half to see Luka’s reaction. He was waiting for Marinette. Waiting for her and Adrien to end, but there was no end. Their bond was strong, so strong.

‘Only if you’re okay with that,’ Draco’s voice wobbled slightly, and Hermione couldn’t help but hope it was from the kiss. She wanted to affect him, just as he was affecting her.

‘I’ll be fine.’ She looked up into his eyes. ‘I’m a big girl.’

Nodding, Draco bent down, wrapping his arms around her waist in a tight hug, his head burying into her hair. ‘Watch out for the snake,’ he whispered before turning and walking away.

She watched him go, making his way over the gangplank with Félix chatting at his side. But then he stopped and glanced over his shoulder. His eyes bored into hers, and with a small smile he mouthed words that sent her stomach into a freefall.

You look beautiful.

Then he turned and left. That little reassurance meant more than she ever would have considered.

‘You ready?’ Luka stepped forward, grabbing her bag and placing it on his shoulder. Her eyes remained on her partner, his head every now and then turning to look back.

She smiled. ‘I’m more ready than I thought.’

Chapter Text

Marinette

Marinette hadn’t slept. Hadn’t eaten. And was barely functioning as she stumbled to the train station with the rest of the students. It was finally the weekend, and where usually she would have been grateful for the break from school work, right now she was missing the distraction and routine.

She hadn’t seen Adrien since Defense Against the Dark Arts. She’d tried to follow him and find him, but every step she took was met with an obstacle, most of the time wearing green and silver.

Life had grown dark, and dull. She’d made bad choice after bad choice, and worst of all she’d let herself believe it was the right one, but how could it ever be right when she had been hurting someone she loved. The added bonus of him being Chat Noir only made matters worse.

The train was due anytime now, the crowds of third to eighth years standing in groups on the platform. She was with Harry, Ron, Neville, Seamus and Ginny, conversation flowing freely, but she wasn’t listening to any of it. Instead, she was gazing at the crowds searching for Adrien. She needed to see him. To find him and make this right. She was ready to grovel and beg, praying that he would accept it and they’d be good again. But she knew that was just a dream, one that had her waking up in tears this morning.

As Ginny laughed at something Harry had said, two blonde heads caught her stare. Adrien was there…but he wasn’t alone. A girl was with him. Beautiful and glowing. She was dressed in pink and sparkles, the outfit quirky, but it suited her. They were in deep conversation, the girl’s arms snuggly in a hand muff as Adrien said something to make her laugh.

Marinette’s heart clenched knowing full well how funny and carefree Adrien could be. His puns. His dad jokes. His dry sarcasm whenever Félix was around.

Marinette stepped back, trying to step into his path. ‘Draco,’ she called. He didn’t even flinch. ‘Draco!’ she tried again, this time a little louder.

No response.

She tried one more time, this time loud enough to stop everyone around them…except him. His jaw flexed, his hands burying deeper into his jeans pockets as he walked to the other end of the platform, away from her.

Chatter increased around them, people pointing and gossiping about her outburst. But the embarrassment was nothing compared to the pain in her chest. Her heart was slowly bleeding, thousands of papercuts shredding it to tiny pieces in the most harmful of ways.

‘Hermione?’ Ginny asked, moving towards her. Marinette couldn’t face her though, not when she could still see Adrien walking away. ‘Hermione, come on. The train will be here in a minute.’

But she couldn’t move. Adrien was still there. Still walking through the crowds who were attempting to swallow him. His blond hair stood tall, as he towered over the people waiting for the train to station.

‘Hermione,’ Ginny spoke again. Adrien’s head disappeared, blending in with the crowds and moving out of view.

‘Yeah,’ she said, snapping out of her trance to look at Ginny, unable to keep the emotion from flooding her voice.

‘I said the train will be here in a minute. Are you okay?’ she asked, her eyes full of concern. Marinette nodded, attempting to place on a reassuring smile.

‘Yeah.’ She looked over her shoulder across the platform one last time. ‘Yeah. I’m fine.’

Ginny smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. ‘Come on. We’re going to move up the platform a little to get a front cabin.’

Marinette shook her head. ‘Actually, I have some work to do. It’s in my bag.’ She gave the bag on her hip a little tap for good measure. ‘I might just sit alone for now. Get some revision done.’

The sound of the train approaching was coming quickly. The horn blew loudly as the platform was covered in smoke. Ginny looked torn, her eyes sweeping from her to Harry and back again.

‘Go,’ Marinette said with a smile. ‘I’m fine.’

Ginny glanced backwards and forwards again, the train finally coming into view.

‘Ginny, I’m okay.’ Marinette spoke again, softer this time. ‘I just need to do work, that’s all.’

Slowly nodding, Ginny turned and made her way back to Harry. Marinette watched as Ginny explained to him, Harry nodding and leading the group up the platform. But one remained. Ron stood still, studying her. He looked torn, unsure whether to go to the others or make his way to her.

Marinette shrugged, giving him a slight smile of reassurance hoping that he’d take the bait. He turned, glancing over his shoulder one last time, before walking in the direction of the others, leaving her alone to think.

Yet, her thoughts were everything but pleasant.

The journey to Hogsmeade was short, but not short enough to stop the intrusive thoughts from breaking through. Had Adrien already moved on? Had she burned the bridge so much that he’d completely given up on her? On them? She could just imagine it now. Back in Paris, Plagg being handed back to her and Adrien giving up on being Chat Noir, on his freedom. She’d taken so much from him, trying to protect him in a way which was no better than his father.

The reality hit hard—she was no different to Gabriel Agreste.

*

A rush of trees plummeted the train into darkness as it ploughed through a forest on the outskirts of Hogwarts. Her mood suited the occasion perfectly, her soul as dark as the current light in the carriage.

She’d hurt the one person who she was trying to protect. Her best friend. Her most loyal companion. The boy who’d cataclysmed his own father. A boy she’d failed one too many times.

Marinette buried her head in her hands, fighting back the stinging in her nose.

The swish of the carriage door opening had her looking up, hope sparking in her heart that Adrien had finally decided to give her a chance, to actually hear her out and then make his judgement. But the tiny spark of hope was extinguished by the sight of Ron’s face.

‘Hi,’ he said, his voice barely audible over the rattling of the wheels.

‘Hi,’ Marinette replied. She turned her attention back to the window, objects flying by but not making any sense. She couldn’t see what they were, nothing seemed formed correctly, just one big blur.

Her eyes refocused and instead of looking at the trees and lakes, she watched the reflection of Ron moving into the carriage and sitting opposite her.

‘I’m not here to argue,’ he said, his eyes firmly fixed on her. She shrugged. There was nothing she wanted to say to anyone at the moment, no one except Adrien that is.

‘Hermione, please. We’ve been through so much. We need to talk calmly and rationally. I mean, bloody hell, all we’ve done for the past few months is scream at each other. I know we argued before we got together but this seems…’ he stopped, his shoulders drooping, ‘different.’

She turned her head from the window to look at the boy in front of her. Whatever had happened between him and Hermione was playing on his mind, and, even though she didn’t have a clear view of their relationship, she owed him the chance to air it out. That’s what she wanted Adrien to do after all.

‘Yeah,’ she said, a small awkward smile.

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered, leaning forwards and burying his hands in his hair. ‘I’m sorry I’ve been so bloody awful. But with everything that happened, with the battle, with Fred, I just…I…’

‘You don’t know who you are anymore.’

‘Yeah,’ he said, his head still hanging low. He threaded his fingers together, resting his elbows on his knees defeated. ‘I’ve been pushing you away without realising,’ he whispered. ‘I’ve been finding ways to destroy this.’

Marinette frowned, unsure how to respond. ‘How? Why?’

Ron looked up, his voice not much more than a whisper as he spoke. ‘You remind me of everything I’ve lost.’

Without even knowing the full depth of what they went through, that stung. Hard. ‘I…I don’t know what to say.’

Sitting back, Ron sighed, his head dropping back against the rest. ‘I love you, Hermione. I do, I just don’t think I’m in love with you, I don’t know if I ever was.’

‘Ouch,’ Marinette said, though she was almost certain Hermione would have different words.

‘This is really coming out wrong,’ Ron groaned.

Reaching out, Marinette took his hand, his eyes shooting down to meet hers before studying their joined hands. ‘Then explain to me.’

He took a moment, and she could see his face morphing and changing as though considering what it was he wanted to say. And when he finally spoke, she was surprised with how much she understood.

‘I think it was the tension. We had a lot in common when we were working through everything. But then it ended. Everything just ended. And battling the grief of losing Fred, I also had to battle losing something else I’d been clinging on to…and you were part of that.’

The words spoke so true. Words she could relate to with her past feelings for Chat Noir, but there was a difference there, and not just the neverending battle against evil.

‘Do you think it would have been different if we’d become friends before we started chasing Voldermort?’

Ron glanced out the window, another moment of silence encasing them.

‘Yeah. I think it would have been different. I don’t want to hurt you, Hermione, you mean so much to me. But I feel as though we were pushed together, rather than found each other.’

She smiled. ‘That makes perfect sense.’

He stared at her, almost in shock. But he was right, so, so right. She hadn’t fallen in love with Chat Noir first, it was Adrien. But now knowing they’re the same, everything became better and more clear. He was everything to her, and even once they were finished and the Miraculous were gone, she’d still love him, because she’d fallen in love with the man behind the mask first.

‘You’re agreeing with me?’ he squeaked. ‘You never agree with me.’

She shrugged. ‘There’s a first time for everything, right?’

‘So, are we good? I just…I don’t want to lose you.’

‘You’ll never lose me.’ She smiled at him, knowing full well, Hermione would have said something similar. Ron’s lips tilted, and she had to admit, he was cute when he smiled.

They relaxed back in their chairs. Both looking out the window. She sighed, resting her elbow on the window ledge. ‘Do you think we were too different? That we just weren’t destined to be?’

He brushed a thumb along his bottom lip as though considering the words. ‘You are brilliant, Hermione. You were captivating, you still are. But, I don’t know, it was…different then.’

‘Is it just about Malfoy?’

He shook his head. ‘Nah. He’s just easy to blame. I hate that you’re kind enough to help him, even after everything he did. And I know you and Harry are both adamant he’s changed, but I just don’t want to believe it. I want to hate him. I need someone to blame, and he’s the easiest person.’

‘That’s understandable. All I’ve been doing is tutoring him though. I promise, nothing has happened or will happen between me and Malfoy. I doubt I’ll be tutoring him anymore either.’

The train began to slow to a stop, Ron pushing on his knees to stand. He stretched a hand out towards her. ‘Come on. Let’s go and get a drink at the Three Broomsticks—a peace offering.’

Placing her hand in his, she stood. ‘Sure.’

Chapter Text

Draco

Draco checked his—well, Adrien’s—phone for about the hundredth time in five minutes. They’d barely made it down the street when his fingers began to itch, the feeling of being separated from Hermione unsettling.

She’d been growing on him like a fire he never meant to start—warm, consuming, and impossible to put out. He didn’t know whether to blame the forced proximity, or the simmering feelings he’d been holding onto since he started Hogwarts. No one knew about the little light inside him started by his tit for tat with Hermione, and as far as he was concerned it had been long extinguished. Yet, the more time he was spending with her, the more he was growing tolerate of her obscure behaviour.

And that kiss…it was nothing more than a ploy to make sure everyone knew she was his. She’d waltzed onto the boat in the most stunning outfit he’d ever seen on a woman and forgive him if something in his stomach stirred, something he saw on the snake's face too. He couldn’t let him have her. She was his.

The possessive bubble held tightly in his throat, causing him problems with his breathing. And then her lips touched his, and he was taken. Spun around like he was on a malfunction broomstick and thrown to the basilisk. It was unlike anything he’d ever felt in his life, and he’d kissed his fair share of girls.

As his thumb stroked over his bottom lip, Draco tapped his phone screen again.

‘You know what they say, a watched pot never boils.’

Draco peered over at Félix. The guy had a smug grin on his face, sunglasses on and eyes firmly set on the road. Glancing into the backseats of the car, Draco checked the girls were talking before lowering his voice.

‘Should I be worried about the snake?’

He noticed Félix’s eyebrows disappear behind his glasses. ‘The snake?’

Draco nodded, checking his phone again. ‘Yeah, the dude with the snake bracelet.’

Félix looked comical. His mouth was wide open and his knuckles were white around the steering wheel. ‘The snake.’

Keeping his voice low, Draco replied. ‘Yes! That’s what I said!’ He gazed over his shoulder again, catching Alix staring back at him curiously. He sat himself upright, barely shaking the feeling of being watched.

‘Makes sense,’ Félix nodded, still no answer to the question.

‘And?’ Draco urged, his voice coming out rougher than he’d intended.

Félix shrugged his shoulders. ‘They dated. It didn’t work out because Marinette was in love with someone else, and she didn’t want him to know the truth.’

‘The truth?’

‘Yeah,’ Félix said, pulling up to a red light and turning his head to Draco. Damn, he wished he could see through these black glasses. ‘The truth!’ The words were laced with meaning and it didn’t take long for him to catch on.

‘Oh! That truth.’

‘What truth?’ Alix asked, moving forward and looking between the boys. ‘Anything you want to share with the class?’

Draco scrutinised the girl. Something about her reeked with confidence, almost like she knew something he didn’t, that she was in on a secret about him, that even he didn’t know.

‘Nope,’ Draco said, turning his attention back to his phone. ‘Nothing interesting here.’

‘Oh, that’s a shame. I was hoping the truth might be quite…magical!’

Draco watched her sit back in her seat, arms crossed and eyes challenging him. She definitely knew something.

His phone buzzed in his lap, the chime of the message tone almost as satisfactory as beating Potter in a duel.

New message: Marinette

Marinette: This is the longest car ride in history

Adrien: I bet you wish you had Floo Powder right now?

Marinette: Either that or a broomstick

Adrien: Such a typical witch!

Marinette: I’m impressed by that response

Adrien: Ha! Why?

Marinette: I was half expecting you to ask me to fly yours

The laughter burst from him, causing Félix to swerve. ‘Geez, mate. At least let me know if you’re going to try and cause a crash.’

Draco wiped a hand over his mouth. Why hadn’t he thought of that response? It was funny and one hundred percent what he would have said a week ago. But now…for some reason it felt disrespectful. Man, what was wrong with him?

‘Sorry,’ Draco apologised, typing back quickly on the phone. ‘It’s just…Marinette.’

‘Of course. Marinette can be quite humorous sometimes.’ Kagami pulled out her own phone and began to text.

‘She most certainly can.’

The rest of the journey was pretty mellow. Draco fell in and out of conversation with Félix and the others effortlessly, and he made a mental note to ask Félix to meet him sometime in the future for a drink. Maybe he could meet Adrien too—if they were in the same reality. Once again, his thoughts wandered to home, and where that actually was.

He gazed over his shoulder again, his eyes catching Alix’s. Maybe, if there was someone here who could help them, this was who it was, because regardless of Hermione’s smarts, he didn’t think that that was going to be enough this time. They were dealing with something neither of them had any idea about.

The car slowed, pulling up outside what could only be described as a cabin fit for a horror movie. The Shrieking Shack needed to up its game if this was what it was against.

‘This is a little different to what I was expecting,’ Félix said, putting the car in park and turning off the ignition.

It stood alone in the woods, a forgotten relic, battered by time and the harsh elements of the seasons. Its stone foundation, crumbling in places, seemed to fight against the weight of the years, while the wooden walls faded to a dull, weathered gray. Some planks were chipped, others warped.

The roof, a patchwork of mismatched tiles, sagged in places, and a few had fallen off entirely, leaving gaps in the coverage. Ivy and moss had begun to creep over the edges, like nature itself was slowly reclaiming the space.

Next to it, was a small lake with a deck leading out over the water. So that was the reason they needed to pack their swimming outfits.

‘Yeah, not exactly The Ritz is it.’ Félix was standing alongside him, wearing a face of disgust which most likely mirrored his own. This was just nasty.

‘Who the hell booked this?’ Draco asked, unable to see anything good inside. They would have to clean the place before they even considered sitting on anything.

‘It looked better on Airbnb,’ a tall lad, who Draco thought was called Kim, said, making their way around the front of their car.

Kagami stood straight, looking disgusted at what was in front of them. ‘Does it even have hot water?’

Kim shrugged, moving to his open boot to remove the bags.

‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen you two look this much alike.’ Alya was walking towards him and Félix,, Nino in tow carrying a selection of different bags.

‘What you got there?’ Félix asked.

Nino groaned, dropping the bags down. ‘Food and drink. Lots and lots of drink!’

‘Food and drink which needs to get in the fridge asap. Come on, Nino.’ Alya bounded up the staircase leading to the door, leaving the rest of them standing outside.

‘We’ve actually got to stay here. Like there’s no hotel near we could just check in for a couple of nights.’

‘What’s wrong, Adrien? Scared?’ Alix had stepped behind them, almost scaring the life out of him as she clamped a hand down on his shoulder.

‘I’m not scared at all, it’s just…look at it.’

‘I happen to think it looks quite romantic.’ A small girl with blonde hair and a fetish for pink appeared from the back of another car with a much taller girl, Hermione and Luka.

Hermione walked straight to him, her face looking paler than usual. She looped an arm around his waist, pressing herself into his side and resting her head against his bicep. Bending down, he pressed a gentle kiss to the side of her head, leaving his lips lingering there and speaking in low, hushed tones.

‘Everything okay?’

She shook her head. Twisting her head, she pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips, before moving to his ear. ‘We need to talk.’

‘So, how do we choose our rooms?’ Kagami asked, stepping forward to stand beside Félix.

‘First come, first served,’ the taller girl mumbled.

They all looked at each other, the moment of understanding clear, as everyone moved. Adrien grabbed Hermione’s hand and charged towards the door, into the cabin. He knew exactly what he was looking for…a room with two beds.

Inside, the air was musty and thick with the scent of old wood. The floorboards creaked underfoot, some so warped that they sloped unevenly. A single stone fireplace dominated one wall filled with soot and debris. The faint remnants of old fires lingered in the air, mixing with the smell of stale wood and earth.

The furniture was sparse, worn, and faded. A rickety wooden table stood in the center of the room, its surface scratched and marked from years of use. A few mismatched chairs lined the walls, their legs uneven, their fabric frayed. Surprisingly though, it seemed pretty clean, and oddly comforting.

Moving down the hallway, Draco continued to drag Hermione. He pushed each door open, each revealing double bed after double bed. Continuing on, he prayed at least one of the rooms would give him a break and, if couldn’t deliver on the two singles, then at least a room with a double big enough they could sleep on opposite sides without touching.

Draco’s grip tightened as he hoisted Hermione over his shoulder, the playful gleam in his eyes reflecting the mischievous energy in the air. She let out a squeal, her hands flailing in protest, but there was no escaping him now.

‘Draco,’ she hissed quietly under her breath. ‘I swear to Merlin, put me down!’ She thrashed lightly, her protests mixing with giggles, and the sound of her voice made Draco grin even wider.

‘No chance, Granger,’ he teased, his voice low but amused, as he maneuvered through the corridors. ‘You’ve got no say in the matter. We’re racing, remember?’

The others were still far behind, the sounds of shouting and laughter, making him smile more. This place might seem like a dump, but he had to admit, only a couple of minutes in and he was already having fun.

Reaching the end of the corridor, he opened the final door, thanking Merlin that there was a bed the size of two doubles sitting proudly in the middle of the room. He paused only once they reached the bed, his grin spreading even further.

‘Alright, alright,’ he said, a touch of drama in his voice as he finally dropped her onto the mattress, though he made sure it was a soft landing. Hermione let out a surprised yelp, then burst out laughing as she rolled over onto her back, staring up at the ceiling.

‘I’m wearing a skirt, you asshole!’

Draco quickly pulled his hoodie from over his head and placed it over her legs.

‘Is that better?’ Draco quirked an eyebrow, still hovering above her with a look that suggested he wasn’t done just yet.

‘You’re impossible,’ Hermione groaned, but there was no mistaking the playfulness in her voice as she pushed herself up onto her forearms. ‘I’ll get you back for that, Malfoy.’

‘You’ll try,’ he shot back, standing and crossing his arms with a smirk that said it all—he was enjoying every moment of this, and he had no intention of letting her have the last word just yet. ‘And the name’s Agreste, remember.’

Moving away from the bed, he headed back to the door and started to close it, dropping a quick wink to Luka just because he wanted to. He walked around the room, taking in their abode for the next couple of days.

It was an unexpected contrast to the battered, weathered exterior of the cabin. The air was fresh, with only a faint trace of the mustiness from the rest of the cabin lingering.

The walls were simple, painted in a soft, neutral tone that reflected the light filtering through the partially intact windows. Unlike the dust-caked windows in the rest of the cabin, these were clean, their glass sparkling with clarity, letting in the warmth of the sun and casting a gentle glow across the room. The shutters, though still slightly crooked, were secured, allowing just the right amount of daylight to bathe the room in a warm, golden hue.

The bed itself was the centrepiece—large and inviting, with a sturdy wooden frame that seemed far more well-maintained than anything else in the cabin. The bedspread, a simple but soft quilt, was neatly arranged, its muted colors complementing the peaceful tone of the room. The pillows, fluffed and neatly placed, gave the impression of comfort without excess. There were no wrinkles in the sheets, no signs of disarray—everything was orderly, untouched by the neglect that had plagued the rest of the cabin.

A small nightstand stood beside the bed, its surface clean, holding a single candle in a weathered holder, its wax slowly dripping down in graceful, delicate lines. A few books were stacked neatly, their spines worn but loved. There was no clutter—just the sense that this room had been prepared for comfort.

In one corner, a soft armchair sat, tucked against the wall, with a small woven throw draped over the back. A few framed paintings, faded with time but clearly cared for, hung on the walls, adding a personal touch to the otherwise quiet room.

There was also an ensuite, a bonus given the place didn’t even look like it had working plumbing.

‘Not gonna lie, Kid, when we arrived here I thought someone was trying to kill you all off.’ Draco laughed as Plagg flew around the room, studying the nooks and crannies, Tikki coming out to join him.

‘I’ve been in worse places.’ Hermione laughed, standing from the bed and walking towards him. The sun caught her hair as she moved, giving her soft honey highlights he’d never noticed before. They shimmered in the sunlight, drawing his attention to her face, where stray strands had fallen over her eyes. Then he was on a journey. He took in her cropped top and short skirt, and couldn’t draw his eyes away from the smoothness of her legs. Where the hell had she been hiding those all this time?

‘My eyes are up here, Draco.’

As though he’d been slapped, Draco glanced up into her eyes, noticing how they were dancing and matching the pull of her lips perfectly.

‘Do you know you just called me Draco?’

Her lips dropped, her eyes widening, before she turned away and headed towards the table under the window. ‘I, er, I don’t know what you mean.’

‘Oh, I’m quite certain you do, Granger.’

She shrugged. ‘It was a slip of the tongue.’

‘Sure,’ he nodded sarcastically. He headed towards the door, opening it again and turning back to her. His eyes ran down her back. Geez, had she always had such a great ass? Plagg coughed, his eyes widening at Draco’s obvious action, as Tikki looked like she was going to blow him up to the moon or something.

‘I’ll, er, I’ll just go and get the bags–’

‘No!’ Hermione shouted, turning around so quickly he thought she was going to give herself whiplash. ‘No,’ she repeated, this time a lot more calmly. ‘I’ll come with you. It wouldn’t be fair for you to get them alone.’ She looked terrified. What did she think he was going to do? Tip all her clothing into the lake.

He watched her as she moved forward, passing him in the doorway and taking the corridor like a model on a catwalk. Her hips swayed and his eyes moved down once again. He should not be looking at her in this way. He didn’t like her like that…but he knew a fine body when he saw one, and she had one of the best he’d ever seen. He wondered if he could convince her to wear an outfit like this out to Hogsmeade one day, but then, the thoughts of Theo, Goyle or Blaise seeing her like this made his skin crawl.

A cough in his ear almost deafened him as Plagg once again drew his attention away from Hermione’s ass and to the job at hand. He followed after her like a lost puppy, only to be abruptly stopped by Luka with a female he was almost certain he hadn’t seen with the others this morning.

‘Marinette. Adrien. This is Cerise, from my music class, the one I’ve been telling you about. She wasn’t sure she could make it, but luckily she managed to swap some things around.’

Hermione greeted Cerise with a hug, doing her best to replicate the warmth of Marinette’s embrace. But Draco didn’t move, his gaze sharp, fixed, and calculating. He studied Cerise, his mind racing. If there was one thing Draco had learned over the years, it was to recognise evil in all its forms. Evil spells, cursed objects, treacherous people. And the girl standing before them? She exuded the unmistakable aura of a glorified Death Eater—one so potent, so oppressive, that it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

He could feel the weight of it in the air, like a storm brewing just beyond the horizon. It wasn’t just a feeling; it was instinct, a warning he'd long learned to heed. But Hermione was oblivious, caught up in the illusion of camaraderie, her smile wide and trusting. Draco's jaw tightened.

Cerise’s smile was almost too sweet, too perfect, and it made his stomach churn. He didn’t trust it, not for a second. Every step she took closer to them felt like it was closing in on something dangerous, something that would not be easy to escape.

‘Marinette,’ Cerise said, her voice a melodic purr. ‘I’m so excited to finally meet you. Luka speaks about you non-stop.’ Her eyes flicked to Draco, and there was a glint in them—a knowing, almost predatory gleam. It was subtle, but Draco didn’t miss it.

Hermione chuckled, a bit nervous. ‘Does he, now? I hope it’s all been good.’

Draco examined Luka, wondering if he had any idea of the evil this girl possessed. But his pinkened cheeks, and flustered expression made it clear he hadn’t a clue.

Cerise’s smile widened. ‘All good. He adores you, and I can already see why.’ She glanced at Draco again, her gaze lingering for just a moment too long. It sent a chill down his spine. ‘And Adrien, you’re just as handsome in real life as on your posters.’

Draco’s instincts screamed to say something—anything—but he held his tongue. If she was truly as dangerous as he felt, any misstep could be fatal.

Hermione, clearly oblivious to the undercurrents swirling between them, smiled brightly, clapping her hands together in an infuriatingly positive way. ‘So, are you ready to start having some fun?’

Cerise stood taller, her eyes never leaving Draco’s, a slow smile tugging at her lips. ‘Oh, I think we’ve already started.’

Draco’s hand twitched towards where his wand would usually rest in his pocket, the absence a hole in his grip, a reminder of how vulnerable he was without it—how exposed he felt in this moment.

‘Well, I best get unpacked,’ she said. ‘I’m looking forward to getting to know you both a whole lot more over the next couple of days.’

And with that, the tension in the room thickened, like a suffocating fog, as she headed, with Luka, down the corridor and into the bedroom next to theirs.

Chapter Text

Adrien

Adrien had never wished for many things in his life. He’d always been grateful for what he’d been given and for what he’d earned. He never wished to win his fencing tournaments, he’d worked hard and came out on top. He never wished to be famous, he was lucky to have a father who was in an industry that pushed him there. And, after a year of grieving, he never wished for his mother back, knowing full well the extent of such a wish. But right now, for the first time in his life, he wished for something. He wished he could go back in time and figure out why Marinette had done him so wrong.

She hated liars with a passion. She hated Lila for this reason. She hated Chloé for the way she treated people—the disregard and humiliations. However, like most people he knew, Marinette was living by double standards.

Marinette had lied to him. Twice. In two different forms. How the hell she had continued their relationship with this kind of knowledge was beyond him. Though, looking at it now, it was proof of how little she actually cared. Because you can’t treat someone like this and love them…the two just didn’t go together.

‘Sweet treats are good for heartache. I read about it in a magazine.’

Since the conversation in the library, Adrien had found himself sticking with Luna. Though it was causing ridiculing from other Slytherins, she was the only one who knew about his out of body experience, and thanks to his outburst, she also knew about the heartbreak caused by the girl he thought had mended it. Luna had met him before the train ride, sat with him on the train, and now she was leading him around, introducing him to all the weird and wonderful places within this world.

Starting with Honeydukes.

As he stepped inside, the world outside seemed to fade away. The air was thick with the sugary scent of chocolate, caramel, and something sparkly, like powdered sugar dusting the atmosphere. His eyes immediately began to take in the rainbow of candies that stretched across every shelf, their bright colours like something from a fantastical dream.

His gaze was drawn to the boxes labelled Chocolate Frogs, their gold-wrapping a promise of a delightful surprise inside. Moving forward, Adrien took one from the shelf to examine it.

‘Did you know the Chocolate Frogs used to hop around the store before they were enchanted to stay still?’ Luna’s voice was dreamy and whimsical, and Adrien couldn’t help but smile at the way she tilted her head, examining a nearby shelf with a peculiar look in her eyes.

‘Really?’ Adrien chuckled, glancing at the box in his hand.

Luna smiled mysteriously, her pale blue eyes twinkling. ‘Yep, but I like to think that if you whisper to them, they might just hop again. They have a little bit of magic left in them, after all.’

He laughed, shaking his head in amusement, then allowed his gaze to wander. His eyes landed on the bright pink jelly worms that wobbled gently in their container, and his curiosity piqued.

‘Luna, have you ever tried a jelly worm?" he asked, holding up the container and raising an eyebrow.

Her eyes lit up, her expression turning serious. ‘Oh, yes! I think they’re best when you let them wiggle in your hand for a moment before eating them. They taste better that way.’

He placed them back down. Skimming his eyes over the room, before they landed on Crispy Lovebugs, cute red and black beetles around the size of an M&M. He made his way over to them and lifted them up, unable to stop the sigh of a broken heart.

‘There’s nothing wrong with still wanting her,’ Luna’s soft voice said from beside him. ‘It’s hard to tell the heart it doesn’t want something when it’s been waiting for it so badly for its entire life.’

‘It was a lie though. I wanted someone she’s not. I wanted the vision of the girl I thought I knew.’

She took the box of Lovebugs out of his hands and put them back with the others on the shelf. ‘How do you know you didn’t know her? Have you never told a lie before?’

Adrien shrugged. ‘Well, yeah, but this is…this changes my life Luna. She changed my life. If she’d just told me–’

‘You’d have still broken up with her. You have a lot of healing to do, and it’s not just Marinette you need to heal from. You know what they say, you have to fall apart to grow back together.’

The words circled around in his head, nothing being able to make sense of them. Could they grow back together? He wasn’t too sure. This was a pain he’d never experienced, one he never wanted to experience again. If they did get back together, would that be a certainty she wouldn’t lie again? Because right now, he didn’t trust her at all.

‘Come on. You need some cheering up, and I know exactly what could do that.’ Grabbing his hand, Luna dragged him out of Honeydukes and down the street to a place called The Three Broomsticks.

Adrien pushed the door open, the warmth and noise of the bustling pub hitting him immediately. The smell of something sweet and something deliciously spiced filled the air, the crackling of the fire in the hearth adding to the cosy, welcoming atmosphere. Wooden beams lined the ceiling, and flickering candlelight gave the room a soft, amber glow. The murmur of laughter and chatter was all around, the low hum of students and witches and wizards alike enjoying their time together with friends.

But his smile soon faded as his eyes scanned the room, a knot tightening in his chest. At first, he barely noticed the laughter around him, the clink of glasses, or the warmth of the fire. His focus was narrowed on the corner booth, where Marinette sat laughing with Ron, Harry and Ron’s sister. The group was in high spirits, the sound of their jovial conversation rising above the general din of the pub.

Marinette’s laughter rang out, a sound he had once found so comforting, but now it cut through him like a dagger. She had never laughed like that when they were together, not like this, not with such freedom. There was something too easy, too natural about it, as though she had left everything behind, everything they had been through, everything they had promised. How could she be so happy when he was still drowning in the lies she had told him?

The warmth of the pub turned cold in Adrien’s chest as he stared at her, at how her eyes sparkled with something that was not meant for him. She was so comfortable, her hand resting casually on the table as she joked with Ron, her smile bright and unguarded. Ron’s infectious grin made her laugh even harder, and Adrien clenched his fists, his heart pounding with a mixture of pain and disbelief.

The hurt, the betrayal, and the confusion twisted inside him, too much to bear in the moment. He turned away, the door closing softly behind him as he stepped back out into the chill of the afternoon air, needing to get away from the warmth that now felt like a mocking reminder of everything he had lost.

‘Malfoy.’ Luna was shouting after him. But right now, he wanted to be alone. Away from everything, especially Marinette. He walked without thought. Moving swiftly through the throngs of people and out of the busily village. Turning down an alleyway, he was happy to see blooming trees, blossoms starting to grow on the edges of branches.

‘Adrien.’ A soft voice sounded behind him, and he closed his eyes. He wasn’t ready for this. ‘Adrien, please. Talk to me. Shout at me. Do anything…just please.’

Her voice surrounded his heart, making it beat in a different rhythm the way it always did when she was around. She had too much of an effect on him, too much of a hold.

‘Adrien,’ she said again. Her voice breaking as she spoke.

Adrien turned around, everything inside him shattering as he regarded her. Tears stained her face, morphing it into the complete opposite he’d just seen as she sat with her friends.

‘Go back to your friends, Marinette.’

‘No. We need to talk. We need to discuss this.’

He shook his head, rage boiling inside him. ‘No, we don’t. You made a choice, so now I’m making mine.’

‘So you’re just ending it,’ she stammered. ‘After everything we’ve been through. You’re not going to fight for us.’

‘I don’t know what I’m fighting for anymore.’

The sounds of birds tweeting filled the silence as they stood face to face. She looked as though he’d hit her, her face shocked, mouth hanging open. She went to speak, stopping quickly and closing her mouth, her arms wrapping around her body.

‘You’re fighting for us.’ Her voice was small, barely audible in the rustle of the wind through the trees.

‘That’s the problem, Marinette. I’ve spent so long fighting for us, I don’t think I have anything left to give. You tell me you did it for my father because he asked you to. But what about me? What about what I would want?’

Marinette stepped forward, his own feet taking him back, away from her. ‘It was more than that. It was Nathalie too. I watched her die, Adrien. I watched Nathalie die, then had to deal with your father who was trying to kill me. He could have traded me for your mother, he could have brought her back, but he didn’t. He knew you’d be okay.’

Adrien could have laughed. Okay? How the hell was he okay? He was everything but okay! He didn’t even know who he was anymore. His head spun, and he needed to get out of there, get away from her.

‘I’m not okay, Marinette, and I’m not sure I will be for a long time. I’ve got to go.’

Keeping his eyes off her, he walked forward, passing her and heading back towards the train station. He wanted to get back to the castle and crash in his room. His heart was broken and his soul was empty–but worse of all, he still wanted her. He still wanted his Marinette.

Chapter Text

Hermione

The living room buzzed with laughter and chatter as the group sprawled across the floor and couches, the telltale black-and-white cards of Cards Against Humanity scattered in messy piles.

Ever since they’d been introduced to Cerise, Hermione found Draco had become a permanent shadow. If she was in the kitchen talking to someone he was there needing an urgent glass of water. If she was going to the bedroom to change into something warmer, he suddenly felt cold too. Anytime Luka was around her, he effortlessly slotted into her side. Possessive and pissing on his territory.

And she hadn’t got a clue why.

She’d asked him about it, but instead of giving her a straight answer, Draco was back to playing his old tricks and giving her the brash, standoff answers she’d grown accustomed to back at Hogwarts. She thought they’d gotten past that, that they were making amends and creating a new relationship—obviously not.

Nino shuffled the deck, grinning. ‘Alright, people. Prepare to lose any remaining dignity.’

‘Oh no,’ Mylène murmured, giggling from her spot next to Ivan, who had already gone a little pink.

It’d taken a while to find out everyone’s names, but it was almost as though Alix knew the difficulty, making sure she said everyone’s names when they were in a room together.

Hermione settled cross-legged on the carpet, trying not to fidget under Cerise’s sharp gaze from across the circle. Every time their eyes met, the newcomer’s lips quirked with the faintest hint of something Hermione couldn’t quite pin down—mockery, maybe? Or maybe she was imagining it.

She’d tried to be friendly to Cerise, greeting her with warmth as Marinwtte would, welcoming hugs and open arms into the group. Not that Hermione thought Marinette was a leader or anything, but a lot did seem to take their cues from her. However it seemed Marinette was Cerise’s public enemy number one, and Draco, well, it was obvious she was a bit of a fangirl of Adrien Agreste.

‘Okay, first black card.’ Nino drew it, reading aloud with exaggerated seriousness. ‘What’s the new fad among Parisian teens?’

The sounds of snorts echoed through the group, everyone finding a possible answer for the question. She glanced at Draco, studying him as he just looked completely confused.

Before they’d started playing there were already jokes about Sunshine boy and that he probably had no idea how to play this game—but they had no idea how right they were. The reasoning wasn’t innocence, it was more that Draco Malfoy didn’t surround himself with silly muggle games. He hadn’t got a clue what this was, or what to do.

‘Oh, I’ve got this,’ Alix snorted, rifling through her cards.

As everyone picked their answers, Draco stayed unusually quiet, leaning against the couch with his arms crossed. Hermione tried not to glance his way too often, but the tight set of his jaw and the way he kept his eyes on his cards felt... off.

‘Adrien?’ She nudged, her voice tentative. ‘You okay?’

‘I’m fine,’ he said quickly, not looking at her. ‘Just… picking my card.’

She blinked at his clipped tone, her stomach sinking a little.

‘Here, I’ll pick for you if you’re so indecisive,’ Cerise offered sweetly, plucking a card from Draco’s hand before he could protest and tossing it onto the pile. ‘I’m sure this one’s just perfect.’

He shot her a glare but said nothing.

As Nino shuffled the answers, Hermione turned to Cerise. ‘You didn’t have to—‘

‘Oh, Marinette, don’t be so sensitive,’ Cerise interrupted with a laugh that sounded like condescension dipped in honey. ‘I’m just helping. You don’t need to make such a big deal out of nothing.’

Hermione’s cheeks flamed. ‘I—’

‘Don’t worry,’ Cerise added, smiling with fake sweetness. ‘I’m sure no one thinks you’re overreacting. Right, guys?’

There was an awkward silence.

‘Uh, let’s just read the cards,’ Alya suggested, eyes flicking between them.

But Hermione noticed Draco’s silence most of all—and how he didn’t meet her eyes. His jaw was clenched tightly and he looked as though he was going to start throwing the cards like some kind of ninja star.

‘Hey, Adrien, how about coming to help me get a drink?’

Draco glanced at her puzzled. ‘I, er, sure?’

Hermione rolled her eyes, he could at least look a little more certain about it. She pushed herself to standing before offering her hand out to him. He placed his cards down on the side table beside him, slipping his hand in hers to stand up. As their skin met, she felt the zing through her body, pooling in the pit of her stomach. Her heart raced as he stood, his eyes firmly connected with hers.

They walked, hand in hand, into the kitchen. Hermione’s heart fluttered with every step. His hands were warm, and big, the feeling different from how Ron’s felt. In comparison, Draco’s were soft whereas Ron’s were rough from all the work he’d done in the Burrow. Draco’s skin oozed wealth and well being, and she didn’t know if she was intrigued or annoyed by it.

She glanced down at where their hands were joined, his pale skin bright against the tanned tones of her own. Her thumb began to move, trialing itself over the Miraculous ring, thoughts pushing, her mind over ran with visions of his own, the one he always wore displaying his family crest. She tried to remember when she’d last seen him wear it. But since coming back from their summer break, post-war, she failed to place it. Had he been making a stand against his father? Or had she simply not noticed?

The kitchen was surprisingly warm, and full of rustic charm, even with its outdated design and old fashioned appliances. The cabinets were solid wood, their dark-stained surfaces showing signs of age — a few scratches and scuffs here and there. Above the sink, a window framed with simple gingham, overlooked the forest outside.

The countertops were laminate with a faded, speckled pattern, and the backsplash was made of square, earth-toned tiles that’d darkened with age. A vintage enamel stove with chipped edges sat proudly in one corner, next to an old, slightly humming fridge in an off-white colour.

As soon as they were inside, the door closing behind them, she dropped his hand and headed straight to the fridge. Yanking the door open, Hermione stretched inside and pulled out a bottle of water, trying to regain some composure as the cool air hit her face. She should not be thinking about Draco Malfoy’s soft, obviously moisturised hands, not when there were more pressing matters in front of her, such as Cerise.

‘Drink?’ she asked, peering over her shoulder at him. He had one hand in the other, twisting it around almost as though he had a cramp. His face was screwed up, and his eyes were fixed on his actions.

He didn’t answer. His eyebrows frowned more.

‘Malfoy?’ He jumped and scanned the room before his eyes fell on her. ‘Did you forget I was in the room or something?’

Malfoy dropped his hand and moved next to her, bending low to scan the fridge. ‘Or something,’ he muttered under his breath, reaching out for a Kronenbourg.

Taking the bottle with him, Draco made his way to the opposite side of the kitchen where a novelty bottle opener was attached to the wall. Uncapping the bottle, he lifted the bottle to his lips, her attention following its movement. She studied him, properly studied him. His face had changed and developed as he’d gotten older. When they’d been first years, he was still holding some childish attributes: a rounded face, a lanky body, slicked back hair. But now, well, he was tall but no longer slim. His body had filled out, and if the rumours were true that was linked to additional Quidditch training he’d been taking up over the summer. His face had lost the curves and instead became sharp and pronounced: sharp jaw and even sharper cheekbones, and his hair had changed, becoming freer and less accurate. Hermione couldn’t deny liking it, it suited him more.

‘What do you think of Cerise? She’s eyeing you like her next meal.’ Hermione placed her own bottle to her lips, taking a quick gulp whilst keeping her eyes on Draco. She watched for any reaction linked to Slytherin’s playboy, only to see him visibly flinch.

‘There’s something off with her, something I don’t trust.’

‘Yeah,’ Hermione agreed. She’d been on edge all evening. Every glance from Cerise made her feel uncomfortable and examined. ‘I haven’t felt so on edge since Umbridge.’

Draco scoffed, taking another drink from his bottle. ‘You can go face to face with Voldermort, a troll and a giant snake, but give you a short woman, obsessed with pink and kitty cats, and you’re afraid.’

‘You know as much as I do, that woman is pure evil!’

‘I dunno,’ Draco smirked, ‘she liked me!’

He took another drink, yet his eyes seemed to dull. It was true. Umbridge did like him, but she liked him for the wrong reasons. Draco was liked for being a Death Eater's son, for displaying the traits of a dark wizard himself.

Just another person to groom him for the Dark Lord. The thought almost had her stumbling back. When had she ever considered Draco Malfoy a victim?

‘So,’ she continued. ‘Cerise? What do you think?’

‘I think she’s got it out for you, H,’ Draco said, placing the bottle down on the counter.

‘That she has.’

The door opened, and they found themselves joined by another. Fear twisted her stomach as she looked at a smug Alix.

‘Hey, no need to worry. I know more than you think.’

‘And what do we think?’ Draco asked.

Alix shrugged, heading past them both and towards the fridge. She was delaying her answer, increasing the nervous energy between the two of them as they waited. Slowly, she closed the door, untwisting the cap from the bottle of water in her hand and bouncing her gaze between them both as she had a drink.

‘Oh, come on!’ Draco burst out. ‘You've been giving me weird looks since the car journey this morning. What do you know?’

‘You know, Adrien’s temper isn’t that short, Draco!’

This time Hermione did stumble back, her eyes glued to Draco as his reaction wasn’t much different. His face had grown impossibly paler. His expression as though he’d just been stupefied.

‘What did you call me?’ His voice was low, but she picked up on the edge. The slight tremble.

‘You, my friend, are Draco Malfoy, and this here is the lovely Hermione Granger. You two make quite the pair.’ Alix chuckled, moving to hop onto a barstool at the breakfast counter.

‘It’s nice to meet you both, by the way. I’ve been waiting for this day for a while.’

Hermione exchanged a quick glance with Draco.

‘And why would you think that?’ Hermoine said, crossing her arms over her chest and glancing at Draco. They might not have their wands but if something did start to go wrong at least they had the Miraculous to help them.

‘Relax,’ Alix said, gesturing to the seats around them. ‘I’m on your side. You can trust me. I’m amazing at keeping secrets.’

‘Oh, really?’ Draco queried. ‘And why would that be?’

Alix reached into her pocket, Hermione and Draco freezing as they waited to see what she did next. But anxiety passed easily as she pulled out a small, metal pocket watch.

‘As you know, the Miraculous all have a power of their own. Mine’s just super special.’

‘And why’s that?’ Hermione asked, moving to sit opposite Alix at the counter.

She flicked it open, a hologram appearing from it of two people in Hogwarts uniform. Their uniform. But the only problem was, it wasn’t them. The boy with wild hair stood in front of a shorter one with pigtails. They were shouting at each other, the girl crying as the aggressiveness of the guy increased. They were having an argument and a tense one at that.

‘They’ll be okay,’ Alix said, closing the pocket watch and smiling between Draco and Hermione. ‘Eventually.’

‘At least they look like us,’ Hermione scoffed, looking at Draco for re confirmation, yet none came. ‘Draco?’

He shrugged. ‘We haven’t argued like that in years. Some people would find it strange.’

Hermione gazed at him, curiously. How would he remember that? ‘Well, I don’t think people would be confused by us arguing. It’s not like we’re friends.’

‘Ouch!’ he replied, placing a hand to his heart. ‘Way to stab me in the heart, Granger. And here I was thinking we were bff’s now.’

‘Maybe Marinette will punch him. That seems more like your speed.’ Alix dropped them a wink. ‘Anyway, there’s a lot left to happen, for both of you, before you’ll be able to go back. You’re lucky you both know each other’s identities in and out the masks, so you can support each other in a way these two have never been able to.’ She held the pocket watch loft as though it was some kind of holy grail.

‘So, what is your power?’ Draco asked.

‘Time travel, universe travel…I can pretty much go where and when I want…within reason.’ Alix hopped off the barstool and began to head back to the doorway which led to the lounge. ‘Just go with the flow and have fun, everything will happen when it needs to. Believe me. I know your past, present and future.’

There was something rather terrifying by the way she announced that.

‘But, like I always say to Marinette, listen to your gut. That first instinct, for both of you, is usually the right one.’

The serious tone remained with them as she exited, sounds of laughter and cheers creeping through the slit in the door.

‘Should we trust her?’ Draco asked, both of them watching as the door clicked shut.

Hermione slid off the bar stool and headed to the doorway. Her hand froze on the wood, not yet ready to push it open.

‘I don’t see why we shouldn’t. She knew who we were.’

Tikki flew out from one of the cupboards, little crumbs nestled around her mouth. Someone had obviously been in the cookie jar. ‘Alix is trustworthy. What she says, though sometimes a little confusing, is usually right.’

‘What do you think of Cerise, little spot?’

The kwami, already red in colour, turned impossibly darker at the cheeks. Hermione’s heart betrayed her as she watched Draco talking to the kwami. He’d given her a nickname, a cute and adorable nickname that just didn’t fit right with Draco Malfoy and his cool exterior.

‘She reminds me of a girl that went to school with them a couple of years ago. Such a snake.’

Plagg appeared, flying near Tikki and looking directly at the doorway. ‘We could always keep a look out for you.’

Hermione thought about the implications of them doing such a thing. If they got caught this could spell trouble not just for them, but for Marinette and Adrien as well. But this girl, there was just something about her, something similar to what Hermione had read in Marinette’s diary.

‘Tikki? What was the name of that girl? The one from a couple of years ago.’

Plagg moved forward, eyes wide. ‘Are you talking about —’ as Plagg went to finish the sentence bubbles exploded from his mouth. His eyes went impossibly wider.

‘What the hell was that?’ Draco asked, holding a hand out for the kwami to settle on.

‘That is when a kwami can’t speak a holder's name.’

Hermione mirrored Draco's action, allowing Tikki to settle in her hand.

‘So this girl—’

‘Lila,’ Hermione said. That made sense. She’d read about her in Marinette’s diary, a clear hatred between the girls and Lila’s need to have Adrien. Everything that was described was how Hermione was feeling, and she was certain of it. Without an ounce of doubt.

‘So, this Lila, what do we know about her so far?’ Draco asked, moving to a stool and settling on it, Hermione mirroring his actions.

They both placed the kwamis down on the table, voices lowered and heads together.

‘She hated Marinette, and loved Adrien,’ Tikki whispered, bouncing between everyone’s faces.

‘She was a pathological liar,’ Plagg continued. ‘She’d go out of her way to make Marinette look like she was a liar, and a bully.’

‘But Marinette has such close friends?’ Draco said, the beer he’d just drank floating from his mouth and insulting her nostrils. She winced, Draco raising an eyebrow in question.

Tikki shrugged. ‘That’s what was confusing. Everyone turned against Marinette, thinking she was just jealous of Lila’s ‘relationship’ with Adrien. Until the truth finally came out.’

‘So…they were together? Lila and Adrien?’ Draco’s face was almost comical as everything about it grew in size. Eyes, nose, mouth.

Hermione chuckled. ‘Luckily for you, no they weren’t. She just thought they would be, or at least that’s what Marinette’s diary says.’

Plagg nodded. ‘She was obsessed with him, but the kid went out his way to defend Marinette, blackmailing–’ bubbles ‘and standing at Marinette’s side.’

‘They’ve always been a team, even out of the suits.’ Draco said it so factually it was as though he was Adrien. Hermione was really enjoying this side of him, and wished that’d had it during those few years battling evil. He would have been a much better ally than foe.

She’d found herself stuck, staring at him, and as he stared back she almost fell off the stool from the intensity of it. He looked at her, truly looked at her as though she was Marinette and he was Adrien, a connection starting to buzz and crackle between them.

The cold icy blues she was used to seeing had warmed, the flickers of darker shades looking as though he was carrying the depth of a storm within them. Yet there was a softness there too — a quiet kind of warmth she hadn’t noticed before. It was the way his gaze settled on her, steady and sure, like she was something worth anchoring to. The flickers of darker shades danced through his eyes, but they no longer spoke of distance or cold; they spoke of something gentler. Something almost… tender.

Then he blinked and whatever had taken over him vanished, leaving him looking like the boy she’d always known — guarded, distant, his walls snapping back into place. The warmth in his eyes disappeared so quickly she almost wondered if she’d imagined it.

‘What do we do then?’ he said, his voice quiet but firm, and when he turned away to converse with the kwamis, it left her with the strange ache of something unfinished. Something unsaid. She wanted his eyes back on her—only for her!

‘Play her at her own game. If it is—’ bubbles ‘she’ll already be three steps ahead of you both. You’re going to have to be smart about this, because there has to be a reason she’s here after two years of silence.’

‘Because she knows something,’ Draco said. ‘Just think about it H, we’ve been through evil far worse than this and we know how it works. The villain only ever attacks—’

‘When it has a reason to.’

She finished for him. The weight of the words was a terrifying truth. Everytime Voldermort reappeared there was a reason for it, a weakness he tried to abuse. A power he was desperate to absorb. So what was their weakness now? Did she know they weren’t who they were making themselves out to be? Or was there something deeper going on between Adrien and Marinette to rip apart their relationship?

‘Most attacks happen through people before the main villain reveals themselves. So, who is Cerise using?’

They all edged in closer.

‘We figure that out first then regroup,’ Draco said. He was leading with such confidence Hermione couldn’t stop the smile.

‘So, what’s the plan?’ Plagg asked, his eyes focusing on Draco.

‘We need to—’

The door burst open with a crack that ricocheted through the room, and the next moments unravelled like a fever dream—or nightmare.

Before she could even react, his hand was at the back of her neck, firm and commanding, dragging her closer until her body bent awkwardly over the counter. His lips crashed against hers, for the second time that day, with a force that stole her breath away, the impact, so fierce, sent a shockwave through her.

Her eyes fluttered shut, surrendering to the heat of his kiss—soft and smooth, tinged with the bitter taste of beer. It was intoxicating, far more delicious than it had any right to be.

She tilted her head without thinking, deepening the kiss as need coiled tight in her belly. His fingers threaded into her hair, tugging sharply and drawing a sharp, startled gasp from her lips. The sound only spurred him on—he pressed closer, seizing the small opening to slip his tongue past her parted lips, flicking and twisting against hers in a way that made her knees weaken.

The air grew thick, electric, and then—

A cough shattered the spell.

Draco wrenched away, turning his head toward the source of the interruption with infuriating calm. His fingers slid free from her hair as he leaned back in his seat, his expression shifting into a smug, lazy satisfaction—like a predator who had just claimed his prize. But while he engaged the intruder with that cool, collected demeanor, her body remained frozen, her eyes locked straight ahead as she struggled to catch her breath—and to suppress the shiver still dancing along her skin.

The world around her faded into a distant blur, every sound and movement drowned out by the one undeniable truth crashing through her mind. She had just made out with Draco Malfoy—and the worst possible thing had happened…

…she’d liked it.

Chapter Text

Marinette

The return from Hogsmeade was excruciating. From the moment Adrien had stormed away, her whole world had crashed around her, leaving her in a far worse place than she’d been a day ago.

It had been so final. He’d been so angry. And she couldn’t blame him. Her feeble excuses, the excuses she’d told herself time and time again were nothing more than pathetic now. She hadn’t considered him in a way she should have. Instead of allowing him to experience the pain and hurt, but ultimately allowing him to decide what he wanted, she had tried to protect him. Making the choice for him had been the wrong decision, regardless of what she’d thought at the time.

She couldn’t focus. Her feet led her through the courtyards and back into the castle ready for dinner. As she walked, she couldn’t stop her eyes wandering around, looking for Adrien the way she had so many times in the past couple of days.

Eyes scanning the Ravenclaw table, Marinette slowed her walk, looking for the blonde girl she’d seen Adrien with. Apparently her name was Luna Lovegood, a little bit of a loner but a major part of Dumbledore's Army (an army built of Hogwarts students and led by Harry, Ron and Hermione) during the great war.

She just needed to find a way in. A way to get Adrien to listen, to let him know exactly how sorry she was and Luna was her only option at the moment.

Unfortunately, her search was futile. There were no signs of Luna on the table anyway, and a quick glance over at the Slytherin table told her Adrien wasn’t here either. Deflated, she headed towards the Gryffindor table, settling in next to Harry and Ginny.

Attention elsewhere, as she continued to search the crowds for Adrien.

‘Hermione? Hermione?’

Her head snapped up. ‘Sorry,’ she stuttered, ‘what did you say?’

Ginny shook her head. ‘It’s okay. We’ll see you both later, yeah? Rematch at exploding snap?’

‘Yeah,’ Marinette said, her attention pulled over her shoulder as laughing was heard from the Slytherin table.

No familiar blond hair.

‘He’s not there,’ Ron said. ‘Harry said Slytherin have called an extra Quidditch practise for this evening. Something about wanting to keep the lead while they have it.’

‘Oh!’ Marinette turned back to the table and grabbed a slice of bread. She placed it on her plate, poking the middle and watching it dent and rise. She sighed, her eyes peering over her shoulder again just in case Harry had been wrong and Adrien would be here.

‘Come on,’ Ron said, standing up suddenly and knocking the table. Marinette reached out, quickly grabbing the cup before it toppled over.

‘Where?’ she asked, Ron nodding his head towards the exit.

‘Let’s go for a walk.’

With one last look over at Slytherin, Marinette stood and followed Ron down the table and out of the Great Hall. He continued moving through the hallway, and out of the back entrance, leading them both onto a bridge. Silently, they continued walking, moving away from the castle and into the quiet gardens of the castle grounds, finally coming to a stop when they reached a bench.

Ron sat down, patting the seat beside him. ‘Listen, Hermione, I know we spoke earlier but…’ He took a moment to compose himself, to think about what he wanted to say. ‘But I’m worried about you. You ran out the Three Broomsticks, avoided us on the train back, and then you won’t stop looking for him. We’ve been through a lot together, please, just let me in.’

She glanced at the castle, shining bright and beautiful against the orange backdrop of a day’s end. She needed to let this out, and if anyone deserved to know about what was going on, it was Ron.

Deciding he’d been left in the dark for too long, Marinette took a deep breath and finally began to let it all out.

‘I’m not Hermione,’ she whispered, her voice low and anxious. ‘My name is Marinette. I’m a superhero, called Ladybug, from Paris.’

Ron stared at her, eyebrows climbing higher with every word. ‘Bloody hell, Hermione, no need to make stuff up! If you’re dating Malfoy, then just tell me.’

‘I’m not dating Malfoy — well, not technically.’ Marinette’s fingers twisted together, her words tumbling out faster. ‘Draco’s name is Adrien Agreste. He’s my superhero partner and…was my boyfriend. I don’t know how we got here, and I have zero idea how we’re getting back. But the creatures in the maze, they…they revealed something to Adrien which I’d been keeping secret and now he’s not talking to me.’

Ron’s mouth opened and closed soundlessly, his face frozen in a mixture of shock and disbelief. ‘You…you realise how mental this sounds, right?’

‘I know,’ she said, voice cracking. ‘But it’s the truth. I swear.’

‘And where are Hermione and Malfoy? Have you tied them up somewhere and locked them in the cupboard or are you sharing their body with them?’

Marinette swallowed past the lump in her throat, he wasn’t believing any of this. ‘We think they swapped places. With us.’

‘Which is where?’

‘Paris,’ she said quietly.

‘France?’

She nodded.

For a long moment, Ron just sat there, stunned into silence. Then he slowly ran a hand through his hair. ‘Okay. Let’s say I believe you — which, by the way, I don’t — but if I did…what kind of secret could possibly make Malfoy — I mean, Adrien — stop talking to you?’

Her throat tightened, and she looked away. ‘It’s…complicated. That creature—in the maze—showed something.’

‘Of course,’ Ron muttered. He shook his head, eyes still wide. ‘So you’re saying you’re a superhero. Malfoy’s your superhero boyfriend. When you went into the maze a Boggart aired out your dirty laundry. Did I miss anything?’

‘No, that about covers it.’

‘Right.’ Ron exhaled slowly, as if trying to process everything. ‘I’m gonna need a minute.’

He stood up, pacing backwards and forwards, her hands twisting tighter together. Every now and then he stopped, stared at her then carried on.

The silence stretched between them until he finally spoke again, his voice cautious but curious. ‘Okay…let’s say I’ve officially gone mad and I believe all of this. What are you going to do next?’

Her shoulders slumped, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. ‘I don’t know. I…I need to think of something. I have to fix this. Because without Adrien…without him, my life means nothing.’

Her voice broke on the last word, and she buried her face in her hands. ‘He’s everything to me. My partner, my best friend, the love of my life — and now he won’t even look at me. And if I don’t figure out how to make this right, I…I don’t know what I’ll do.’

Ron watched her, his expression softening at the sheer desperation in her voice. ‘We’ll figure it out,’ he said quietly. ‘You’re not alone in this, okay? We’ll find Adrien—and whatever’s going on, we’ll fix it.’

Chapter Text

Marinette

Ron and Marinette stepped through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room, the warm glow of the fireplace casting flickering shadows on the walls. Laughter and chatter filled the air, mingling with the crackling of the fire. It was one of those rare, quiet evenings when the chaos of Hogwarts seemed to have momentarily calmed.

But as they walked deeper into the room, that calm was swiftly shattered.

‘EXPLOOOOODE!’ Seamus’ voice rang out, followed by an echoing burst of laughter. Turning into the main living quarters Marinette stifled her giggle.

Dean’s face was covered in a haze of smoke and glittering confetti, his eyes wide with surprise as he scrambled to protect his half-built tower of cards. At the center of it all was a game of Exploding Snap—a game that, much like its name, rarely ended without a bang.

Ron snorted. ‘You know, it’s never just a game with those two.’

They’d spent a lot of time wandering the grounds before coming back to the common room. Marinette had filled Ron in on everything, from the first day she received her Miraculous and met Adrien, right to the point where she’d betrayed his trust and been called out by a boggart. There were a lot of bloody hell’s and blimey’s as they spoke, but Ron was a fantastic listener, allowing her to get it all off her chest without judgement or side taking. Well, there was no side to take. She was the one in the wrong here. Adrien had the right to be as angry as he wanted.

When Marinette had rounded up her story, Ron had unloaded his. Her heartbroke as he told her everything from the day he met Harry to when his brother died. Tears had been shed, and hugs had been given in abundance, and she didn’t care if Adrien saw, because Ron was hurting. He was broken. And as much as he was using Hermione to fill the gaping hole in his heart, she knew that’s all it was…and he did too.

Focusing on the game, Marinette grinned. This was chaotic, more so than the annual Cards Against Humanity tournament with her friends. ‘It’s kind of… magical, in its own way,’ she remarked, brushing a few stray hairs behind her ear. The last time she’d seen a card game this intense was at Kim’s birthday gathering back in Paris, but that didn’t involve cards that literally exploded.

Seamus gave them a lazy wave as he expertly snatched a card from the pile, flicking it towards Dean. A flash of sparks erupted from it, followed by a loud pop.

‘You’re on fire tonight, Finnigan,’ Ron teased, moving to take a seat near the window.

The pun stabbed her in the heart. That’s the kind of thing Chat would have said. So simple, so cheesy. God, she missed him. She stretched her smile more, not wanting anyone to ask her why she was currently crying over a game of exploding snap.

‘Tell me about it,’ Seamus said with a wink, tossing a handful of glitter at Dean’s head. ‘He can barely hold his cards without setting them off!’

Dean scowled but couldn't help laughing. ‘You just wait,’ he said, reaching for another card and placing it down. ‘One of these days, I’ll win.’

‘Yeah, right. You’ll have to get past my winning streak first.’

Marinette made her way to an empty chair in front of the fire, sitting down and tucking her feet underneath her. She glanced over at Ron, who was looking at the game with a half-amused, half-skeptical expression. ‘Should we join in?’ she asked, raising an eyebrow.

He shook his head, a laugh escaping him. ‘Maybe later. I value my fingers too much.’

The game erupted again into a flurry of colourful sparks and enthusiastic bickering. The evening had only just begun, but it already promised to be one for the books. Talking about books…

‘I forgot to check out the book for Transfiguration.’ Marinette looked around the room almost as though it would randomly appear in front of her.

‘The library will still be open.’ Ron stood from the arm of the chair he was sitting on. ‘Do you want me to come with you?’

She held out her hands, her lips turning up at the sides. ‘It’s fine. I’m a big girl, I can make it there and back without doing something silly.’

One of his eyebrows attempted to fly off his face.

Marinette laughed. ‘Stop! I promise I won’t do anything if I see you-know-who until we’ve properly planned.’

‘Good,’ Ron replied. ‘ but if you’re not back in thirty minutes, I’m coming after you.’

‘Deal.’ Marinette held out a hand, Ron joining them and giving them a big shake.

‘Deal.’ He repeated.

Without another word, Marinette made her way back to the portrait hole and called for the Fat Lady to open it. Climbing out slowly, she headed in the direction of the library. She’d been there a couple of times, but still the corridors all looked the same. Portraits that moved so you never knew if it was the same one as the one you passed a couple of halls ago, and stairs that moved freely and often.

She huffed, maybe she should have taken Ron up on the offer to come with her. They’d be done by now and she’d be on her way back to the dorms and into her bed, planning how she was going to get Adrien to talk to her for more than five minutes.

Maybe she could stupefy him, freezing him on the spot so he had no choice but to listen. She giggled, rounding the corner in what she believed was the way to the library when she walked straight into someone.

‘Sorry.’ Her apology came out rushed and full of remorse, her hand stretching out to the girl on the floor.

The Ravenclaw who Adrien had been hanging around with. She glanced around as she pulled the girl back onto her feet. Was Adrien here too?

‘He’s not here,’ Luna said, brushing her skirt down as she stood to her full height.

‘Oh,’ Marinette responded, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice. ‘I just… I thought maybe…never mind. Are you okay?’

Luna tilted her head, her wide, curious eyes settling on the girl. ‘I’m fine. You didn’t mean to knock me over. Things like that happen all the time.’ Luna smiled so sweetly. ‘He talks about you, you know?’

As though suddenly realising where they were and who she was, Marinette shook her head, clearing her thoughts. ‘Well, I am tutoring him.’

‘No,’ she said, dragging the word out as though there was more than one syllable. ‘No, that’s not why.’ She moved in closer, her eyes twinkling under the candle light. ‘I know,’ she whispered.

‘Know? Know, what?’

Luna glanced around. ‘Too many people are listening.’ She turned and walked away in the opposite direction. Marinette watched her, unsure if she should follow, or if that was the end of the conversation.

She twisted and turned. Go after her, or stay? After, or stay? After, or—

‘Isn’t it curious how the mind knows what it wants to do but argues with itself until a decision is made? The library will be quiet. We can talk.’ Luna smiled at her, staying, waiting.

Stalking forward, Marinette made her way beside her, the two of them heading down a staircase and towards the library.

Luna had been right. The library was quiet. There were a couple of students in front of the fire reading, some first years playing a game of Wizard’s chess, and a couple who were in a rather heated makeout in the Herbology section.

A couple more turns, and they were in a small section with a table and armchairs. Luna sat down on a chair and patted the one next to her. Tentatively, Marinette moved into the chair and sat with her hands threaded together in between her legs.

‘So, what do you know?’

‘Everything,’ Luna said, her eyes studying Marinette. ‘You’re very pretty.’

Marinette’s face heated. ‘Oh, er, thank you.’ She pushed on. ‘So, Adrien? What did he say?’

‘He told me about your special jewellery, about his father and mother, his carer and…you.’

The wince couldn’t be stopped no matter how much Marinette tried. This girl wasn’t judging her, wasn’t belittling her, or seemed to be picking sides, but Marinette still felt small and insignificant. Marinette was nothing more than a liar, something she despised so much. She studied her feet, willing the ground below them to open up and swallow her.

‘He has a lot to work through, but that doesn't mean he won’t. You need to work on yourself too. You don’t seem to be what you want to be.’

And wasn’t that just a fact.

‘How can I get him back?’

Luna shook her head, putting her small side satchel on the table and emptying out a couple of books. One seemed to be a notepad with a pink, sparkly pen attached and the other a magazine of witch fashion.

Marinette tilted her head, distracted by the fashions of the Wizarding World.

‘Do you want it?’ Luna asked, moving it towards Marinette.

She shook her head. ‘Sorry, no. I was just curious.’

‘You know what they say about being curious…’

‘It killed the cat.’

Luna gasped, placing both her hands to her mouth. ‘Why would you want to hurt a cat? That’s barbaric!’

Waving her hands frantically in front of her face, Marinette shook her head. ‘No, no! It’s just a saying. It doesn’t actually mean you’re going to kill a cat.’

Luna stared at her like she’d gone insane and she couldn’t help wondering if she had.

‘I like cats.’ The statement was sharp and to the point, and Marinette once again wanted to beat herself up for making things worse.

Luna had been here, helping her with Adrien and yet she comes out with something as insensitive as that. Marinette sat across the table, awkward in her seat, as Luna finally moved again. She messed about with her pens and books before starting to draw. It was pretty impressive!

Drumming her fingers on the wooden table top, Marinette thought about what she could ask Luna next. Though maybe it’d be better to just leave. She pushed her chair back and began to stand, the legs making a horrible grind as it moved against the stone floor.

‘Aren’t you going to ask me about them?’ Luna suddenly said, her eyes still focused on the work in front of her.

‘Who?’ Curious to see where Luna was going with this, Marinette sat back down.

‘Hermione and Draco,’ she said, her hand continuing to draw intricate details on the paper in front of her. ‘I thought you’d be curious.’ She didn’t look up. Her eyes focused on the page.

‘Oh!’

‘They’re much like you and Adrien,’ Luna said softly, her eyes fixed on the drawing. ‘They have a lot of work to do…but they’ll keep pushing.’

‘Pushing?’ Marinette asked, her eyebrows pulling together in confusion.

‘Yep.’ Luna smiled down at the paper, her expression warm but knowing. ‘They’ll push until they fall in love.’

Before Marinette could respond, Luna began packing her things, sliding the sketchbook into her bag with practiced ease. She stood up, brushing her hair back from her face as she slung the bag over her shoulder. ‘You, though… you need to pull. You have to pull the truth out and let him know. He’ll respond. I’m sure of it.’

With a gentle squeeze of Marinette’s shoulder and a final, encouraging smile, Luna turned and walked away, her footsteps fading into the quiet.

For a long moment, Marinette just stood there, her thoughts a whirl of uncertainty and hope. Then her eyes fell to the drawing Luna had left behind, still resting on the table.

Carefully, she picked it up, her breath catching as she took in the details. It was her and Adrien — or at least, the versions of them Luna had imagined — standing back to back in their Hogwarts uniforms. Regret shadowed her own face, sorrow etched into Adrien’s. But as she tilted the picture, the image shifted. Their hero masks faded in, and their hands reached behind them, fingers interlocking.

Marinette swallowed hard, Luna’s words echoing in her mind. You have to pull the truth out and let him know.

The connection was unmistakable. Even with their backs turned, they were still holding onto each other.

Chapter Text

Hermione

The sudden snap of a door closing stirred Hermione from her barely existent sleep. Her mind was trying to test her patience by replaying her rather pleasant kiss with Draco, over and over again. It had been unexpected, yet mind blowing. The way they seemed to move effortlessly together was like nothing she’d ever experienced in her life. She wasn’t sure it was from the heightened emotions, the sudden camaraderie between the two of them, or just being here in these bodies.

Or worst of all, her feelings for Malfoy, for Draco, were changing?

Sighing, she turned over in bed only to be met with a cool breeze. The covers had been pulled back, and even with the pillow wall between them, Hermione could tell Draco had left the bed. She considered her options: one, she could go back to sleep and leave him to do whatever he did in the middle of the night or two, she could go after him and find out if he was okay. After all, Cerise might be hanging around, just waiting for the chance to jump in and take one of them out. They’d be stronger if they stayed together.

With the idea of that femme fatale trying to separate the two of them, Hermione knew there was only one option. Swinging her legs out of bed she stood up, taking the blanket from on top of the covers and wrapping it around her shoulders. She headed out of the doorway and into the lounge, trying not to make a sound.

The glow of a fire pulled her in like a Niffler to a glittering treasure. The flames flickered softly in the darkened room, casting long, dancing shadows on the wooden walls of the cabin. Its orange glow was warm and inviting, crackling softly as embers whispered and sparkled, like tiny stars caught in the hearth. The flames swayed and twisted, their bright tendrils reaching upwards, their light painting the room with a flickering, ethereal glow.

Hermione's footsteps were light on the cold stone floor as she entered the dimly lit room. Her eyes scanned the shadows, seeking him. She hadn’t expected to find Draco Malfoy of all people sitting alone here, especially not in front of the roaring fire, his back straight and stiff as though he were trying to remain untouched by the warmth. The firelight flickered around him, casting strange, fluid shapes across his pale hair. It seemed to dance with a life of its own, as though teasing him, the flames swaying and curling like whispers at the edges of his blond locks.

For a moment, Hermione stood frozen, watching the fire’s playful dance on Malfoy’s hair. He looked so solemn, so out of place with the gentle warmth around him. She could almost imagine the flames laughing at the contrast—the fiery chaos against his cool, controlled exterior. She stepped forward, cautious, unsure whether to interrupt the rare quiet moment.

‘Malfoy?’ she said, her voice soft but firm. He didn’t stir, not even when the flames cast a glow that made his features appear softer than she was used to. He looked... almost human in the flickering light. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Go back to sleep.’ His voice was curt as he spoke, his body not moving an inch.

Again, she had a choice, but like everything else she’d been doing recently, she chose the risky one, moving forward and sitting beside him on the threadbare rug. ‘Penny for your thoughts?’

‘I think you’ll find it’s a cent.’

Hermione couldn’t help but smile. His usual sarcastic comments come out as nothing more than quick wit. ‘Touché.’

‘Bless you.’ He glanced at her, half his face lighting up in the flicker of the flames, his jaw tight and sharp in contrast to the gentle flow of the fire in front. ‘You should be asleep.’

‘As should you,’ she retorted, Draco’s eyes flickering a little before he turned his head away. They both sat silently next to each other, watching the dance of fire in front of them. Draco brought his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and resting his chin on top. He looked young, yet worn down, like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. His eyes, though always sharp and calculating, were ringed with red, the dark circles underneath prominent against his pale white skin. Had he always looked like this?

‘I don’t sleep well. I haven’t for a while.’ he whispered, almost as though the admission had been made with no thought. A breath left his mouth. He laughed, the heels of his hands rubbing harshly into his eyes.

‘How long?’ Hermione asked, mirroring his position by wrapping her arms around her own knees. She tilted her head to look at him, his own eyes fixed on the flames.

His throat moved as he swallowed, his teeth tracing his tongue as it darted out to wet his lips. ‘Almost two years.’

Doing the math in her head, she tried to piece together what was happening at that time. A year ago, they were fighting Voldermort after spending months chasing and destroying Horcruxes. Two years ago, she was nursing Ron after he’d been poisoned and comforting Harry after he almost killed Draco with a spell from the Half-blood Prince.

He shook his head gently side to side. ‘It wasn’t Potter, if that’s what you’re thinking.’ He rubbed a thumb along his chin, bringing her attention to the short blond hairs growing on his chin.

‘You don’t need to tell me anything,’ she whispered, wrapping the blanket tighter around her. ‘But if you do, I’ve been told I’m a good listener.’

‘Are you always this modest?’

‘Only to the people I don’t like.’

He let out a low chuckle, her lips twitching as he turned to face her again. He was studying her, and every nerve in her body could feel it. A blush took over her cheeks as she turned away and faced the fire again. Losing herself in the the flames as they crackled and popped in sync with each other. It reminded her of how others described herself: intense, ever-shifting, and fueled by an insatiable thirst for knowledge. Transfixed by the tangle of colours and waves, she almost missed the next words he spoke.

‘Do you ever feel like if you’d just been that tiny bit braver things would have been different?’

As she turned to look at him, he’d already swapped his focus, staring back into the flames.

‘Sometimes. But then, if you were brave all the time there would be nothing to learn.’

Draco shrugged, running a hand through his hair. ‘Maybe.’

‘Two years ago, everything was different. I would like to say it was better, but I know that’s just a lie.’

Draco’s whole body moved as he breathed in deeply. ‘They wanted me to kill him. To earn my place amongst them.’

Keeping her eyes locked onto his statue-like body, she asked the question she already knew the answer to. ‘Who?’

‘Dumbledore.’ Draco’s voice broke as he spoke, a hand rubbing fiercely over his eyes. ‘I didn’t want to but they didn’t give me much choice.’

‘You didn’t though,’ Hermione said softly. ‘You made the right choice. Dumbledore was clever. He had already perceived what they were going to do, that’s why Snape stepped in.’

He shook his head, removing his hand and leaving an increase of red around his eyes. ‘I should have said no. I should have understood better that the way I was being guided was wrong, that following Voldermort was wrong.’

‘You were being groomed, Malfoy. Your parents were grooming you to be a child of war. It was insane what they had expected you to do, what anyone expected you to do. As much as a dick that you are, you’re not a murderer.’ She could feel anger burning up inside of her. He was just a child, a child who had been exposed to far too much violence and far too much hate. There was no wonder he’d become the way he had. The constant surrounding of negatives made it practically impossible for Draco to be anything but himself.

‘My parents didn’t want me to come back.’

‘Home?’ Hermione asked, turning herself to face him fully.

He shook his head. ‘No. To Hogwarts. Surprisingly, after everything that had happened, they were still maintaining their we’re better than Dumbledore attitude. I refused to conform to their views so they kicked me out of the house.’

Kicked him out? Who would kick out their own child? That was nothing less than despicable. He continued to stare at the glowing embers in front of him, his body rigid and wound tight, yet his mouth was loose, spilling out secrets he’d obviously held for too long.

‘I have no choice but to do well in my NEWTs. If I don’t…’ his sigh was long, his whole body looking like a deflating balloon. ‘I need to pass, and with high grades, too. I have an opportunity for an apprenticeship with Elias Warrick. He agreed to train me for Wizengamot, allowing me to work alongside him in court with the other Wizengamot Elders. Apparently, I’d be fierce as part of the court. I’d reached out to me, and not because of favouritism or family influence, but because he saw something in me that others refused to acknowledge. When most witches and wizards wanted nothing to do with my last name, he saw something in me. I just need to get those grades.’

‘Which is where I come in?’

Draco nodded, finally turning to face her. ‘I’m not failing. I’ve never failed at anything in my life, but I need to get those grades. I need this apprenticeship, if not I’ll be out on the streets. Nothing more than an outcast in the wizarding world.’

She understood the need for the job, she needed one too, after all, now she had split with Ron she had nowhere to stay. In some ways, she wished she could stay here. As Marinette, she had a family here, a purpose. At home, she had nothing more than stress for her future and an ex-boyfriend she’d grown apart from.

‘Do you ever wish we could stay here?’ she asked quietly, almost ashamed of the thought.

‘More and more by the day,’ he said, giving her a small smile. ‘Even with a smarty-pants like you.’

‘Smarty pants?’ she repeated, a soft giggle leaving her mouth. ‘Your insults are getting weak, Draco.’

‘Just like how often you use my name.’

He smiled back at her. She felt so at ease, the boy beside her growing on her inch by inch as they spent more and more time together. In sync, almost like their alter egos, they turned back to face the fire, her body gravitating slightly towards him.

‘Things aren’t the same anymore,’ she said, crossing her legs and allowing the blanket to drape over them.

‘I don’t think they ever will be.’ He shuffled a little bit, and she knew he wanted to say more. She waited patiently, turning to look at him as his face showed a battle. ‘I think…I think I’m done with being a Slytherin. I just…’ he sighed, a hand rubbing around his neck before he tilted it back to look up at the ceiling. ‘I’m just…done. Everyone is still expecting me to be the same, to be the naive, horrible person I was, and I’m ashamed to say I’m still playing that part.’

‘It’s a mask, isn’t it?’

He chuckled. ‘It’s no black cat hero, that’s for sure. But yes. It’s like every morning I’m waking up to play a part. No one knows my father’s an asshole and has all but disowned me for stepping onto the Hogwarts Express and returning, and no one knows I’ve tried to get my mother to leave him time and time again, that she cries every night. I know I haven’t made the best choices, but I want to change. I want to change so badly, but no one will let me. I still have to be Draco Malfoy, the asshole who terrorises everyone at Hogwarts.’

Her heart ached for him, the pain in his face cutting at her heart like a thousand paper cuts. Each admission another fresh slice into her resolve. She’d never seen him so pure, so vulnerable. He was laying it all out on the table, something which made her feel both honoured and guilty at the same time, because she was one of those that expected him to be the same. That Draco Malfoy, in a nutshell, was a vile, vindictive Death Eater, who would be more worthy of Azkaban than Hogwarts. But she was wrong, oh-so wrong. Draco, who she'd met in her first year, was nothing more than a boy trying to impress his father, and then by sixth year he had been moulded and pushed into the role of a killer, of a Death Eater.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered, praying he could understand the depth of her apology.

He shrugged. ‘You have nothing to be sorry for. I haven’t exactly given you reason to think differently, if anything I’ve been worse to you than anyone else. I…’ he coughed, wriggling around a little on his spot. ‘I…I might have had a little…’

She moved forward towards him. A little…what exactly? ‘Yes?’ she encouraged.

His wiggling intensified. This was a whole new side to Draco, and part of her wished she could film for proof that he could actually feel. ‘A…’ He whispered the next word so quietly, she couldn’t hear what he’d said.

‘Draco? Come on, tell me. Why was I public enemy number one?’

He scoffed. ‘You think highly of yourself, don’t you? Potter has always been enemy number one, you were…kind of the opposite.’

‘How can I be opposite to an enemy? You used to call me a mud-blood and threatened me on a daily basis.’

Draco’s pale cheeks suddenly tinted with a rather peculiar shade of pink. It was as though even his blush didn’t want to touch him. ‘You know what they say about kids and crushes–’

‘Hold up,’ Hermoine said, scrambling onto her knees. What did he just say? ‘A crush? You…Mr Pure Blood supreme…had a crush on muggle born Hermione Granger?’ She gasped. ‘You traitor.’

‘Shut up.’ He gave her a little shove, pushing her backwards, off her knees and onto her bottom. She giggled, enjoying the ease of the conversation between them.

Draco wasn’t actually that bad away from the expectations of Hogwarts and his surname. Here he wasn’t Malfoy, he was Draco in his most natural form. He was funny, considerate and slightly charming, and the tug of her heart was pulling her towards him again. This couldn’t be happening, it just couldn’t. Every second with him was making life more and more dangerous. The feelings here were absolute, and she knew she’d have to travel back to Hogwarts with them. The only problem would be that the Draco she went back with wouldn’t be the Draco that was here now. The Draco who opened up to her, the Draco who stood beside her, the Draco that saved her. Now, more than ever, Hermione needed to get her head sorted and remember what life was like before this strange occurrence, before the boy she hated became more than a boy she tolerated. And she hated that she couldn’t stop glancing at his lips.

‘What had happened? The day we ended up here. Why were you so angry?’

The laughter stopped, and the reality of everything fell down on her. ‘Ron and I, we…’ she trailed off. Ron. She hadn’t given him more than a quick passing thought since she’d been here. The last argument that they had began to resurface and she could feel the aggravation nibbling at her once again. They’d seemed to have fallen apart just as well as they’d fallen together.

‘You don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to. I know I’ve been a pretty big twat, but…if you need to talk, I’m here. It’s not like I have anywhere else to be.’ His laugh was awkward, just like his offer of listening. But right here, she had nothing to lose. Someone was willing to listen, and even though he seemed to have it in for Ron, it would be nice to speak to someone out of their friendship group. Draco didn’t need to pick sides. He had no loyalties to either of them.

‘It was you,’ she said solemnly, watching him trying to figure it out like a pop quiz in Transfiguration.

‘Me?’

She nodded. ‘Yep. You. He didn’t know why I was tutoring you, not after everything you’d done. Which, let's be honest, was a lot. But even though I made out I was doing it for my extracurricular credits, it was more than that.’ She took a deep breath, preparing herself to become as vulnerable as he had. ‘You were real.’

He studied her for a moment before he spoke. ‘Well, I’m not exactly Pinocchio.’

‘I don’t know…’ she said sarcastically, ‘your nose definitely seems big enough.’

He snorted. Draco Malfoy snorted. The noise, hilariously abnormal for someone so caught up in himself. He started to laugh more, causing her own laughter to increase to the point a pain grasped hold of her stomach. She couldn’t breathe, cramps taking hold of her side in a weird kind of stitch.

A wet drip escaped her eye, running down her cheek creating a small river down towards her chin. She wiped the dampness with the back of her hand, laughing a couple of times more as she caught her breath. They both turned to face the fire, Hermione shuffling in closer, their shoulders bumping. She felt her face heat up, and not from the heat in front of her.

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered, his voice hoarse from their laughing fit.

‘It’s not your fault. It had been heading that way for a while. When we got together, it just seemed right, natural even. It was only after everything had calmed down and we were living in this new normal, things began to change. It was as though, once the intensity of everything had gone, it became…flat. I thought at first it was me being selfish, that I needed to be a better girlfriend, that it was my fault. Ron was grieving over Fred and I’m there being a bitch complaining because the intense buzz between us had disappeared.’

‘Makes sense,’ Draco responded, shrugging his shoulders and bringing his knees up again. He wrapped himself around them, hugging them tightly into his chest.

‘Yeah. It was then I realised that maybe the love I thought I felt was more to do with everything happening around us, instead of actually loving each other's personality. Like a relationship because it was easy. One formed from so much time together.’

The fire crackled between them, the warmth heating her from the inside out. She felt relaxed and comfortable, she was enjoying it. This. Just talking normally without fear.

‘I still love him. I'm just not in love with him. I love him the same way I love Harry, like family.’

Draco turned to face her, wiggling his eyebrows. ‘I didn’t realise you were into poly relationships.’

‘Nope,’ she said seriously. ‘That’s all you. I know Theo and Blaise are willing to sign the deed as soon as possible, they probably already have a dress ready too.’

‘You know what, Granger? You’re actually quite funny when you want to be.’

‘I’m glad I could entertain.’

They smiled, both taking the moment to call a truce and just enjoy.

‘Thank you.’ Draco looked uncomfortable as he showed his gratitude, though that wasn’t surprising for someone who didn’t do it often. ‘It actually feels good to talk about it, even if it’s with you.’

He smiled as he spoke, taking any sting off his words and instead coating her with an unusual warmth.

‘You’re welcome, I suppose,’ she said with a sigh, standing up and wrapping the blanket tightly around her. ‘Someone had to listen to your moaning.’ Very uncharacteristically, she dropped him a wink, causing Draco to laugh harder.

‘Are you coming to bed?’ she said, instantly regretting her choice of words. ‘To sleep. Not anything else. Just sleep, because that’s what people do…in bed.’

‘They also do other things.’ He smirked and her face tingled with sheer mortification, and extremely unholy thoughts. Damn it! ‘I’ll be in soon,’ he said with a smile, ‘I just need a little longer.’

Nodding, Hermione turned and made her way to the bedroom, slowly closing the door behind her, but not without one last glance at Draco, curled up in front of the fire. For the first time she could see him for what he was, a boy who had no other option but to try and please his father whether he wanted to or not.

Chapter Text

Adrien

Those eyes would forever haunt Adrien, he was sure of it. Those bluebell eyes which he always thought were so full of love and understanding were now tainted by the lies and secrets she’d held back. To look at her hurt. To stab him deeply in the heart and cause irreversible damage, damage he couldn’t help but hope she felt too.

He hated thinking about it. He wasn’t a mean guy. But she had hurt him, and he hoped she hurt just as much. Walking past Marinette in the Great Hall, he kept his eyes away, regardless of how much he wanted to look at her. He was indifferent. That was the game he was playing.

Moving down the aisles of the tables, Adrien looked for Blaise and Theo. He spotted them about half way down, opposite to where Marinette was sitting.

‘Hey, mate. I thought you were going to wait for me.’ A huge hand slammed down on his shoulder, giving him a slight shake and, unfortunately, causing people to stare.

Adrien turned to see Goyle.

Goyle kept his hand firmly on Adrien's shoulder as they moved towards where Theo and Blaise were now staring. Goyle swooped down and swiped a pastry from the Ravenclaw table. As some of the seventh years hollered at him, Goyle pushed Adrien down the aisle and towards the others.

With a strong shove, Adrien fell into a seat beside Blaise, his back, thankfully, to Marinette. If he couldn’t see her, he wouldn’t have to think about her…if only.

‘Hey, mate. She’s checking you out. That girl over there, on the Ravenclaw table.’ Blaise rammed an elbow into Adrien’s side, before encouraging him to look behind with a rather hefty tilt of the head.

‘Nah. I doubt it.’ Adrien reached out in front of him, taking a banana from a bowl.

Blaise huffed, snatching the banana from his hand. ‘Come on, Malfoy. It’s been a week and you haven’t messed around with anyone. If you won’t take Pansy, how about this one? She’s got big tits—’

Before Adrien could fully comprehend what he was doing, he’d grabbed Blaise by the tie and yanked him forward. Adrien was almost certain his teeth were bared as he glared at Blaise with such unbridled fury, he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t rip the guy's head off.

‘Speak about a woman like that again, and I will personally escort you to the Black Lake. I’ve heard the merpeople are after some new friends.’ Adrien spoke low and hard, meaning etched in every syllable.

Letting go of the tie, he pushed Blaise back, almost toppling the guy off his seat. Straightening his tie, Blaise glared. ‘What the hell has happened to you? You used to be fun.’

‘Yeah, well, I’m not in the mood.’ Foregoing the banana, Adrien swung his legs over the bench and stood, intent on making it out of the hall before he did something crazy, like tipping the steaming porridge bowl over someone’s head.

The last thing on Adrien’s mind at the moment was other women. Regardless of Draco’s behaviour that wasn’t him and it wasn’t something he was about to become. The only woman on his mind was currently sitting and looking at his back.

Adrien wondered if she’d noticed him come into the Great Hall, whether she was as drawn to him as much as he was drawn to her. He turned a little, his chin jutting to glance over his shoulder. His eyes caught hers. And once again the sight of them attacked him, stabbing him in the gut.

‘I’ve got to go.’ Abruptly, Adrien stood from the table, the cutlery rattling from the slam of his hands on the flat top.

‘Where?’ Theo asked from across the table.

Adrien shook his head, though the truth was, he didn’t really know himself. All he knew was that he needed to get out of here — and not just out of the Great Hall. He wanted to be back in Paris. He wanted to be somewhere he had someone to talk to — someone who knew him, not just the boy whose body he was currently in.

‘Just a walk. Need to clear my head about a few things.’

Theo and Blaise exchanged a glance, so quick and knowing it was almost like they could read each other’s thoughts.

Theo stood, squaring his shoulders, his eyes locking onto Adrien with a hard, unyielding stare. ‘Listen, mate, we get that you’re pissed because you can’t go home. But we’re starting to wonder why you’ve turned into such a bloody coward.’

The table fell silent, a ripple of stillness spreading across the hall as heads turned to stare — including Marinette. The word coward seemed to hang in the air, heavy and sharp, reverberating through the sudden hush. All eyes fixed on Adrien, the weight of the insult settling like a challenge. The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting to see how he would respond.

He rarely snapped, always the cool, calm, and collected child everyone expected from someone bearing the Agreste name. If only they knew the truth. His family was the epitome of aggression and pent-up emotions.

‘Don’t you dare speak to me like that!’ The words came out hissed and harsh, Adrien’s eyes narrowing as they locked onto Theo.

‘Oh! Sorry, did I hurt your feelings?’ Theo’s voice dripped with sarcasm, his smirk only widening. ‘Is the big, bad Draco Malfoy upset? Poor baby.’

Around them, the room began to buzz with whispered speculation, but Adrien couldn’t hear any of it. His eyes were fixed solely on Theo, tension coiling tight in his chest.

Adrien brought his hands to his chest, his fingers playing with the ring on his finger, his eyes never leaving Theo’s. Studying the guy, it all suddenly made sense. He wanted to be the top dog. He’d been waiting for Draco to fail, to fall short of his responsibilities — and now that there was a crack in the armor, Theo was ready to slip right in. Adrien could see it in the sharpness of his gaze, the slight curl of his lip. Ambition. It burned there, barely restrained. But Adrien wasn’t about to let that happen. Not without a fight.

The ring pulsed against his finger, power serving through him, a similar and comforting feeling just like when he wore his Miraculous. He looked down at it. A shimmer of green flicked over the front across the bezel of his signet ring, following the trail of the pattern before glowing in the middle and then it faded. Was this…? Could it be that this was a Miraculous? He’d noticed the ring when he’d first arrived, yet he hadn’t even thought to try and transform.

He knew the rings changed to the person, so could this be a secret Draco had been hiding? Could he be in possession of the cat Miraculous, but then, if he was, where the hell was Plagg?

‘See, I knew it,’ Theo scoffed, Adrien’s attention pulled to Theo’s dancing eyes. He was challenging him. Theo was challenging Draco for Alpha male status, and the way Adrien had been behaving recently, he wasn’t doing a good job at holding Draco’s power.

Adrien’s lips curled into a cold, almost pitying smile. ‘You know, Theo, I finally figured out what it is about you. It’s not the ambition — everyone has that. It’s the desperation. You’ve been standing in my shadow so long, you actually think clawing your way into my place will make you matter. But it won’t. Because no matter what you do, no one’s ever going to look at you the way they look at me. You’re just… forgettable.’

He let the word hang there, sharp and final. Then he added, softly, ‘And we both know that’s what keeps you up at night, don’t we?’

The sound of ohhh’s surrounded through the Great Hall, and a random shout of ‘burn’ coming from someone on the Hufflepuff table.

Theo’s face twitched, a flicker of anger crossing his features before he regained control. His fingers clenched at his sides, but his voice was icy when he finally spoke.

‘You’re right, Draco,’ he said, his tone deceptively calm. ‘People do look at you, but for all the wrong reasons. You think you’re untouchable, but you’re just a sad little king of a crumbling castle. Everyone’s waiting for you to fall. And when you do, I’ll be the one standing over the wreckage, watching you drown in your own mistakes.’

The silence in the Great Hall thickened, the weight of Theo’s words sinking into the air. Even the Hufflepuffs quieted, the earlier jeers fading into a tense stillness.

Adrien’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing dangerously. He wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of such venom. But instead of backing down, he smirked, a dangerous glint in his eyes. ‘You think you’re ready for that? You wouldn’t know what to do with power if it slapped you in the face, Theo.’ He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low, menacing tone. ‘The difference between you and me is simple. I don’t need anyone’s approval to stay on top. You, however… you’ll always be clawing for scraps.’

Theo’s lips twitched into a dark grin. ‘I don’t need approval, Draco. I need nothing from you. But you, on the other hand…’ He stepped closer, his voice barely a whisper now, ‘you need to be loved. And that’s why you’ll never be as strong as you think.’

Theo’s fingers twitched toward his robes, his wand already halfway drawn, the air crackling with tension. ‘I’m fed up with you thinking you can just walk all over me,’ he sneered, his eyes burning with fury. ‘You’re nothing but a spoiled little boy playing at being a man. And I’m done with it.’

Before Draco could respond, the sharp sound of ‘Expelliarmus!’ rang through the Hall, echoing off the walls. Theo’s wand flew from his grasp, spinning through the air and landing with a soft thud on the floor near the staff table.

Everyone turned to see Hermione Granger—Marinette— standing, her wand still aimed at Theo. But all he could see was Ladybug, strength and righteousness, and he hated everything about what she represented.

She had obviously been watching closer than he originally thought, and now, with calm authority, she spoke. ‘Not today, Theo.’ Her voice was steady and strong, vibrating off the walls.

Headmistress McGonagall appeared in the doorway. Her presence was demanding and terrifying. She crossed the Hall quickly. Her eyes narrowed at the scene unfolding before her.

‘Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Nott,’ she said sharply, ‘I will not tolerate this behavior. Detention for both of you. Immediately.’ Her gaze swept over the two of them, disapproving and stern, before she turned to face Marinette. ‘You too, Miss Granger. Come with me—all of you, follow me.’

They moved forward, the weight of every stare following them as they stepped out of the Great Hall into the main corridor. The three of them walked in a strange, tense formation — Theo storming ahead, his shoulders stiff with anger, while Adrien trailed just behind, his steps controlled but simmering with frustration. Beside him, Marinette kept pace, quiet but watchful.

He could feel her eyes on him — that steady, searching gaze — willing him to speak. But he didn’t. Not yet.

She probably did this on purpose. She must have seen McGonagall watching and knew exactly where this was heading. And now here they were, walking straight into the consequences.

He clenched his fists, the frustration building in his chest. ‘You didn’t have to get involved,’ he growled. ‘I could’ve handled it on my own.’

Marinette raised an eyebrow. ‘I highly doubt that.’

Theo shot a glare at Marinette, before his eyes flicked back to Adrien, watching his every movement. His anger hadn’t abated, but his focus shifted.

‘Handled it on my own?’ Theo muttered under his breath, the words thick with venom.

Adrien felt the weight of the ring on his finger—its presence almost like a reminder. A flash of light sparked from it again, just as McGonagall turned, leading down the corridor to her office.

It was brief, but unmistakable.

Adrien's eyes flicked down to the gleaming piece of jewellery. A strange, almost dangerous feeling stirred in him as the power of the ring surged, threatening to overtake him, to make him more than he was.

But for now, he suppressed it. He’d deal with it later.

Theo’s voice, though still sharp, came from in front of him, Theo slowed to a walk. Falling in stride beside Adrien. ‘You may have won this round, Draco, but I’ll be the one calling the shots soon enough.’

Adrien didn’t answer. He only shot one last, icy look over his shoulder at Marinette as she hung her head down. His focus was stolen by the glint of the ring flashing as they exited the Hall.

The battle was far from over.

Chapter Text

Draco

Warm. He felt warm. Warm and rested. Cosy. Relaxed. Man, he had no idea how much he’d actually been missing from a good night's sleep. He stretched his legs out, eyes still firmly closed and grateful for the rest he’d given them.

Attempting to move his arm, it wouldn’t budge. With some force, he opened his eyes, pulling them apart to find out what was happening with it. He pulled it as he looked over and realised what had happened. The pillow wall Hermione had meticulously built had fallen like the Berlin Wall, collapsing around him and giving him access to the forbidden land.

Somehow, in the night, they’d both gravitated to the middle of the bed, but not only that, they were cuddling. Hermione was lying on his arm, facing away from him. She’d wiggled back so their bodies were pressed together, which wasn’t the best position to be in in the morning with a pretty girl next to you in bed.

He’d never spent the night with anyone before. Yes, he’d been around girls, he wasn’t exactly a saint. And a lot of the eighth year girls would fight to be first to tell their stories. But he had never cosied up, or, dare he say, cuddled anyone through the night. He didn’t really know how to feel having Hermione Granger as his first ‘sleepover’.

As though knowing he was thinking about her, Hermione wiggled her hips backwards. Draco took in a sharp intake of breath, surprised the noise hadn’t woken her up. Instead, she sighed, and his heart did a strange flip in his chest. What the hell was that?

A glance down at her set the gymnast in his heart off again, this time the impact was so strong, it almost knocked him off the bed.

Wiggling his arm, he pulled it out like some sort of screw driver, gentle movements in a hope he didn’t flip her off the bed or wake her up. He’d never seen Granger this early in the morning before, and he wasn’t taking any chances in case she was a ‘don’t talk to me until after I’ve eaten’ girl.

Finally, he was free. His hand tingled as he reached for his hoodie and slipped it over his head. He used his one good hand to push off the bed and stand up. The dip of the bed must have jarred Hermione, her small body rolling over and hair plastering itself over her face. His fingers inched to move forward and brush the hair from her eyes, allowing him to see her face as she slept. He always thought Hermione would be a messy sleeper, maybe a snorer, what he got instead was someone so calm and serene, he was jealous.

He’d used the torch on his phone to make it way around the obstacles on the bedroom floor, the small beam of light saving him from doing something like falling on top of a sleeping witch. But there was no mess to be found.

Standing to his full height, Draco studied Hermione, curled up, hugging on the side of her pillow as her face remained still—motionless like a porcelain doll. The strange flip happened again as his mind reminded him of how Hermione looked last night as they’d sat in front of the fire.

The vivid flames flickered against the dark brown in her eyes, making them look alive and dangerous. She must have put some sort of voodoo on him, as he’d found himself opening up to her in a way he’d never opened up to anyone. Draco Malfoy was a closed package as far as anyone was concerned—closed.

Except, unloading his thoughts and feelings had felt good. It’d given him a release he didn’t know he needed, hence the decent sleep he’d had the previous night.

Carefully, he made his way to the door, needing to give himself a little space before he did something crazy, like kiss her on her sleep reddened cheeks. His lips twitched as he considered what she’d actually do if he tried it—a black eye most likely.

But she’d shown a vulnerable part of herself too. It wasn’t one sided and that meant more than he ever could have realised. Slytherin, the Death Eaters, they were all about putting up a front, not exposing any weakness. You showed it and you were as good as dead, especially during the times of the Dark Lord. One of the reasons he’d ended up in the position he did. He should have said no, he should have stood up to them all. But it would have been suicide, and he wasn’t ready to die yet—he wasn’t Potter. A worthy sacrifice.

Quietly, he left the room, closing the door gently behind him. The sun was barely up, and by looking at the old clock in the hallway, the time couldn’t have been later than half six in the morning. Still a record for him. He made his way into the kitchen, surprised to see someone already in there.

The snake.

Stalling in the doorway, Draco had half a heart to turn around and head back to bed. It was fair too early to deal with an altercation, because there was no way this was going to go well. Standing tall, he stepped into the kitchen, feeling a step ahead as Luka still hadn’t noticed him. He knew Marinette loved Adrien, and Hermione wasn’t exactly going to run off with a musician from another dimension, but still, from what he’d heard Luka was constantly in the wings, waiting for Adrien to mess up. Almost like Theo being constantly on his tail.

‘Morning,’ Draco said, attempting to appear as carefree and happy as his body’s owner. Adrien didn’t have beef with Luka, and he needed to remember that, even if trusting a snake was against everything he believed–and he would most certainly know.

Luka turned, shirtless (of course) and greeted him. ‘Morning to you too.’ He looked around him, eyes fixed on the door.

‘She’s still asleep.’ His voice was monotone as he headed for the cupboards displaying the glasses.

He heard Luka scoff. ‘Typical, Marinette.’

Draco winced, happy his back was facing the other direction so that Luka couldn’t see it. ‘Yep. But who could blame her? We had quite a busy night.’ He hoped Luka took the hint with what he was implying.

They both continued to move around, Draco deciding to make himself and Hermoine a normal English breakfast tea…she would like that, wouldn’t she?

‘I didn’t realise Marinette drank tea.’

Draco glanced over his shoulder, only to see Luka sat at the breakfast bar, a glass of orange juice in front of him.

‘And you would know that…how?’

Luka shrugged. ‘I don’t. I suppose.’

He continued making the drinks, adding milk and half a sugar—just in case. Luka’s glare was burning into his back, almost looking straight through him and this charade. Did he know?

‘So, Cerise? How did you say you met her?’ Draco asked, wanting to know more about the girl who filled him with dread.

Picking up the two mugs containing the tea, Draco went and sat opposite Luka, his own in between his hands, warming them.

‘Lycée,’ Luka responded, keeping his eyes fixed on Draco’s as he took a sip from his juice.

‘Is she in your class?’

Luka nodded, spinning the glass around in between his hands. ‘Math and music.’

One thing Malfoy could do confidently, was to read body language, and right now he could tell Luka was telling only the truth. Which means, whatever was up with this new girl had slipped past everyone’s radar.

Shuffling uncomfortably in his seat, he prepared to broach the subject of this strange intruder. ‘Don’t you think she was a little…I don’t know…condescending with Mari last night? Like, for some reason she seemed to have a vendetta against her.’

Luka chuckled and shook his head. ‘Always the protector.’

‘Until my dying breath,’ he said without coaxing. They sat staring at each other, almost like two cowboys about to have a shootout, though this one would only contain two hot teas and an orange juice. Draco felt the odds were in his favour.

Luka brought his arms up, causing Draco to jump a little on the spot. But instead of flinging the orange juice in his face, he folded his fingers in front of him. A bracelet of a snake sitting firmly on his wrist. The Miraculous. Did anyone else see this? It was so obvious.

‘Is everything okay with you and Marinette?’ Luka asked all of a sudden and Draco felt like he was in the dock at the witch trials. This answer had to be worded correctly, for all their sakes.

‘Of course,’ Draco said, taking a sip of his tea. ‘It’s never been better.’

Luka continued to stare, and Draco felt like he’d already messed up. ‘You two just seem… different. Like something happened between you.’

Draco scoffed. ‘You’d like that wouldn’t you? Jump in as the hero, and be a shoulder to cry on.’

‘Woah!’ Luka’s eyes widened as he moved back away from the table hands up in surrender. ‘Seriously, Adrien, what is with you? You know I would never get in the way of you and Marinette. You’re a perfect match, in every meaning of the word.’

‘But you like her.’ Draco stated it more as a fact than a question.

Luka shrugged. ‘There’s not many of us that don’t.’

Absent-mindedly, Draco started to spin the ring on his finger, taking strength from it in the way he would his signet ring. Luka glanced down noticing the action, before his eyes grew impossibly wider.

‘You know, don’t you?’

Stopping what he was doing, Draco placed both his hands on the breakfast bar. Luka’s eyes followed the ring, locked on it like a homing missile.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Yes you do. You know, don't you? That’s why you’ve become more protective. You understand the importance of all this. Of you and her.’

If Draco was wearing a heart monitor, he was almost certain the damn thing would have short circuited. Plagg had never told him Luka knew anything, he’d never told him anything about who does and doesn’t know about him. Shit!

‘You found out each other’s identities, that’s why your relationship has changed.’

Well, it seems they hadn’t done a very good job at being Marinette and Adrien. He gulped, unsure what he should do and wished Hermione was here with him. She’d know. Right now, Draco was about to tell Luka to shut the hell up and mind his own business–and he was almost certain that was not the right answer.

‘I never thought you’d become so cold to her when you found out. I thought you would be happy. I mean, you’ve always been in love with both parts of her. Isn’t it everything you ever wanted?’ Luka said, his eyebrows pulling in.

‘I am…I do…I…’ Before Draco could ramble on anymore, the door to the kitchen opened and a group of tired, and mostly hungover, young adults stepped in.

‘Whoever came up with that idea last night owes me a new liver.’ Kim moved to the cafetière, switching it on before pulling out a selection of mugs.

The idea Kim was talking about involved whoever selected the worst card for the Cards Against Humanity game was made to take a shot. Though Kim hadn’t always selected the worst card, it quickly became an unspoken alliance to only select his. Yes, there had been a considerable amount of cheating.

Draco glanced at Luka, noticing his attention had been taken by Juleka who’d just entered the room with the wildest hair he’d ever seen. She looked like she’d spent the night with her head in a tumble dryer, it was all puffy and sticking out all over the place.

‘Morning, Handsome.’ Hands grasped his shoulders, as lips found their way to his cheek. Swirling his chair, he came face-to-face with Hermione. Her hair was in some sort of crazy updo, her face bare and beautiful with the glow of a good night’s sleep, and then was her top. She was wearing his tee, the one he’d been wearing yesterday.

Hopping off the stool, he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer, his lips brushing the corner of her mouth and his heart taking pleasure from the slight gasp that left her lips.

She turned, her lips mere millimetres from his. ‘I hope you don’t mind me wearing your shirt.’

‘What’s mine is yours…’ He moved his lips to her ear, lowering his voice so only she could hear. ‘Granger.’

Edging backwards, he was proud to see the blush he’d left on her cheeks. The little pink hues made his stomach do that weird flip again. She looked so good just out of bed…their bed…where they had been cuddling. The flip was bigger this time, the threat of his one delicate sip of tea ready to escape. What the actual Hippogriff was that?

He kept his arm securely round her waist, keeping her at his side. He buried his head into the scruffy updo, marvelling at the way she fit so perfectly under his chin. Without thinking, he pulled her even tighter, placing a small delicate kiss to the top of her head. He froze, lips still pouted and placed in her hair. The smell of her shampoo surrounded him and he closed his eyes. What was she doing to him? He was becoming softer than a Sugar Quill.

The sound of the door slamming open made Hermione jump, her head banging into his mouth. ‘Bloody hell!’ He stumbled backwards, his eyes catching the amused stare from Luka.

Snake!

Alya and Nino made their way into the kitchen, loaded up with boxes. Where the hell had they gotten those from? They dropped them on the counter and smiled at the faces in the room.

‘Go and wake up the others. It’s time to play a game,’ Alya said, clapping her hands with excitement. Wild hoots echoed around the kitchen as everyone went into motion, leaving the room from one of the many doors and shouting down the corridors.

‘What’s a Super Soaker?’ Draco asked, reading the name on one of the many boxes. They were brightly coloured, gun-like objects and from the look on the kids’ faces plastered over the box, fun to shoot at people with. Though, none of that seemed appealing to him. Give him a wand anyday.

Hermione went to open her mouth, hopefully to explain what the hell they were when a voice sounded behind them.

‘Oh, you beautiful little Cinnamonroll. Bagsy not on your team.’

Draco whipped his head around, just in time to see Kim placing tablets in his mouth and swallowing them down with a whole glass of water. He let out a large, sickening belch, before leaving the room.

‘Feeling’s mutual,’ Draco said. Hermione giggling beside him.

‘Come on, Malfoy. It seems I have a lot to teach you in very little time.’ Slipping her hand into his, she pulled him out of the kitchen and down towards their room.

With her hand in his, he was starting to feel like she could take him anywhere. And it wasn’t scaring him anymore.

Chapter Text

Hermione

The soft crunch of leaves underfoot echoed through the quiet forest, each footfall quick and uneven as the runner darted between the trees. Branches swished and snapped, brushing against the hurried figure, while the distant rustling of wildlife added a whispering urgency to the scene. The rhythmic thud of shoes striking the earth was drowned out by the sharp, laboured breaths, the only sounds cutting through the dense, earthy scent of moss and pine. Above, the wind stirred the canopy, sending a flurry of leaves fluttering to the ground in a soft, rain-like shower. With each breath, the forest seemed to pulse, the runner’s heart racing in sync with the wild, untamed world around them.

Hermione ducked underneath the branches. Keeping low and out of sight of the others. She held the water gun close to her side, trying her best to hide it from the view of anyone else hiding in the woods. It was boys against girls. Two teams poised on winning, and if Kim’s war cry as he left the stoop of the house was anything to go by, it was a competition everyone wanted to win.

After they’d all changed and freshened up for the day, they’d met in the lounge, in front of the fireplace which now held too many memories, too many feelings. She could feel everything about Draco as he’d stood tall beside her, his frame strong and solid, his smell divine. Every now and then, their fingers would brush alongside each other, and it took everything in her power to not reach out and grab it, to thread their fingers together and yank him down face-to-face with her, because she was craving his lips. She was craving having him kissing her away from this facade they were putting on, one where he meant it. Where he took control and laid everything out on the line. He was becoming vulnerable with her, letting her in, but the door wasn’t fully open yet. And whilst they were playing this part together, she couldn’t trust it wasn’t anything more than the forced proximity.

Hermione was sounding more and more like famed witch romance writer, Isolde Fairbloom. Forced proximity. Only one bed. Fake dating. She was living in a world of romcom tropes. But, blimey, she couldn’t deny she was enjoying it, because she really was. A little too much. Hogwarts felt foreign now, almost like a dream.

When Draco had left, he’d stunned her. Instead of just jumping ship and running into the woods, he’d wrapped his arms around her again and kissed her. Only to leave her frozen and discombobulated as the girls counted down to their attack. She wasn’t sure who’s sake he’d kissed her for, but she’d be damned to say it wasn’t fantastic.

The three minute countdown had passed, and the girls were off. Running through the woods searching for the boys to take them down. She couldn’t wait to find Draco, soaking him through to get another look at his bare chest. Waving a hand in front of her face, Hermione attempted to cool herself down. This was happening far too often and she needed to sort it out. When they returned to Hogwarts it wasn’t like they would continue being friends, and it wasn’t like Draco would give her the time of day–not when all the other girls were constantly fighting for his attention.

Harry might have been the most famous, Ron and herself following in the shadows, and Draco may be the most feared, but that didn’t stop him from being Hogwarts’ most attractive student. With his chiselled cut face, and white silver hair, he really was nothing short of a masterpiece. And he was all too generous in allowing people the chance to see it. Gah, she hated thinking like this, especially when everything with Ron was still so raw and so complicated. Ron was more her standard. Someone who she could be with easily, without the backstabbing and gossiping, but should she be with someone just to keep life easy? Because she felt like she should be with him. They’d run their course, their happiness. Yes, she would always be his friend, she would always be there for him, they’d been through a lot. But she needed the excitement. Someone to challenge her and make her stomach flip every time their fingers brushed. Someone who kissed her with such intensity every nerve in her body exploded into colourful fireworks. Firing off to make a beautiful, eye-catching display.

She felt alive with Draco, in a way she hadn’t for so long.

Distracted by her thoughts, Hermione screamed when someone suddenly grabbed her around the waist and yanked her behind a tree. Their body pressed her back into the rough bark, hiding them both from the sound of footsteps drawing near.

‘Shhh!’ Hot breath brushed against her neck, followed by a scent she was growing far too familiar with—and undeniably addicted to. ‘Stay still, they won’t see you.’ Draco’s voice, like warm honey, caressed her, and her eyes fluttered shut, surrendering to the sound. If he continued to speak to her this way, in this low, intimate tone, she would do anything he asked.

‘Yo! Agreste!’ Kim’s voice shattered the moment. Hermione’s eyes snapped open, locking with Draco’s. The corner of his mouth curled into a smirk, and she was sure her heart skipped a beat.

‘Just tending to some business, Kim. Can I have some privacy, please?’ Draco wiggled his eyebrows at him, placing one hand above her head against the tree trunk.

‘Bush wee? Good one, man! I’ll keep looking. If I find Marinette, I’ll leave her for you to chase down.’

‘Please, do!’ Draco's voice was smooth, dripping with an almost mischievous groan. ‘Please, do indeed!’

Kim moved away, the crunching of leaves growing fainter with every step. The tension in the air thickened, a silent charge that crackled between them. Draco’s eyes never left hers, and they were locked in a gaze so intense it felt like he was pulling her closer with nothing but his stare. Then she noticed it—his eyes, once the cool gray she’d grown used to, were now a deep, unsettling black. The thin silver line around his pupil gleamed ominously, like a sliver of moonlight cutting through the dark, and Hermione couldn’t look away.

Her heart hammered in her chest as she studied the change. The air seemed to grow heavier with each passing second, and she felt a sudden, inexplicable shiver run down her spine. He looked… hungry. But for what? The question lingered in her mind, but she didn’t dare voice it. She didn’t even want to think about it—didn’t want to acknowledge the dangerous, magnetic pull that seemed to radiate from him now, as if something inside him had shifted, something darker. Her breath caught in her throat as her pulse quickened.

The space between them felt like it was shrinking, and despite every warning in her mind, her body leaned ever so slightly toward him, caught in the gravitational pull of his gaze. What was he going to do? What was she going to do?

And then, he stepped away, taking the deep longing with him. He took both their water guns and placed them down on the floor.

‘That was close.’ He breathed out and wiped the corner of his shirt against his forehead, removing the sweat and giving her a front row ticket to abs-ville. Yikes!

‘My eyes are up here, Granger!’ That unbearable smirk was back. Oh, he knew exactly what he was doing, and he was enjoying it. Well, damn him!

‘You scared me,’ she whispered gruffly, Draco only laughing at her in response.

‘I thought you said you don’t get scared, Miss ‘I’ve fought the Dark Lord every year since I was twelve’.’

‘Eleven, actually!’ She slammed her hands over her mouth causing Draco to laugh loudly.

‘Now there’s the Hermione Granger I know!’

He was gaining the upper hand, he had her flustered and hidden in a forest. She needed to pull the power back or else she’d end up begging him to have his wicked way with her. ‘The Hermione Granger you had a crush on, I believe.’

The laughter stopped, but the smile still brightened his face. ‘Who said it was past tense?’

‘I — I…’ She started to stutter, not entirely sure what she wanted to say, but knowing completely she didn’t want him to have the last word. It was too late though, it didn’t matter what she tried to come up with, apart from ‘pin me to the tree and make out with me’, everything was coming up gobbledygook.

A sharp snap sounded nearby. Draco moved forward, pushing her against the tree again and burying his head near her neck. Oh! If he kept doing this, she was, without a doubt, going to pass out.

‘Stand. Still.’ Trees began to rustle, though not by the wind. The uneven snaps of twigs on the ground could only mean one thing. Someone was fast approaching.

He glanced around the trunk, his body pressing flush into hers. Then, he took her.

His hand slid up to her neck, his thumb brushing her ear as he cupped her face and kissed her.

Her body convulsed with the need for him to come closer, his hand grasping her face as the other pushed her hips back against the trunk. He tilted his head, rotating his body just enough so she could feel every single, hard worked inch of him. The rough textures of the tree dug into her, yet the way he held her was a promise of never hurting her, of keeping her safe. The pleasure mixed with slight pain, a reassurance to life and reality.

His fingers dug into her side deeper. The frenzied movement of his mouth slowed into a soft glide. His movements easing into something delicious.

This was different from the other kisses. This was laced with words he couldn’t say. Of actions he couldn’t use. Of love he wanted to give. She could feel it, she swore she could. The soft punctuated mini kisses between the strong, fierce makeouts made it all the most special, personal. He was treating her. Giving her sweet tastes in between undeniable lust.

She’d stood frozen, greedily taking everything he was offering and not giving anything in return. Just like everyone else.

She broke away, her head colliding with the hard trunk. She didn’t want to be like the others. She couldn’t be like the others. So, she changed the narrative.

Reaching up, she looped her arms around his neck, bringing him down to her level. His eyes were dazed, love drunk, and she knew he hadn’t minded what had happened before, but now he needed to know that he could take too. He didn’t just have to give himself with no reward.

Gently, she threaded her fingers through his hair. Her heart jumped to her throat as his head tilted back and a soft moan escaped his lips. That noise. That noise. She wanted to hear it again — but next time, right against her ear.

Pulling him in, she brushed a featherlight kiss against the corner of his mouth, teasing, before moving slowly to the other side.

‘You’re teasing me, Granger.’

‘You’re the one who pinned me against the tree, Malfoy.’

His head dipped closer, his nose grazing hers. ‘And don’t pretend you don’t like it.’

Sliding one hand down the length of his arm, she found his hand and guided it back to her waist. With her other, she gripped the nape of his neck, pulling his lips back to hers — stealing kisses as her fingers explored, trailing over the hard lines of his chest beneath the thin cotton of his t-shirt.

When she finally broke away, she didn’t go far. Her lips moved slowly across his jaw, up the rough edge of his cheek. But before she could go further, he caught her face in his hand, his thumb and forefinger tilting her head so he could crush his mouth back to hers, stealing the breath from her with the intensity of his kiss.

‘No one’s here.’

The words sliced through the haze, and Hermione jerked back, eyes flashing to the side. Cerise stood there, watching them with an unreadable expression.

The air went taut between them, neither willing to make the first move. But the damage was already done — Hermione could feel the slow burn spreading through her, a heat ignited by the girl who now stood before them. The girl who had been the reason for Draco’s kiss in the first place.

Her heart sank.

She didn’t want it to be fake anymore.

Not after a kiss like that.

It couldn’t be fake.

Cerise held their gaze for a beat longer. Then, without a word, she turned and walked away, disappearing into the trees.

The silence she left behind felt deafening.

Hermione’s breath was still uneven, her skin still tingling from where his hands had been. When she finally looked back at Draco, she found him already watching her. His silver eyes, still dark and unreadable, and all the more alluring.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Neither of them moved. Just the heavy rise and fall of their chests from the intense kisses.

Everything between them had shifted. Questions piling up, one on top of the other, waiting patiently for an answer. Hermione opened her mouth, wanting to start unloading some of these new, overpowering emotions…

And then their phones buzzed. The sharp sound of the alarm cutting through the tension like a knife.

They both jumped.

Plagg zipped out, eyes wide. ‘Paris is under attack, lovebirds. Let’s go!’

Tikki appeared just as swiftly, her tiny face urgent. ‘We don’t have time!’

Hermione forced herself to push everything else aside — the kiss, the way his hands had felt on her skin, the ache in her chest — because they had a job to do.

‘Let’s go,’ she said, meeting Draco’s eyes one last time before they both turned and ran.

Chapter Text

Marinette

Marinette stood, in between the Slytherins, and wondered how much more she could ruin Hermione’s life. She’d managed to get the Gryffindor Golden Girl into trouble with her Professors, drop a few grades in most of her classes and make everyone think she had some sort of weird infatuation with Draco Malfoy.

‘I am absolutely disgusted by the behaviour you have just shown in the Great Hall. You’re all adults now, we do not expect such childish behaviour.’

‘Yes, Headmistress McGonagall.’

Marinette stared down at her feet, unsure what to say next. Their headmistress was already seething, and Marinette was almost certain whatever came out of her mouth would only fan the flame already burning bright enough to scold them.

The office of Headmistress McGonagall was a place of quiet authority, very much a reflection of the woman herself. The circular room was lined with tall, narrow windows, their glass distorted ever so slightly, casting slanted patterns of light across the stone floor. Shelves rose high along the walls, crammed with books both ancient and modern, their spines worn from use. The scent of old parchment and polished wood lingered in the air, mingling with the faintest trace of something herbal, perhaps tea, long gone cold.

At the center stood a grand oak desk, its surface meticulously organised. Stacks of parchment sat in neat piles, alongside a gleaming inkwell and a single quill laid precisely parallel to the desk’s edge. A tartan cushion rested on the high-backed chair behind it—a small, personal touch amid the room’s formality. A few enchanted objects clicked or whirred softly on the shelves, their quiet murmurs blending into the stillness.

The walls were adorned with portraits of former headmasters and headmistresses, their frames heavy and ornate. Some slumbered, others watched with mild curiosity. In one corner, a squat, iron-rimmed fireplace flickered with steady, controlled flames, casting long shadows that danced up the stone.

‘I don’t know what is getting into you all at the moment, but if you want to stay here and complete your education you need to think about how you present yourselves.’ Her voice bounded around the curved walls of the office, creating a distorted echo as it bounced up to the ceiling and out of the room.

‘Yes, Headmistress,’ Adrien said. Marinette turned her head to look at him, noticing Theo had done the same, catching her eye from the other side. He glared, daring and threatening.

‘So what does Granger get for trying to kill me?’ Theo asked, his eyes still challenging her to turn away first. She would not give in. She was Ladybug for crying out loud, and Ladybug never gave up on a challenge.

Even if that challenge was almost six foot tall and looked like they wanted to tear her apart limb by limb.

‘Don’t be so dramatic, Mr Nott. Miss Granger performed nothing more than a simple disarming spell. You make it sound like she set an unforgivable curse on you.’

‘She could have killed me!’ he shouted, turning his attention to their headmistress.

‘Mr Nott, you need to calm your tone. I will not accept such an attitude within my school.’

Theo huffed, responding like a toddler as he crossed his arms over his chest and looked away. If McGonagall wasn’t so observant, Marinette was quite sure he’d be mimicking her right now. Like a naughty school boy being told off by his teacher. Like, Kim. She felt her lips tug, her eyes looking at Adrien to catch his attention—before realising he wouldn’t care. Not when he hated her so much at the moment.

He was looking away.

They’d always been so in tune, especially as Ladybug and Chat Noir, but now, they seemed nothing more than strangers. Two students caught out, not two best friends—lovers—who fought together to protect.

Her heart felt like it’d been stabbed. A sharp pain shooting through her and causing her pain to increase.

‘Gentlemen, leave. I will see you later this afternoon at detention, complete school uniform, please. Miss Granger, you will stay here.’

Marinette nodded. She glanced down, not wanting to talk as Adrien walked away.

The sound of pounding feet faded into nothingness as the door creaked and snapped closed behind them. She dared not move. Not wanting to look up into yet another disappointed face.

The sigh was slow and deliberate — a long, measured exhale through the nose, the kind that seemed to deflate the entire body. Marinette moved her attention to the headmistress. Her shoulders dropped just a little. And silence. It was heavy with the weight of unspoken words.

‘Miss Granger.’ McGonagall’s voice was low and steady, but there was a tightness to it — the kind of calm that felt more dangerous than anger. ‘I’ve had some alarming conversations with your professors.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she stuttered, her fingers looping together in front of her.

McGonagall took her glasses off, placing them on the table as she studied Hermione. ‘It’s understandable that you’re not fully focused at the moment. I have heard about Mr Weasley and your tutoring sessions with Mr Malfoy, but that shouldn’t be getting in the way of your academics. You have an important year, this year, Miss Granger, and it seems boys are becoming distractions.’

Marinette stepped forward. Her hands dropped to her sides. ‘I promise they’re not, Headmistress.’

McGonagall held up her hands, standing from the chair and coming around to her side. ‘It’s not just Ron and Draco. It’s Harry too.’

‘Harry?’ Marinette asked, eyes wide.

‘Yes, dear. Since joining Hogwarts, it’s always been the three of you, and working together in quite dire circumstances. Apart from during the Yule Ball, I haven’t seen you away from them.’

The Yule Ball? Marinette’s curiosity peaked. What was the Yule Ball? And what did she mean that, that was the only time she wasn’t around them.

McGonagall continued: ‘When was the last time you took some ‘you’ time? Read a good book? Or watched a picture on the screen?’

Marinette shrugged. She had no idea about Hermione, but as Marinette? It rarely happened. She was either with Adrien, or her friends, she couldn’t even remember the last time she picked up a book, or watched something without getting into a debate over fantasy versus romance.

‘I, er, I can’t remember.’

McGonagall nodded. ‘Exactly as I thought. I expect you to be in detention this evening, and then tomorrow I don’t want to see you in the castle.’

‘Where am I going to go?’ she stuttered, her voice slightly higher pitched. Was she being suspended? Oh, no! This couldn’t be happening, that’s not fair on Hermione.

‘Before you start panicking, you’re not suspended. But it is the Easter holidays, and we are having additional trains come for Hogsmeade. I hear they’re having an Enchanted Egg Hunt.’

Marinette nodded. Maybe a break from the castle would do her good. A moment away from the craziness in Hogwarts, and more importantly, a break from Adrien. She needed it.

‘Okay,’ she said.

‘Good.’ McGonagall clapped her hands together and moved Marinette towards the door. ‘That’s sorted then. You will have a you day. No expectations and no one influencing you. Hermione and Hermione only.’

‘Yes,’ Hermione agreed, wondering exactly how that was going to work. Her friends were like magnets and found her wherever she was. She supposed if she just told them what McGonagall had said, they would understand.

‘Good.’ McGonagall opened the door and walked out alongside Marinette, shutting and locking it with her wand. ‘Now off you go, and stay away from those Slytherin boys.’

Easier said than done! Marinette gave the headmistress a small smile before walking away, down the corridor and, hopefully, in the direction of the common room.

Lost in her own thoughts of what she might do tomorrow, she wasn’t paying attention to the route she was taking and ended up outside in the courtyard. It was still early, the sun barely above tree level. The birds were chirping merrily, mocking the anguish she felt inside. How could the sun be so happy when her whole world was falling apart?

Maybe she could start self-love now. It was quiet out here and the lack of clouds gave the sun a warm glow on her skin. No one was around, and right now she felt calm, at peace.

As she reflected on everything that had happened, she closed her eyes, playing back everything that had happened since the akuma.

The realisation that she was somewhere else.

The realisation that she was in someone else's body.

The realisation of who Chat Noir actually was.

Everything would have been so much simpler if Chat Noir was someone else. They could have met up, figured this out and been back home in no time. But now, they are stuck here without any idea and without a partnership. To make matters worse, she wasn't entirely sure who hated her more, him or herself.

When everything had happened with Gabriel, her first and only thought was to protect Adrien at all costs. Gabriel had made her promise. She’d just started dating him. She had pretty much killed his father. She began to replay the scene again, like she did most days. Tikki had always told her she wasn’t to blame, that she was changing what happened with every thought, that she was fourteen and trying her best. She was barely more than a child. But she knew what was the right thing to do, she knew that Gabriel wasn’t there to stop her anymore, yet she still did it, and by not telling him, the one thing she was trying to stop had happened anyway.

There was no one else to blame but herself. And the guilt rained down on her, allconsuming and suffocating.

She let out a sigh, eyes still tightly closed. As much as she hated this, she had it coming, and it only proved that she should have spoken to him sooner, the length of time between Gabriel’s sacrifice and Adrien finding out was too long…and now she was paying for it.

Laughter echoed through the air, her body reacting on impulse: eyes opening, heart thundering and neck prickling.

In front of her, a group stumbled into the courtyard, breaking her calm serenity and tightening her muscles.

Theo and Blaise were surrounded by Hufflepuff girls, each of them looking a couple of years younger than them, yet completely infatuated. They were giggling, taking their turn to grab hold of Theo or Blaise’s arms, both guys playing up to the attention and teasing the girls in the most inappropriate way.

But that wasn’t the worst part.

As Marinette stood up to walk away, her heart dropped down into the soles of her shoes. Adrien followed Blaise and Theo out, but he wasn’t alone. There, clutching to his arm, was Pansy Parkinson, looking at him in a way which churned her gut.

And as Adrien turned and caught Marinette’s eye, his arm snaking around Pansy’s waist, she knew it was well and truly over.

She’d lost the game. She’d lost him. And she had no idea what to do next.

Chapter Text

Adrien

Adrien hated causing her pain, of watching her walk away, but this was their reality now—like it or not.

‘That’s enough,’ Adrien said, pulling his arm out of Pansy’s grasp.

‘What? I thought we were going to have some fun. You told me we were going to the Forbidden Forest?’

‘I’ve changed my mind,’ Adrien replied, heading past her and towards the entrance back into the castle. He crossed Blaise and Theo, the former laughing once Adrien’s back was to them.

‘See,’ he said, the slimy smugness in his voice not going amiss. ‘I told you he's not worth it, Pansy. He’s too wrapped up with that mud-blood to know what’s good for him.’

He daren’t turn around. If he did, he might do something he regretted and something that would get Draco expelled from school. His shoulders straightened and jaw clenched, as he remained still on the spot. Power throbbed from his body, his ring flickered with spots of green, an electric energy trying to break through.

‘The King of Slytherin will soon be dethroned. It’s about time there was a new ruler. Someone less soft.’ Theo joined in, his high pitched voice grating on his nerves.

‘And someone who isn’t an orphan!’

The sound of laughter grew quieter as his heart thundered against his ribcage. They had no idea how much that hit him! And although he wasn’t entirely sure what had happened with Draco and his parents, the orphan remark was exactly what Adrien was.

Thanks to the Miraculous.

Thanks to his cataclysm.

Thanks to Ladybug.

‘Say that again,’ Adrien started, trying his hardest to keep himself level headed. ‘And you will regret it.’

A flash of green alerted his attention to his hand, and the ring sitting on his finger. The energy crackled from the metal, giving him a source of power and strength he’d never felt before. Adrien clenched his fist, squeezing and opening his hand time and time again, the power rippling up his arm.

‘Oh no! The big bad orphan is threatening us.’ They all started laughing before Blaise carried on. ‘We better watch out, or he’ll set the mud-blood on us.’

They laughed again. And he saw red.

Turning on his heel, he didn’t arm himself with his wand. Instead, he tightened his fist again and swung.

The impact felt good. A stress relief he didn’t know he needed. Félix was right, sometimes it was good to just use your hands to sort out situations.

Ignoring the gasps and groans, Adrien turned and made his way out of there. No one else was around. And Blaise wasn’t exactly going to go and get him into trouble, not when he’s trying to push his Alpha male status.

A smile fixed on his lips, Adrien stalked down the corridor. His hand might be burning but he couldn’t help but feel good about it.

Not knowing what else to do today, Adrien headed towards the library. He could spend a few hours there before heading back to the dormitory and taking a nap. Then there would only be a couple of hours to kill before detention started.

The library was quiet. With so many activities taking place around the castle, he wasn’t surprised. There were a couple of people playing intense games of Wizard chess and some which just seemed to be chilling by the fireplace. The atmosphere was calm and restful, exactly what he needed at this moment.

Time had moved quickly since they’d been stranded here. So much had happened he was losing track of when. And if he was being serious, he’d probably say he was losing his mind. His thoughts drifted to Plagg, not for the first time since they’d arrived. He missed the kwami so much. After the death of his mother, and emotional neglect from his father, his kwami had become his closest friend. He meant everything to Adrien, and regardless of whether Plagg would say it or not, he knew he meant something to Plagg.

Adrien stopped in front of the Hogwarts crest. The shield split into four parts, each framing one of the founder's symbols. The badger and raven meant nothing to him, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the lion and the snake. If he’d been here for his schooling, he had no doubt he would be in Gryffindor, a cat through and through. His bond with Plagg only cemented the theory, but he was in Slytherin. A snake. His time with the snake Miraculous evidence that this wasn’t the house for him.

Homesick overcame him, the snake bringing back memories of his friends. He wondered if Luka had figured it out, that the Adrien and Marinette back in Paris weren’t him and Marinette. Maybe even Félix had. Both of them were intuitive enough to know that someone as cold hearted as Draco wasn’t him. Then there was Nino. He must know too! It wouldn’t make sense for him not to. They were best friends, they knew each other.

A sharp pain shot through his finger, causing him to hiss. He glanced down, a throb of green pulsating from the face of the signet ring. Did the ring respond to the school? He’d never even considered that the Miraculous could belong here. Maybe they were in an alternate reality. Maybe the Miraculous belonged here too, which would mean if he could find Plagg, and maybe Tikki or Fluff, they could find their way back home.

Home. The word had never sounded so sweet.

Trying to figure out what books would be best to look at, Adrien headed back into the archives. He would need to go way back in history to try and figure this out, then he would need to find a way of tracking down the Miraculous. He lifted a hand in front of his face, studying his ring. He could already have one. This could be a Miraculous. He knew they changed to suit the owner. A flashing thought of how it looked for Marinette crossed his mind, before he quickly pushed it away. He didn’t want to think about her, but somehow she appeared without effort.

Adrien rubbed his head aggressively, hoping he could push her out. He made his way to the seating area at the back of the library, taking the moment to reconfigure and reevaluate what he was doing. Taking in the silence, Adrien tried to think about how he could get through this. What he would need to do to make sure, when he returned to Paris, he could look everyone in the face. He was falling apart here, and there. The wielder of destruction.

‘I didn’t think I’d ever see the great Draco Malfoy looking so sorry for himself.’ A shadow loomed over him. Tall and lanky, with a mess of hair shooting out in all directions.

‘What do you want, Weasel?’

Adrien gazed up into Ron’s intense blue eyes — eyes like a brewing storm — and judging by his stance, he was definitely here to unleash one.

‘You know, that’s the most Malfoy thing I’ve heard you say in the last few days…apart from when you were shouting at Marinette.’

‘Listen, Weasley, why don’t you—’ Adrien started, but then—‘Marinette?’

Ron gave a small, tentative smile before sitting down beside him. Adrien watched him closely, his mind racing. Did he know? Had Marinette told him?

‘She… she filled me in,’ Ron said after a moment. ‘I, er, didn’t believe her at first because… bloody hell, that’s quite a story.’

Adrien scoffed. That was definitely one way to put it. ‘Yeah,’ he replied weakly.

They sat in silence, the air thick with unanswered questions. Adrien couldn’t begin to understand why Ron was here. Had Marinette sent him? Was Ron her big backup plan? He tried to think of something to say — something to do — but nothing came to mind, except telling Ron to leave… or maybe just leaving himself.

‘You know, I lost my brother in the war.’ Ron’s sudden admission caught Adrien off guard. He’d heard about the amount of students who died, but no one ever seemed to go into detail. The war being nothing more than a past event and one which everyone seemed to want to move on from. Of course, he knew Harry had lost pretty much his whole family, but not a lot had been said about the others.

‘How old was he?’

‘20,’ Ron said. He sighed and rubbed his hands over his eyes. Adrien watched, not wanting to interrupt whatever this was that Ron was about to share. ‘His twin, my brother George, he’s barely been out of their room since it happened. It was hard on us all, but for him, being so close it was ten times worse.’

Adrien nodded. ‘I can understand that.’

‘So, I know it’s not exactly the same, but I wanted to let you know that I understand the pain you must feel. The ache and the utter betrayal. I blamed myself, I blamed Hermione, I blamed my parents, my friends. And for a long time, I even blamed Harry.’

‘Harry? Why?’ Adrien turned on his seat to face Ron, curiosity flickering in his eyes.

Ron shrugged, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Adrien could sense something unspoken, something Ron hadn’t shared before.

‘If it wasn’t for Harry, for how much my family adored him, we wouldn't have gotten involved. I envied Malfoy. Him and his family—they ran when it all started. They went far away and survived. But they were the enemy, the ones on the other side.’

‘How did you get over it?’ Adrien asked, his voice soft with concern.

Sighing, Ron stood up and walked over to the bookcase, idly picking up books and flicking through them. ‘Hermione,’ he muttered quietly, the words floating toward Adrien like a whisper carried by the wind.

They remained in silence. The quiet between them was thick, a kind of unspoken understanding settling into the space. Adrien watched Ron, waiting for him to say more, but the words didn’t come. Ron was still, his fingers tracing the spine of a book, lost in thought.

After what felt like an eternity, Adrien spoke softly, breaking the stillness. ‘It’s hard, isn’t it? Letting go of all that anger. All those people to blame.’

Ron nodded slowly, his eyes distant. ‘Yeah. It’s not easy. But... sometimes, you realise that holding onto it doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t fix what’s broken.’ He turned to face Adrien, his expression softening. ‘Hermione helped me see that. She reminded me that it’s not about who’s to blame. It’s about finding a way to move forward, even when you don’t think you can. We might have hit the end of the line of our relationship, but she’ll always be my guardian angel.’

Adrien took a deep breath, feeling the weight of Ron’s words.

‘I don’t know if I’m ready to forgive yet,’ Adrien admitted, his voice quiet. ‘But... I could try and speak to her again.’

Ron’s lips curled into a small, understanding smile. ‘That’s all anyone can do. Just try.’

The room was quiet again, but this time, the silence felt different. It wasn’t uncomfortable. It was a space where, for the first time in a long while, Adrien felt like he wasn’t alone in his struggle.

‘How about you?’ Adrien finally asked. ‘I thought I heard things were tense with you and Hermione, because of…well…me?’

Moving back to the bench, Ron sat down next to Adrien. ‘You, well, Draco, was the easiest thing to blame. Myself and Hermione were very much a ‘nobody else understands’ phase of our lives. We grew together, then…after everything…we grew apart. I think I was just holding on because she was the one stability I had, but somewhere in everything, I forgot she had lost people too.’

‘Who?’ Adrien asked, leaning forward, his eyes fixed on Ron. He squinted, trying to make sense of the situation, but then quickly looked away, his gaze finding the floor more captivating than he realised.

Ron gulped, his fingers running through his hair nervously. ‘Her parents,’ he whispered, almost as if saying it aloud made it more real.

Adrien’s breath hitched. ‘Did Voldemort kill them too?’ he asked, the words slipping out before he could stop them. The thought felt too unbearable to consider.

Ron shook his head slowly, sitting up straighter, his jaw tightening. ‘No,’ he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. ‘She... she put a memory charm on them. Wiped all memories of her from their lives. They don’t even know they had a daughter. They’ve been living their lives as if she was never part of it.’

A heavy weight sank deep into Adrien’s chest, his stomach twisting in disbelief. That wasn’t just a choice—it was a sacrifice. A permanent one. And now, she was helping the very person who reminded them of everything they had lost, and who had torn their world apart. No wonder Ron had been so distant, so guarded. The hurt was more complicated than just a broken friendship. It was betrayal on a scale Adrien hadn’t yet comprehended.

The silence between them grew thick as Adrien processed Ron’s words. He could feel the weight of it, the bitterness in Ron’s voice, the unspoken resentment. Hermione, despite everything, had chosen to protect her parents—yet at what cost?

‘That’s…’ Adrien’s voice faltered. ‘That’s a hell of a thing to carry.’ He shook his head, feeling the gravity of it settle over him.

Ron glanced at him, his expression somber. ‘Yeah,’ he said quietly. ‘It’s not something you just get over.’ His gaze dropped to his hands, fingers twitching with restlessness. ‘But I guess...it’s her choice. She thought it was the only way to keep them safe, even if it meant losing them forever.’

Adrien sat back, trying to digest it all. How could someone make such a decision? How could someone choose to forget their family, to erase their own existence from their parents’ memories, all to protect them? The sacrifice was unimaginable.

‘It’s hard to understand,’ Adrien murmured. ‘But I get it now. Why you feel the way you do.’

Ron met his gaze, his face softening just slightly. ‘Yeah. It’s a lot to take in. But in the end, we all have to live with our choices. Even if they don’t make sense to anyone else.’

Adrien’s mind continued to race, thoughts swirling between Hermione’s sacrifice and the weight of the choices people had to make in the face of impossible situations. He couldn’t help but think of Marinette—how she had hidden the truth about Gabriel being Monarch from him for so long. It wasn’t just a lie; it was an entire reality kept from him, one that had shaped their world in ways he was only starting to understand.

How could she make such a decision? How could she carry the burden of that secret, especially when it meant keeping him in the dark, protecting him from the truth, just as Hermione had tried to protect her parents?

Adrien glanced up at Ron, his heart heavy with the realisation that, sometimes, the hardest choices weren’t about right or wrong—they were about survival. About protecting the ones you loved, even if it meant sacrificing a part of yourself in the process. Even if it meant carrying the weight of that secret alone.

‘Sometimes, you have to make the choices no one else can make,’ Adrien said quietly, the words coming out before he fully understood their meaning. ‘Even when it tears you apart inside.’

Ron nodded, understanding flickering in his eyes. ‘Yeah,’ he said softly. ‘And sometimes, the people we love...they don’t see the cost of it until it’s too late.’

Adrien felt a lump rise in his throat. Maybe he would never fully understand why Marinette had done it. But just like Hermione, and just like Ron, maybe it wasn’t about forgiveness—it was about learning to live with the choices they had made, no matter how painful.

Chapter Text

Draco

Draco and Hermione landed back in Paris, their power-ups still pulsing as they settled on their rooftop. The glow lifted, taking their wings away and leaving them in their regular hero costumes. Draco was getting surprisingly fond of the black spandex and he couldn’t deny how good Hermione looked in red. He would need to study with her more in her Gryffindor colours when they returned home–just to get his fix.

He stepped forward, peering over the edge and scanning the surrounding rooftops. As his eyes trailed from the Arc de Triomphe to the Eiffel Tower, he couldn’t help but admire the view. They’re only been in the cabin for a day and he was already missing the blend of magic and muggle life this city brought. Maybe he could come back some day, either to work or to be a muggle tourist. He glanced over his shoulder at Hermione, who was activating something on her yo-yo, and wondered if she’d come back with him. Maybe they could even meet the real Adrien and Marinette–if they were in the same universe.

His eyes remained on her, a hologram coming from the yo-yo, her eyes set on what she was doing and fully in mission mode.

The fact an akuma was running around causing complete chaos, didn’t distract Draco from taking Hermione in. Her strong stance, her face unreadable and strong, those lips pouting as she started to formulate a plan. Gosh, those lips! He’d kissed her far too many times now for it just to be a ruse. He couldn’t deny that the past couple had been because he wanted to. She was a solid kisser! ‘Ten out of ten would definitely recommend’ kisser. Actually, scrap that, he would not  recommend, because she was his and his alone. Possessive? Yes! But he had his reasons. This whole experience was changing everything about him—everything. He just hoped he didn’t lose it all when he returned to Hogwarts. He would even be friends with Potter and Weasley, if it meant he got to keep Hermione.

He strolled towards her, trying to act confident and appealing. A smirk pulled his lips, his most smouldering smile replacing it as he gained proximity. ‘So, Granger, do you have a plan, or are we just going to wander around until we get lucky?’

She didn’t answer, his smile slightly fading as her attention went from the yo-yo to the streets, completely avoiding him.

‘We need to find the akuma before it causes more destruction. You find it and track its movements. I’ll handle the rest.’ She pressed one of the poker dots, realising an earpiece and popping it into her ear.

Finally, she glanced at him. ‘Are you okay? Do you need to use the bathroom first?’

Quickly, he turned the smoulder into something which probably looked as though, yes, he did need the bathroom. He coughed, wiping his hand over his face.

Come on, Draco! You’re a Malfoy! A pretentious ass who doesn’t get flustered by smarty pants girls in red spandex!

‘It’s just trapped wind.’ What in the name of Dumbledore’s saggy socks was that?

With a look of disgust, she began to swing her yo-yo, obviously trying to get away before he released the said ‘trapped wind’. He could imagine Plagg now: a slow clap, followed by a ridiculing he would definitely deserve.

‘Can I get you anything for that?’ Hermione asked.

Draco wanted the akuma to appear and just strike him down, because this was one of the most painful conversations he’d ever experienced in his life. He was trying to woo this girl, and instead he was turning her off with statements about his current intestinal situation.

‘No, no! It’s fine. I’m sure once I get moving it’ll ease.’

Circe’s curses! Just stop talking!

‘Okay, if you’re sure?’ She asked.

Draco nodded. ‘Yes! Absolutely!’ He quickly changed the subject to something more important than gas. ‘Shall I go?’ He pointed over his shoulder in the opposite direction, Hermione nodding.

‘Yep. I’ll just go…’ She pointed over her shoulder in the opposite direction, slowly turning and sending the yo-yo out to hook onto a chimney pot.

‘Yeah, sure! I’ll wait a moment, just…in case.’ He wanted to cry. To shrivel up into a ball and become a Mandrake.

‘Call me if you need me.’ And with that she swung off, leaving him alone with his stomach issues. He groaned in frustration. Son of a banshee! What the hell was he thinking?

‘It’s just trapped wind,’ he said, mocking himself. He grabbed his staff and pressed the end, the earpiece popping out. ‘Just leave me here so I can fart in peace, Miss Goddess Ladybug. I bet Weasley’s never spoken to her about his bowel movements.’

He pressed the paw print on his staff and pushed off the rooftop, extending it high into the sky to get a better view of the city.

The sounds of the streets faded as he rose, the cars below nothing more than ants scurrying through the city. Being able to do this was incredible! Adrien must love it—especially with his dull, boring home life. Draco would give anything to take this power home with him. Forget a wand—he wanted the power to blow things up.

A sudden scream echoed from near the Eiffel Tower. Draco twisted on his staff, scanning the area, just as a purple bolt of lightning shot toward him.

‘Oh, brilliant,’ he muttered, swinging down just in time to avoid the blast. ‘Back again, are we? What’s the matter — couldn’t find anyone else to shock with your sparkling personality?’

Ha! That was a good one!

Righting himself, he started to move in the direction of the akuma, one finger pressing to his earpiece. ‘Near the Eiffel Tower, M’Lady.’

‘I’m on it!’ Her soft voice sounded back instantly. He surveyed the scene, catching the red blur as it whizzed past, sailing over rooftops.

He dropped down onto all fours and started running in the direction he saw the strike, only to skid to a halt as a second strike hit from another direction. Eyes darting side to side, he tried to find the red blur again, his heart pounded when he didn’t see anything.

‘Hermione? Where are you?’ The thumping in his chest intensified. There was no sighting of her. ‘Come on, Hermione! Come on!’ He placed a finger to his ear and called her name. Once. Twice. Three times. There was no reaction.

Come on! Come on! Come on!

‘Hermione?’ He tried again, fighting hard to keep the worry at bay. He moved faster, bouncing over the rooftops, and gliding through the air. She had to be somewhere here! She just had to!

‘Draco?’ His name in his ear had him skidding off a rooftop, falling down the buildings and onto the road below. Thank goodness, cats fell onto their feet.

‘Are you okay?’ he said, straightening himself up.

‘Yes, I’m fine…Did you just fall off a rooftop?’

He smiled. At least she was here and could see him, but he wouldn’t allow her to think he’d made another mistake.

‘Nah, I spotted something down below so went to check it out.’

A thud sounded behind him, and it took all control to not run to her and kiss her. ‘You know,’ she said, clipping her yo-yo back onto her hip. ‘I didn’t expect to get used to this…but I think I’m starting to enjoy it.’

Draco smiled. ‘Me too.’

Her lips twitched into a smile. She was focused, but there was a warmth in her eyes. He could tell she was thinking the same thing as he was.

‘This way,’ she said, hooking the yo-yo and heading from the closed alleyway out into the open street.

It looked familiar, one which they had definitely been down once or twice since they’d arrived here. And as he took in the corner, he understood why. They were near the boulangerie.

A purple haze surrounded the area, a surge of negative energy hitting them as they moved closer. The air was thick, the presence of the akuma growing stronger by the second. Yet, there were no signs of it.

Draco caught Hermione’s eye, the unease evident on her face. ‘This is it, isn’t it? It’s close.’

Hermione nodded, gripping her yo-yo tightly. ‘Stay alert.’

Through the mist, a powerful form swirled the air, moving it in the most unnatural ways. It became clear that the source of the disturbance was no mere wind or natural force. The figure materialised, tall and shadowy, its shape shifting as though made of the very mist itself. Draco's heart pounded in his chest, but he didn't let it show. He kept his focus sharp, his hand subtly inching toward his staff.

‘Stay calm,’ Hermione whispered, her voice steady but with an edge of urgency. ‘It’s nothing more than an apparition in Defense Against the Dark Arts.’

The figure twisted, its outline growing more defined with each passing second. It was no longer just a swirl of mist—it had taken on the form of something dark, something ancient. A sense of dread seeped into the air, like a cold, suffocating presence.

‘Do you think this is the leader? One in control of the Butterfly Miraculous,’ Draco asked, barely a whisper, his eyes locked on the shadow.

Hermione didn't answer immediately. She was studying the figure, her fingers flexing around her yo-yo as if she were ready to spring into action. ‘I don't know,’ she said, her voice tight. ‘But I don’t think we have the luxury of waiting to find out.’

A chill ran down Draco’s spine, his breath catching in his throat as the figure continued to take shape, its form becoming clearer with each passing moment. It wasn’t just any shadow—it was a haunting, intricate silhouette. The figure’s body seemed to be that of a woman, tall and slender, with wings that unfolded like a butterfly’s. The wings shimmered with an iridescent, ethereal glow, the delicate patterns shifting in ways that seemed impossible. The creature’s face was beautiful, but in a way that was unnatural, almost too perfect. Her eyes glowed with an unsettling pale light, and her lips curled into a smile that made Draco’s skin prickle.

Hermione’s grip tightened on her yo-yo, but there was something else in her gaze—a hint of recognition, a flicker of horror. ‘It’s her,’ she whispered. ‘The Lamia Butterfly.’

Draco’s eyes widened. The Lamia Butterfly? He had heard whispers of the creature in the darker corners of wizarding history. It was said to be a dark, ancient entity—a powerful being capable of manipulating time and memory, often associated with the Veela of old, but far more dangerous. The Lamia Butterfly was a twisted creature, an amalgamation of dark magic and beauty, whose very presence could leave a person entranced, lost in an illusion of perfection–or entirely in another place or time.

‘It’s said to have been created long ago by dark wizards,’ Hermione continued, her voice tense. ‘To control minds, to warp reality. The wings... they’re like Veela wings, but laced with dark magic. If you’re not careful, it can trap you in a memory loop, or worse, feed off your very essence.’

‘Or send us to another dimension?’ he queried, Hermione nodding. This was it. This was their answer to return home, the answer to getting out of these bodies. The only issue was they needed to defeat her, to steal the Miraculous and use it for themselves. Plagg had mentioned how the Miraculous had been used with Hogwarts, within the Wizarding World, but he’d never mentioned there was a missing one. Not in their universe anyway.

Draco clenched his fists, the weight of the situation sinking in. This wasn’t just an ordinary dark creature—they were facing something ancient, something beyond anything they’d encountered before. ‘We need to destroy it, fast.’

Hermione nodded, her eyes never leaving the creature’s hypnotic wings. ‘It’s times like this I wish I had my wand.’

The Lamia Butterfly’s wings fluttered with an eerie grace, and as they did, the air around them seemed to shift. A soft, haunting melody filled the mist, luring Draco's thoughts to distant memories. But he fought it. He couldn’t afford to be caught in the enchantment. His mind remained focused, and with a swift movement, he drew his staff.

‘We can do this,’ Draco said, his voice firm. ‘Together.’

Chapter Text

Hermione

Hermione watched as the Lamia Butterfly emerged from the hidden depths of mist and fog. She was slightly sent off balance as she was pulled between curiosity to see more and heroism to battle. She was beautiful. Almost like a Siren from the Black Lagoon, begging them to come closer and meet their ultimate demise. She glanced at Draco, knowing full well how men get dragged towards such creatures with adulterated ease, but he stood there. Firm. Calm. Ready.

Stepping back, she began to swing her yo-yo again, poised to make the first move. But Draco’s hand came out towards her, stopping her from advancing forwards.

It stopped, hovering over the entrance to the boulangerie, before turning and glaring at them. The creature’s piercing, glowing purple eyes flickered in their direction, their stance changing and recognition crossing them.

‘Ladybug… Chat Noir… I’m surprised to see you here.’ Lamia’s voice was soft, but the deadly undertone was impossible to miss.

‘Why wouldn’t we be here?’ Draco shot back, his confidence sharp and sudden. Hermione watched him, half-impressed, half-worried. ‘Though I’m surprised you’re here. Shouldn’t you be off pollinating flowers or something?’

Hermione’s eyes swept over the scene, her mind working fast. This wasn’t just some ordinary threat—there was something off, something dangerous. And the way Lamia spoke… it sent a chill through her. Did this creature know who they were? Did she know they hadn’t been in Paris? Fear coursed through her as she considered that maybe this was some kind of test, but as another bolt of purple lightning shot up into the sky, she knew there was no time to hesitate. They had to act, and fast.

‘Well?’ Draco called out, twirling his staff with practiced ease. ‘Are we going to fight, or are you just here to hiss and look dramatic?’

Without warning, Lamia snapped the lightning back down and spread her wings wide, unleashing a torrent of dark magic that rippled through the air, surging straight toward them.

The mist thicken around them, illusions starting to creep into Hermione’s mind, distorting her vision. She grabbed her head, focusing on keeping reality in check. Turning to look at Draco, she could see him mirroring the action. The illusions affected him in a startling way which had him screaming. Hermione reached out, removing one hand from her ear to place it on his arm. He flinched, the touch coming as a surprise to him. She smiled and nodded at him.

It’s not real, she mouthed. Fight it!

Draco nodded and took a deep breath, straightening up and removing his hands from his ears.

A soft, haunting melody filled the air, wrapping around them like a ghost of the past. It carried memories—of pain, of love. The call of a siren.

Everything came rushing back to her. The warmth of evenings spent by the fire with Harry, Ron, and Ginny. The ache of lost moments with her parents. But as the music wove its spell, she couldn’t help but study Draco. His reflection in the song was different from hers. His face flickered—joy, then pain, then something far worse. The bad memories swallowed the good, as they always did. There were too many.

‘Draco,’ she whispered, reaching for him. ‘Draco, look at me.’

He didn’t move. His face was drawn, tortured, lost.

‘Kitty.’ She tried again, this time shaking him lightly.

He remained frozen in time, his head slowly shaking as whispered denials slipped from his lips. Apologies. Whimpers. Sobs.

‘Chat!’ Desperate now, she placed a hand to his face, turning his head until their eyes met. She held him there, grounding him, pulling him back. ‘You trust me?’ she whispered.

His gaze searched hers, his face still solemn, still broken—but life was returning.

‘With everything.’

In aim of deflection, Hermione grabbed her yo-yo and spun it in front of them. The strikes were sent back at her foe, each deflection an aim to disarm her, stalling her long enough that one of them could land a blow.

Draco stood beside her, swinging his staff to help counter the movements, aiming them back at her like a pro-baseball player. She gave him a small smile, Draco returning it before striking another beam out the way.

‘If I can create a barrier…’ He hit another beam back with force. ‘…you could move forward.’

Yo-yo still circling, Hermione glanced around the scene. It could work. She could use Marinette’s balcony as an anchor for the yo-yo and flip herself behind the butterfly. From there, they could weaken the Lamia from both sides.

‘Only if you promise me one thing? You won’t get hit.’

He turned his head to study her, his staff still moving strong and steady. ‘I promise.’

As Lamia opened her wings, sending out another powerful mist, Ladybug moved—fast and elusive.

Seeming to miss Hermione’s movements, Lamia spoke again. Taunting them, her voice a low, hypnotic murmur. ‘You think your little secrets are safe? I’ve seen the way you protect your identity... so afraid that the truth will ruin everything. I know what you are, Ladybug. And I know who you care about most.’

Hermione landed on the balcony and quickly ran to the railing, leaning over to look down at Lamia. She couldn’t know? Could she? Yet, here she was, outside Marinette’s family’s boulangerie, poising her attack—and like a fool, Hermione had brought herself here too.

Her breathing became laboured. Short, sharp breathes adding to her anxiety. She searched for Draco, catching the hardlines of his face as he watched Lamia. He moved his eyes to the boulangerie, before slowly tilting his head up causing Lamia to follow the trail.

Hermione watched as her eyes widened, and a smile spread across her lips. Before Hermione could prepare herself for an attack, Lamia vanished in a flash of mist, her wings flapping once more, sending waves of dark energy across the street.

The area was eerily quiet. The butterfly gone, but leaving something behind: a dark feeling of dread in the air.

Grabbing her yo-yo, Hermione threw it up into the air and called for her Lucky Charm. She watched as it spun quickly around in circles, summoning her miraculous power in a vibrant burst of light. Another card. Damn!

In a matter of seconds, Draco landed silently beside her, his head close to hers as they continued to study the card.

‘Another one,’ he said, taking it from her and twisting it through his fingers. They were missing something with this…they must be.

‘We need to check the cards,’ she said. ‘If the butterfly knows about Marinette, she might try something more dangerous.’

Taking the card back from Draco, Ladybug placed it into her yo-yo. ‘We need to hide the cards and head back to the cabin,’ she said, her tone urgent. ‘If she thinks she knows Ladybug’s true identity, that’s where she’ll head next.’

‘They’re in the safe in Adrien’s room. Come on.’

Without another word, they launched into the air, cutting through the sky toward the Agreste Mansion. As they landed in Adrien’s room, Ladybug grabbed the card from her yo-yo. They quickly de-transformed, the familiar light of their transformations fading. Then, they made their way toward Adrien’s safe.

Plagg gave them the combination, and Draco pressed the buttons. They both held their breath, and then the satisfying click of the mechanism unlocking echoed through the room. Draco pulled the cards from the safe and handed them over to Hermione, who immediately started turning them over in her hands.

She studied the fronts and backs of the cards, searching for some kind of hidden detail or clue, but it was as though something was missing. She placed one card alongside the others...nothing. A sense of frustration began to bubble up inside her. Shuffling them again, her brow furrowed in concentration. Never in her life had she failed to solve a puzzle. She was the puzzle champion! Yet here she was, stumped by a simple pack of playing cards.

‘What am I missing?’ she muttered, flipping the cards over once more.

Tikki flew to hover on her shoulder. ‘Deep breaths, Hermione. Just close your eyes and focus, you’ll get there.’

Hermione did as her kwami said. Closing her eyes and clearing her mind. Focusing. Thoughts and images swirled through her head, the cards morphing and changing and…

‘Illusions,’ she said suddenly, her eyes flying open and staring at the cards in her hands.

He followed her gaze down to them and smiled.

‘Illusions,’ he said quietly, holding his hand out for the cards. ‘Cards, magic, Lamia…it’s all based on illusions.’ He fanned the cards out, before twisting them around, surprisingly skilled.

‘A card trick,’ Hermione said, her voice tight with concern. ‘Cheap Muggle magic.’ The words slipped out before she could think, and her face immediately flushed, hot with the embarrassment of her slip-up. Draco let out a low chuckle, clearly amused by her mistake.

‘You said that, not me.’

‘I—’ She squeaked, quickly coughing to clear her throat. ‘I didn’t mean to.’

Draco chuckled again, closing the cards and taking them back to the safe. ‘I’m not judging. I’m just glad to see you letting your hair down for once. Though I do miss the wild curls. Tell me, what do you put on it to tame it?’

Hermione rolled her eyes, trying to suppress the grin that tugged at the corners of her mouth. She wandered around Adrien’s room, her gaze falling on a bowl of sweets on his computer table. She unwrapped one and handed it to Tikki, who took it eagerly, buzzing around her with excitement. As Hermione continued to scan the desk, her eyes landed on a flyer.

The Spring Fling.

Her heart skipped a beat, torn between two realisations: Adrien and Marinette would miss their night together, and she would never have a date for something like that. Not until she sorted herself out. She sighed, her fingers lightly tracing the edges of the flyer.

‘Are you ready to go back?’ Draco asked, breaking her from her thoughts. Plagg was floating nearby, nibbling on a triangle of Camembert, looking entirely unbothered by the situation.

Hermione gave a small nod, stuffing the flyer back under a pile of papers on the desk. ‘Yeah, I guess so.’ She turned toward Draco, who was still smirking, and sighed again. ‘Let's go.’

Calling on their transformations, they powered up and flew straight back to the cabin, hoping no one had seen them disappear.

A short time later, they’d landed where they’d left their Super Soakers, Hermione a little disappointed they never had a chance to use them on anyone. She would have loved to have chased after Cerise, jumping out on her and soaking her. The girl deserved it!

Heading in the direction of the cabin, Draco grabbed her arm. ‘We can’t go in without looking like something ‘happened’ in the bush.’

‘Something happened? Like what? We found The Gruffalo?’

‘The what?’

Hermione crossed her arms, tilting her head as she looked at him. Did his parents never read to him? Actually, forget that, of course they wouldn’t have, that would have meant they cared. ‘What were you thinking?’

She watched him scan the area, before grabbing her hand and leading her deeper into the woods. ‘Are you going to murder me?’ she hissed.

Draco stopped and looked at her like she’d gone insane. ‘Of course not! If I murdered you, I wouldn’t be able to kiss you again.’

‘Y-you want to kiss me again?’

This time it was Draco’s cheeks that pinked. ‘If the opportunity arises where Adrien will need to kiss Marinette, I can’t see anything wrong with that.’

She raised an eyebrow at him.

He sighed. ‘Roll on the ground.’

The demand took her off guard. ‘What?’

‘You heard me. Roll on the ground.’

‘Why?’

‘Look, I’ll do it too.’ He dropped down onto the wood flooring and began to roll around.

She snorted. ‘You look like you’ve gone insane.’

‘I’m starting to think I have.’ He stopped, staring up at her from his position on his back. He smiled and she couldn’t help smiling back.

‘Why do you want me to roll around?’

He placed his hands under his head, his bicep’s flexing with the movement. Yikes! She hadn’t seen muscles that big in real life–ever.

‘You want us to look like we’ve been having…’ Hermione trailed off, not wanting to say the word out loud in front of Draco. Although the thought had crossed her mind a couple of times, having the fantasy was different to saying the word.

‘Say it Granger…you know you want to.’

His eyebrows wiggled in the most provocative way, and she had an overwhelming urge to kick a pile of leaves over his face.

‘Think a lot of yourself, don’t you?’

‘Marinette! Adrien!’ The sounds of their names put her in a panic. She surveyed the area around them, trying to find whomever was searching for them through the thick trees.

‘Marinette!’ Her name was shouted again. Whereas the first one was female, this one was male. It seemed like a search party. ‘Marinette!’

Twigs snapped over to the right of where they were, leaves crunching alongside the sharp snap, as the crowd moved closer and closer.

‘What’s it going to be, M’Lady?’ Draco remained on the ground, hands still behind his head and looking more and more smug.

Hermione looked to the side one last time, before diving forwards onto Draco’s body, the two of them rolling through the leaves and broken twigs—some coming a lot sharper than expected.

Finally stopping with Hermione on top, she grabbed his hands and lifted them over his head. His blue eyes looked almost silver as the light reflected against them. She was transfixed. How had she never noticed the colour changes before?

She was breathing heavily, her cheeks flushed with red as she continued to focus on his face. Then, she was moving forward, gravitating towards his lips with her own, she stopped only a breath away. They remained eye to eye, his fingers threading through hers as they remained over his head.

‘Kiss me.’ His voice was hoarse as he spoke, the world around them freezing and allowing them this moment, this real moment.

‘Okay.’ The words were thick, hoarse. Her face gravitated towards him and closed the margin that had been left between them.

But fate was against them, because as soon as her lips brushed his the crunching got closer and suddenly they weren’t alone.

‘There you two are!’ Alya burst through the branches, appearing a couple of feet away from them.

‘Sorry,’ Draco said from his position on the ground, utterly unapologetic. ‘Saw an opportunity and took it.’ He smirked up at Hermione, and her head spun. How was he being so calm?

Scrambling to her knees, Hermione pushed herself upright, brushing off stray leaves and tugging down her top — which was revealing far more midriff than she was comfortable with.

‘Yeah,’ she sighed, determinedly keeping her eyes off her smug-looking partner, still lounging like he had all the time in the world. ‘You know how it gets.’

Alya was suddenly joined by two more people: Nino and Cerise. The latter’s glare was so fierce, Hermione was half-convinced she was about to be reduced to ash.

‘Dude!’ Nino called, striding over and offering Draco a hand up. ‘I never knew you had this in you!’

As he stood, Draco caught Hermione’s eye and wiggled his eyebrows. ‘What can I say? Can’t keep my hands off her.’

Hermione’s face heated instantly, and she seriously considered finding a bucket of ice to carry around.

‘Well, if you two lovebirds are done with your little PDA,’ Alya said, smirking in a way that made Hermione’s stomach drop, ‘we’re heading down to the lake. Go get your swimsuits.’ With a pointed glance, she spun on her heel and sauntered back toward the cabins.

Before Hermione could move, Draco stepped closer, his hands settling on her hips as he dipped his head to her shoulder.

‘What are you doing?’ she hissed, freezing when his lips brushed just beneath her earlobe.

‘We still have company,’ he whispered, his breath warm against her skin.

Hermione’s eyes flicked up — and sure enough, they collided with Cerise’s. The look of pure, blistering disdain on her face was enough to make Hermione’s stomach twist.

Without thinking, Hermione laced her fingers through Draco’s, the warmth of his hand steadying her. She kept her head high as they walked, even though her heart was pounding.

As they passed Cerise, the other girl’s eyes burned into them, and just as they drew level, she muttered under her breath to Draco, but just loud enough to make sure Hermione heard too.

‘Guess it doesn’t take much to lower your standards.’

Hermione’s steps faltered, but Draco didn’t miss a beat. His grip on her hand tightened, and without even looking back.

‘Funny — I was just thinking the same thing about your attitude,’ he shot back coolly.

Cerise’s sharp inhale was satisfying, but Hermione barely had time to savor it before Draco tugged her along, his pace quickening.

‘You okay?’ he murmured, his voice low.

Hermione squeezed his hand in response, her cheeks still flushed. ‘I will be. But you’re terrible.’

‘You love it,’ Draco teased, and though she didn’t dignify that with an answer, the corner of her mouth twitched upward. ‘I don’t trust her,’ Draco said, keeping his voice low.

‘Me neither.’ Hermione responded, resisting the urge to look back.

Chapter Text

Marinette

Marinette slipped into the Transfiguration classroom, settling into a desk about halfway down the room, pulling her skirt down as she slid into place. She positioned her bag beside her, pulling out her notebook with a quiet sigh. Before coming here, she had made a quick trip to the library, hoping to find something—anything—that could lead her back home. The absence of her parents and Alya weighed on her even more now, especially with the fallout between her and Adrien still lingering in the air.

The faint tick of the clock on the wall was the only sound filling the otherwise quiet room. The sharp scent of parchment and ink lingered in the air as Headmistress McGonagall worked her way through a pile of assigned essays.

She grabbed the two books she had found: The Mirror of Possibilities and The Tome of Time. Both appeared to delve into the concept of alternate realities, with one even going so far as to describe them in intricate detail. Marinette flicked through, attention drawn to a moving photograph of what could have happened if Harry hadn't succeeded. The outcome was terrifying.

Every now and then, McGonagall glanced over the rim of her glasses, Marinette not entirely sure what she expected to find. It wasn’t as though Marinette was a troublemaker, and by the sounds of it Hermione wasn’t either. It was just an unfortunate situation–one which Blaise should take full blame for. He was the one who raised his wand at Adrien.

Marinette shifted uncomfortably in her seat, glancing nervously at the clock. This was going to be the longest hour of her life.

The door to the classroom creaked open again, the sound of pounding footsteps echoing around the room as they drew closer. Marinette’s spine stiffened, the sudden awareness that she wasn’t alone—yet also the realisation that this wasn’t Adrien.

‘Well, well, well... Granger gets a detention,’ the newcomer said with a sarcastic drawl, clearly enjoying the situation. ‘Sounds like a holiday miracle, doesn’t it?’

Trying to ignore Pansy’s taunts, she closed her book and turned slightly in her seat. ‘I didn’t deserve this detention,’ she muttered, avoiding eye contact as she tried to focus on the task at hand.

Pansy looked her up and down, then chuckled. ‘Of course Granger would bring work to do. Always the teacher's pet, aren’t you? Miss Smarty Pants.’

Marinette shook her head, swivelling back to her book and keeping her attention firmly on the pages in front of her. There was no point responding, it would only encourage Pansy to push more. She just needed to get through the next hour and then she could hide away in her dorm room and try out some of these spells. One of them had to work.

Closing The Mirror of Possibilities, Marinette shifted her attention to The Tome of Time, studying the ancient specialised attributes, such as allowing manipulation of time, understanding the past and future events, or exploring the consequences of different timelines. Casually flicking through the pages, she barely glanced up as McGongall left the classroom to find a drink.

‘I guess it's too much for you to just relax, isn’t it? Always so perfect, always so focused. Don’t you ever get tired of being the good girl?’

Marinette clenched her fists under the desk, forcing herself to remain calm as she continued flicking through the pages. The door behind her creaked open again, the hair on the back of her neck standing to attention as another pair of footsteps worked their way inside. Even without gazing behind her, her body knew who it was, the same reaction taking over which happened time and time again.

Adrien was here.

Unable to keep her focus on the page she was reading, she tilted her head, glancing at the occupant of the steps.

Adrien moved to the opposite side of the room, sitting down and pulling out a notebook and textbook.

‘You’ve done this to him, Granger. Made him want to learn.’

The way Pansy was talking, you’d think Hermione had introduced Draco to some sort of crazy cult. What was so bad about him being educated?

As she went to open her mouth with a smart-mouthed retort, Pansy moved, and with a sudden, sharp motion she knocked Marinette’s books onto the floor. Marinette quickly glanced at Adrien, he hadn’t even flinched.

‘Ooopsie!’ Pansy said, her voice as sickly as honey.

Sighing, Marinette crouched onto the ground, Pansy moving to her side and pushing a couple of the books out of the way.

‘Draco is mine, Granger,’ Pansy sneered, her voice low and threatening. ‘Stay away from him, or you’ll regret it.’

Marinette froze, taken aback by the audacity of Pansy’s words. From everything she knew about Hermione and Draco, there was no way either of them would be interested in the other. Grabbing her books and stacking them neatly, Marinette felt the heat of confrontation rise in her gut. Pansy wasn’t going to let this go, and without a firm denial from her, she would just keep coming back with more.

‘There is nothing going on between me and Malfoy,’ Marinette replied firmly, her voice steady despite the anger bubbling inside her. She was fed up defending herself, and fed up with this place. Her nose tingled as she stood, placing her books back on her desk and trying to maintain her composure.

She sat back, catching another glimpse of Adrien reading as she did. Even through all the commotion he hadn’t even looked up. She couldn’t help but wonder if he had heard them talking about Draco. She wondered if he’d even care.

With a swift movement, she reopened The Tome of Time and found the paragraph she was on.

Where the hell was McGonagall?

Behind them, the door creaked open once more, Blaise entering and sitting himself at the back of the room, a sigh leaving his lips as he pulled out a textbook.

‘I don’t care what you think, Granger. You stay away from my Draco. If I see you anywhere near him again, you’ll regret it.’ Pansy had moved forward over the back of Marinette’s chair, her voice hot in her ear. Marinette winced. The hot, salty breath was not exactly what she wanted or needed right now.

She rubbed her eyes, before tugging her hands through her hair. ‘I told you already. There’s nothing going on between me and Draco.’

‘You think I’m just going to let you have him? Not going to happen,’ Pansy’s voice growing clearly impatient.

‘There’s nothing happening,’ Marinette hissed, annoyed that she’d let her emotions overcome her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, imagining Tikki was coaching her.

Just close your eyes and breathe. Focus, Marinette.

Opening her eyes, she focused on the books and her notes, ignoring the sharp comments from Pansy, and the glare coming from Blaise. For the next fifty minutes, she even managed to ignore Adrien. Her heart was bleeding out more every second that she did.

By the time detention was over, Marinette still had zero ideas on how to get home. The alternate universes were a lot harder to conjure than she originally thought, and with her lack of experience, it would be quite dangerous too. She began to pack her books away, McGonagall excusing herself and leaving them to clear out when they were ready, and she was ready now.

In a couple of the books, it had been described as something called a Pensieve, a shallow, stone basin, often engraved with runes and symbols, filled with a silvery, mist-like substance. If she could find one of these, she could make Adrien watch what happened, allowing him to see what she went through when she fought his father, and the promises he made her keep. The only problem was that the textbooks hadn’t exactly been forthcoming with where exactly you could find one. But still, she’d tabbed the page and hopefully she could get Adrien to read it—even if it meant passing it on through Luna.

Lost in her own thoughts, she had missed Pansy picking up The Mirror of Possibilities and launching it over her shoulder, hurling it to the back of the room.

‘Not funny!’ Marinette hissed, shoving the remainder of her belongings in her bag and slinging it over her shoulder.

Pansy giggled. ‘Oh, is the baby going to cry over an itty bitty book?’

Marinette felt her jaw clench. Count to 10, Marinette, slow and steady. Tikki’s sweet voice broke through the mist of anger clouding her vision in red. She stood, made her way to the book and picked it up, ignoring the constant comments coming from Pansy.

Just block her out! Ignore her!

Placing it firmly back in the bag, Marinette walked out of the room, a little part of her praying Adrien would follow after her—but he didn’t. Instead, she found herself outside the room, face-to-face with Theo and Blaise.

They moved forward as soon as they noticed her, their large frames looming and Theo sneering as he spoke. ‘We don’t like seeing our boy go soft. And it only started when he began hanging out with you.’

The words were laced with pointed poison as both guys eyed her up and down.

‘You’re a distraction, Granger. A bad one.’ Blaise’s voice was gruff, his glare brutal as he looked through her.

‘You want to survive this year? Play by our rules. If you go running to Potter, you’ll regret it. We’ll make sure of it.’ Pansy had left the classroom, blocking Marinette between the three of them.

Her fingers unconsciously searched her earlobes, her mind yearning for Tikki and the power she felt with her Miraculous. But without the Ladybug, it was all up to her. To Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

‘I told you,’ she said, her voice steady, her expression a mask of calm determination. ‘There is nothing going on between me and Draco.’

Pansy’s eyes narrowed, her smirk sharp and dangerous. ‘We’re just giving you a friendly reminder, Granger. Stay out of the Slytherin’s way…or else.’

The air in the narrow hallway felt suddenly suffocating. Marinette couldn’t stand it a second longer. Gripping the strap of her bag like a lifeline, she pushed past them, head down, her feet moving without direction.

The weight of the confrontation with Pansy and her goons pressed heavily on her shoulders. Had they been watching her follow Adrien? The thought made her stomach churn. It wouldn’t surprise her—she had been trailing after him everywhere he went.

She stopped just outside the Great Hall, the warm glow and lively chatter spilling out into the corridor. Inside, she spotted Harry, Ginny, and Ron laughing with Luna, Neville, and Seamus, their faces bright, their voices light.

Marinette took a step forward. Then, froze.

She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t walk in there and pretend everything was fine, not when she felt so low and so utterly broken.

A cool breeze brushed against her hair, drawing her attention to the slightly ajar door leading to the courtyard. The evening air called to her, crisp and quiet. Maybe a few minutes outside would help. The solitude, the stillness. Maybe then she could think.

Tearing her eyes away from the warmth of her friends, she slipped through the door and made her way toward the Black Lake. The soft sounds of the castle faded behind her, replaced by the gentle lapping of water against stone.

When the lake finally came into view, the sight stole her breath. The water rippled in soft, rhythmic waves, reflecting the fading light like scattered stars. The stillness settled around her, a quiet kind of comfort. For the first time all day, the tension in her chest eased, just a little.

She continued down to the shore, pausing as she listened out to the early evening sounds. Owls hooting. Animals howling. A soft haunting song. The song carried in the wind. The melody felt almost otherworldly, pulling her forward as though calling to her.

A tightness gripped her chest, the weight of unease settling heavily over her. It whispered to her, pulling her closer to the water’s edge. Despite the evening chill prickling at her skin, the compulsion to move nearer to the water’s edge was undeniable—almost impossible to resist.

The lake stretched out before her, dark and endless, its surface rippling like it held secrets just beneath. She spotted a jagged rock jutting from the shallows and made her way toward it, the cold seeping through her shoes as she stepped closer. Carefully, she climbed onto it, the stone slick and cool beneath her hands.

Settling there, she wrapped her arms tightly around her knees, pulling them into her chest. Her chin rested on top as she stared out across the water, her breath curling in soft clouds in the air. The lake danced its hypnotic dance, gentle waves lapping against the shore — and she sat, still and silent, waiting.

Praying for some kind of sign.

Rising from the depths, Marinette watched as a Merperson appeared, its iridescent scales glimmering under the moonlight. Its voice was sweet as it spoke, yet the words were dark and full of disdain.

‘You think you’ve escaped, don’t you, dear? But you're just a pawn. Just like the others. No one is going to save you... Adrien will never care for you the way you want him to. They all use you. Alya. Luka. Paris. Chat Noir.’

Marinette stood frozen, mesmerised by the creature’s voice. It wrapped around her like silk, soft and seductive, each word slowly unraveling her sense of self. The longer she listened, the harder it became to remember why she had come here — or why she should resist.

‘We can help,’ the voice promised, gentle and coaxing, yet carrying an undertone of something darker.

Before she could think clearly, icy fingers shot out from the water, latching onto her wrists with a grip like iron. The cold burned through her skin, shocking and numbing all at once.

She gasped, but the sound barely escaped her lips before she was yanked forward. Her feet slipped, and the world tilted violently. The next thing she knew, she was falling, the freezing water rushing up to meet her.

The lake closed over her head with a silent, suffocating stillness. The cold stole the air from her lungs, and the weight of the water dragged her down. She thrashed, panic surging through her, but the hands didn’t let go. They pulled her deeper, their grip unyielding.

Shapes moved around her in the murky depths, shadowy figures with glowing eyes. The creature’s voice echoed in her mind, soft and soothing, even as fear clawed at her throat.

‘Don’t fight,’ it whispered. ‘We’ll take care of you. We’ll take away the pain.’

But as the darkness closed in and her strength faded, one thought pushed through the haze.

She didn’t want to disappear.

Chapter Text

Adrien

Adrien ran down the stairs, unsure why he suddenly felt the need to chase after Marinette. He’d seen what happened with Pansy, Theo, and Blaise, and it didn’t sit right with him. Despite his anger at Marinette for the lies, he couldn’t stand to see her tormented like that. He had stayed hidden in the classroom until the sound of their cackling laughs faded, signalling their departure. Once it grew quiet, he slipped out and headed in the direction he instinctively felt she would go–to the Great Hall.

Taking the stairs two at a time, Adrien cursed under his breath as the staircase suddenly shifted, its steps groaning with the familiar sound of magic at work. The direction he was heading in twisted, redirecting him away from where he wanted to go. He gripped the banister, cursing the unpredictability of Hogwarts' enchanted halls, his frustration building.

Glancing down, he saw the stairs connect in the opposite direction, leading him further away from the entrance. In that instant, his eyes caught sight of a streak of black hair as it disappeared through the door and into the cold night air.

Panic surged in his chest, and without thinking, he pushed off from the banister and sprinted toward the nearest exit, his footsteps echoing in the silence of the corridor.

He needed to find a way down. Now!

An unease gripped at his chest, something didn’t feel right, and when it came to Marinette, that gut feeling was usually right.

Stepping onto another staircase, it shifted again, moving towards the great entrance, and connecting into place. Adrien scurried down them, moving quickly towards the direction Marinette had gone. Coming to a stop, he checked in the hall. His eyes met Ron’s. A silent question passed between them. Did he know where she was going? The shake of his head was the only answer Adrien needed.

He surveyed the area, hoping for any sign of her, but all he could see were a group of girls walking past, engrossed in conversation, and a couple of students loitering near the entrance hall. Where had she gone?

His gaze landed on the open door, and without hesitation, Adrien made his way outside. The cold night air hit him as he stepped onto the grounds, the soft crunch of gravel underfoot breaking the stillness. He turned toward the Black Lake, his eyes scanning the horizon.

There, by the water's edge, he spotted her. She sat motionless, the faint moonlight casting an ethereal glow over her figure. The breeze tugged at her hair, and for a moment, Adrien hesitated, unsure if he should approach. But something in the way she stood, so alone and distant, pulled at him. Without thinking, he started walking toward her, his footsteps quiet on the grass, the weight of the moment hanging heavy in the air.

‘Adrien!’ The sound of heavy footsteps fell behind him, the occupiers' feet pounding against the cobblestone path as he ran. ‘Adrien!’ The voice called again.

Adrien turned slowly, surprised to see Ron chasing out after him. ‘Ron?’ he questioned, not entirely sure he wasn’t going delusional.

Ron skidded to a halt beside him, his face pale except the two red signs of exhaustion decorating his cheeks. ‘Wait!’

Unsure what to say, Adrien stood there staring, waiting for Ron to continue.

Out of breath, Ron scanned the area before talking. ‘Where is she? What did you do?’

‘Why do you think I’ve done something?’ Adrien said, crossing his arms and glaring down at Ron.

‘She looked like she’d been crying when she ran out here! I know she was in detention, and I know you were there too. So tell me—what the bloody hell did you do? I thought after our conversation we were going to give her a chance.’

‘I didn’t do anything!’ Adrien shot back, his voice rising in frustration. ‘I swear, I–’

A sudden splash cut through the argument, loud and sharp against the stillness of the lake. Both of them froze. Adrien’s head whipped toward the sound, and his breath caught in his throat.

Out on the water, a figure flailed desperately, being dragged beneath the surface by something unseen. In the dim light, Adrien saw familiar dark hair and grey jumper.

‘Marinette!’ he choked out, his heart lurching into his throat.

Ron’s shout split the air. ‘Bloody hell, merpeople.’

Adrien didn’t think. He was already moving, his feet pounding against the grass. But before he could reach the shore, the castle doors slammed open behind them.

‘What’s going on?!’ Harry’s voice rang out, but Adrien didn’t stop to explain. All he could see was Marinette’s head slipping under the water, her hand reaching out—

And then she was gone.

‘Malfoy, go and get McGonagall, we’ll try and get Hermione.’

Adrien continued moving, not listening to what Harry was saying, because right at that moment Marinette was being dragged to the depths of the lake. Underwater and drowning.

‘Malfoy! Stop!’ Harry shouted again, Adrien ignoring him. Everything Luna had told him that first day they’d met in the library came flooding back.

It says here that the Merpeople are starting to take anyone who steps foot into their waters… isn't that curious?

Taking anyone? They were taking Marinette, and suddenly the pain wasn’t as vivid anymore and the hurt wasn’t as prominent in his thoughts.

He needed to get to her, he needed to save her. Ron’s voice sounded hazed, muffled words telling Harry to leave it.

Adrien ran toward the Black Lake, his heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst. His legs burned, but the panic pushing him forward made the pain seem distant. He didn’t stop, didn’t hesitate, his wand was already in his hand.

Without thinking he cast a charm, breathlessly, over himself, and a shimmering bubble of air formed around his head just as his feet hit the edge of the water.

He dove in without a second thought.

The cold hit him like a wall, icy and unforgiving, but he pushed forward, kicking hard, his eyes straining through the murky depths. The water grew darker the deeper he went, shadows moving just beyond his vision. His mind raced. Marinette. He had to find her.

Shapes flickered in the distance—sharp, fast movements—and he knew the Merpeople were close. Luna’s words echoed in his mind again, and fear clawed at his chest. What if he was too late?

Then he saw it. A flash of black, along with a gold and red streak. Marinette’s form, her limbs limp as she was dragged deeper. Adrien’s stomach twisted. No. He wouldn’t let this happen.

He swam faster, his lungs tightening despite the bubble of air around him. The Merpeople noticed him now, their eyes glinting like knives as they hissed in warning. But Adrien didn’t stop. He raised his wand, voice clear and determined even underwater.

‘Stupefy!’

The spell shot forward, red light cutting through the dark. One of the Merpeople fell back, stunned, releasing its hold on Marinette’s arm. Adrien pushed forward, reaching for her, but there were more of them. They swirled around him, their teeth bared, their spears glinting.

‘Protego!’ he cast just in time, a shimmering shield blocking the first strike. He spun, firing another stunning spell, but they were too many and too fast.

Marinette’s face was pale, her eyes fluttering closed, and panic surged in Adrien’s chest. He had to get to her.

‘Expelliarmus!’ he shouted, disarming one of the Merpeople and sending their weapon spinning away.

He reached her at last, his fingers closing around her wrist. ‘Marinette!’ he called, his voice muffled by the water. She didn’t respond.

No. No, no, no!

Adrien’s heart pounded harder as Marinette remained unresponsive in his arms. The water around them rippled violently. The Merpeople were closing in fast, their eyes gleaming with anger. Spears were poised, and Adrien knew he couldn’t fight them all.

But then…

The ring on his finger began to glow.

A brilliant, vibrant green light pulsed from the band, brighter and fiercer than he had ever seen before. The warmth of it spread up his arm, filling his chest with a sudden surge of energy. The air seemed to crackle around him, and the water itself began to swirl.

The Merpeople froze, their eyes widening in fear.

And then the force erupted.

A powerful shockwave burst from Adrien’s body, rippling through the water like an explosion. It struck the Merpeople with incredible force. They were thrown back instantly, spinning and tumbling into the depths like ragdolls. Their weapons scattered, their shrieks faded into the distance. In seconds, the water was silent.

Adrien stared at his hand, the glow from the ring slowly dimming but still humming with an undeniable power. He didn’t know what had just happened, but he didn’t have time to think about it.

Marinette.

He adjusted his grip on her, her body still limp in his arms. The fear rose again, choking him. ‘Hold on, please,’ he whispered, his voice breaking. Regardless of the pain she’d caused him, he couldn’t imagine life without her. Everyone became a miniscule in reflection of what was happening.

The shore wasn’t far now. He swam with every ounce of strength he had, the exhaustion in his muscles nothing compared to the desperation driving him forward. Finally, his feet found the lakebed, and he stumbled onto the shore, dragging Marinette with him.

He collapsed beside her, hands trembling as he brushed her soaked hair from her face. ‘Marinette,’ he said again, his voice raw. ‘Come on. Wake up. Please!’

The ring on his finger pulsed one last time. And then the glow faded completely.

Brushing a hand through her hair, Adrien placed his ear against her chest in a search for life.

Come on, Marinette!

This couldn’t be it. She couldn’t go like this—not when there were still things left unsaid, not when there were questions unanswered. Not when there was still love to possibly give. His mind was a torrent of emotions, so he focused on one: her.

‘Marinette, please!’ Adrien’s voice cracked as he shook her gently, his hands clutching her shoulders. ‘Please!’ he cried again, his vision blurring with tears.

The ring on his finger pulsed again, the vibrant green glow flaring to life—stronger, brighter, more intense than before. The power surged through him, wild and all-consuming, a force he didn’t understand but couldn’t ignore.

He lifted his hand, staring at the ring as it burned with that vivid, electric green. New beginnings. New life. The meaning struck him with sudden clarity, and the urge—the instinct—to act overwhelmed him.

Without thinking, he placed the ring gently over her heart. His fingers trembled as they lingered there, feeling the stillness beneath them. And then, his lips lowered to hers, a feather-light brush, soft and desperate, his breath hitching at the coldness of her skin.

She was so pale. Too still. And yet, up close, he could see the signs of the life she had lived: the dark circles under her eyes, shadows of heavy nights and restless nightmares. The faintest cracks in her skin where makeup hadn’t quite hidden the exhaustion. She had carried so much. Fought so much. And she was too young for it to end like this.

‘No,’ he whispered against her lips, his voice breaking. ‘Please, no.’

He kissed her again, the sob rising in his throat, a kiss full of prayers and desperation and all the love he hadn’t been able to give her. The love he’d been too afraid to show.

The ring flared so brightly it was blinding, searing, brilliant green. The pain in his chest sharpened, stealing his breath, but he didn’t care. He poured everything he had into that kiss, every ounce of his hope and his fear and his love.

‘Come back to me,’ he whispered against her mouth. ‘Please, Marinette. Come back.’

And then…

A shuddering breath.

Her chest rose, just barely, and then again, stronger.

Adrien’s eyes flew open as her body jerked slightly beneath his hands, a weak cough escaping her lips.

‘Marinette?’ His voice cracked, disbelieving, as her eyelids fluttered.

And then she opened her eyes.

The sight of those familiar blue eyes nearly broke him. He let out a choked sob, brushing her damp hair away from her face. ‘You’re okay,’ he whispered. ‘You’re okay.’

‘Adrien…?’ Her voice was weak and hoarse, but she was there. She was alive. She turned to her side, violently coughing and bringing up large amounts of water.

And he couldn’t hold back the tears of relief as he gathered her into his arms. Lifting her up and heading towards the castle.

A crowd had made its way outside, Adrien walking past a startled Harry standing in front of Ron. He could hear the chatter coming from the students. Draco Malfoy carrying Hermione Granger—who was soaked—wasn’t an ordinary occurrence here. She buried her face into his neck, her body shaking, Adrien unsure if it was from the cold or from crying.

‘We’ll deal with this,’ Ron whispered, his face set on the crowd, ‘take her to the North corridor. You’ll find the Room of Requirement, it'll give you everything you need.’

Harry’s mouth opened. ‘What the hell is going on with you two?’

The crowd began to thicken, Slytherin’s now appearing with judgemental eyes. All he needed was for Theo and Blaise to appear and he’d never get out of here with her.

‘Thank you,’ Adrien said. Ron nodded. Adrien began to move away and stopped. ‘You can tell Harry. I feel it’s only fair that he knows.’

The corners of Ron’s lips tugged at the corners, a nod of understanding before Ron led Harry off in the opposite direction, down towards a small hut on the edge of the lake.

Adrien moved through the crowds, his steps mechanical, his body numb. The voices around him blurred into meaningless noise, just another layer of static he’d learned to tune out. It was second nature by now, blocking out the whispers, the gossip, the judgement. The hate.

‘They’re talking about us.’

Marinette’s breath ghosted against his neck, warm against his cold skin, and it sent a shiver down his spine. He clenched his jaw, his body tensing.

He didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

Because he didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know how to speak when his mind was a storm of chaos and his heart felt like it was being ripped in two. The fear of losing her had been all-consuming, suffocating. More intense than anything he’d ever felt.

And yet, now that she was here—alive, breathing—there was something else, something raw and burning in his chest.

Betrayal.

She had lied to him.

She had let him believe his father was a hero. Had held him when he cried for the man who never deserved his grief. Had stayed up with him on nights when he couldn’t sleep, listening, comforting, pretending.

She had gone with him to lay flowers at his father’s statue.

His stomach twisted violently, nausea crawling up his throat.

His heart cracked again, more pieces splintering off into the void. He barely felt the ache in his chest anymore—he was too used to it. Too used to the pain that came with loving people who only ever left him in the end.

The weight of everything crashed down on him at once—the lies, the deception, the love still tangled between them, impossible to pull apart.

His breath hitched, sharp and uneven.

He didn’t look at her. Didn’t dare to, because if he did, if he saw the guilt in her eyes, the regret, the pain, he might break completely.

And he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to put himself back together again.

The corridors were quite empty, most students either back in their dorms now, or outside making up stories about Draco and Hermione’s trip into the lake. They’d probably thought he’d tried to drown her but was caught by Harry and Ron, so was now off to finish the job at hand.

He was surprised a mob wasn’t chasing him down, demanding he put her down and stepped away. But then again he could only imagine his face at the moment, torn between the almost loss of the girl he loved and the need to run away from her and try not to care.

Marinette had grown heavy in his arms. Her eyes closed and her hands had grown limp. Her uniform was soaked, as was his. He pulled her closer, her head moving slightly and allowing him to feel her soft breaths. She was okay. She was alive. She was still breathing and right now, that was all he was going to focus on. Like many times in the past, he was around to save her. To protect her.

He needed to be Chat Noir right now. Not Adrien Agreste. Not the broken boy who had spent too long grieving a father who never deserved it. Not the boy suffocating under the weight of betrayal, love, and loss.

Chat Noir didn’t hesitate. Chat Noir acted.

His pace slowed as he entered the North Corridor, his sharp eyes scanning the stone walls. The Room of Requirement. He had heard about it. A room that only appeared when truly needed. A room that bent to the will of the desperate.

Right now, he was nothing but desperation.

His fingers brushed against the cold wall as he walked, his thoughts sharpening into a singular, focused demand. A place to think. A place to breathe. A place to be alone.

There was a sudden shift in the air.

The wall ahead of him shimmered, the stone warping and twisting until, piece by piece, an ornate door emerged from nothingness. Grand and inviting.

Adrien exhaled shakily, staring at it. For a brief second, a small part of him hesitated.

Then he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

A breathtaking space stood before him. Something that was nothing like Hogwarts’ usual stone walls and torches.

The room was warm, alive with magic. Rich, deep emerald and gold tapestries cascaded from the high ceiling, embroidered with swirling, shifting patterns that shimmered under the soft glow of floating lanterns. The air carried the faint scent of aged parchment and cinnamon, warm and familiar, like comfort pressed into every inch of the space.

To his left, a lounge stretched out before a grand, roaring fireplace. The hearth was carved from dark marble, runes etched into its surface that glowed faintly as embers crackled and popped. Plush, high-backed armchairs in deep forest green and a velvet couch the color of midnight surrounded the fire, their cushions looking inviting, practically pulling him toward them. A low, glass coffee table sat in the center, reflecting the golden firelight like liquid stars.

In the corner was a stone fountain, shimmering silver mist floating out and surrounding the edge. The fountain called for him to come closer. To see what was inside, but at the moment, his main focus was on Marinette.

To the right, a dining area took form. A grand wooden table, its surface glossy and etched with intricate vines that pulsed with an almost-living energy. Six elegant chairs with rich, burgundy cushions framed it, a chandelier of floating candles hovering above, flickering lazily as if waiting for someone to sit.

Beyond that, a kitchen area curved into the space. Dark mahogany counters and deep green tiled walls framed brass fixtures that gleamed under the soft lighting. Copper pots and enchanted utensils hovered above the stove, waiting to be used, while a small enchanted cupboard seemed to shift through its contents on its own, organising itself.

A door stood to the far left, slightly ajar, leading into a grand bathroom. The walls were lined with opulent green marble, threaded with veins of gold. A claw-footed bathtub, large enough for two, stood beneath a floating stained-glass window depicting a shimmering night sky. Silver faucets, shaped like dragons, curled along the edge, their eyes glowing faintly as steam gently rose from the water, always perfectly warm. A grand mirror, its edges lined with runes, sat above a marble sink, and a single fluffy towel levitated near the tub, waiting to be used. There was a duel sink, and a wide walk-in shower cubicle.

But it was the farthest part of the room that stole Adrien’s breath.

A massive four-poster bed sat against the back wall, its frame carved from dark oak, its emerald canopy draped in the finest silks. The mattress looked impossibly soft, the pillows plump and inviting, as if the very room knew how exhausted he was. Heavy velvet curtains could be drawn for complete privacy, and as he stepped closer, he noticed that golden embroidery laced through the fabric, spelling out soft, unreadable incantations that whispered comfort into the air.

The entire space was drenched in warmth, magic, and something else. Something deeply personal. It wasn’t just a room. It was a sanctuary. A place designed just for him.

For Chat Noir.

For the boy who no longer knew where he belonged.

It was for him. Allowing him a chance to calmly think about his next moves and consult his confusion.

He carried Marinette into the bathroom, his arms tightening around her as he took in her damp, shivering form. She was too pale, her breaths shallow, and even though she was awake, she still looked fragile, like if he let go, she might slip away.

The warmth of the room wrapped around them, the enchanted sconces casting a soft golden glow over the deep green marble. Carefully, he lowered her onto the marble floor, his hands lingering at her waist for just a second longer than necessary before he pulled away.

He turned to the shower, twisting the silver dragon-shaped faucet until a steady stream of hot water poured from above, steam curling into the air. The droplets hit the marble tiles with a rhythmic patter, filling the silence between them.

Adrien swallowed, stepping back. ‘I’ll, er, I’ll leave you to it,’ he said, voice rough, unsure.

She didn’t respond immediately. Just stood there, blinking up at him with wide, tired eyes. Eyes full of things he wasn’t ready to decipher.

So he didn’t. He turned on his heel and walked out, closing the door softly behind him.

And then he just stood there.

The warmth of the room, the flickering candlelight, the comfort the space was trying to offer, it all felt distant. His mind was a tangle of too many thoughts, too many emotions, and for the first time since diving into that lake, the weight of everything truly hit him.

He had no idea where to go from here.

No idea what came next.

Chapter Text

Hermione

‘Canon ball!’

The water flew from the lake like a burst of silver fireworks, splashing high into the air before crashing back into the waves below, soaking Hermione and making her scream. The water was freezing, sending a chill through her as her bones rattled, struggling to adjust to the sudden cold.

The water around her rippled as Draco appeared from under the surface, shaking his hair out before running a hand through it and combing it back. He should not look this good wet.

‘Come on, Granger,’ he said quietly, swimming up in front of her and grabbing her around the waist. ‘You know you want to jump off the cliff.’

She laughed, slamming a hand down between them and splashing him. ‘A week ago you would have gladly pushed me off the cliff!’

He laughed too, splashing her back and causing her to cough. ‘Who said I wouldn’t now?’

Huffing she splashed back, this time with both hands and sending a shockwave of water over his head. He retaliated instantly, this time pushing his palms through the waver and sending a tidal wave over her head.

‘Oh, you want to play it that way, Malfoy?’ She mirrored his actions, sending a jet of water at him, before turning and attempting to swim away.

She wasn’t very fast. She could swim, but her experience was limited to summer holiday sessions at a hotel resort pool with her father, or a crash-course lesson at the local secondary school. But at Hogwarts, with its lack of swimming facilities, she hadn’t had much chance to practice. Draco, however, seemed far more at ease in the water. Something she could already tell.

As the movements slowed, everything inside her tensed. Panic surged in her chest, making it hard to breathe as the cold water gripped her. Her arms felt heavy, her legs sluggish. She glanced over her shoulder, and her heart skipped a beat. Draco was there, gaining on her quickly. Her panic deepened, and she squealed, pushing herself to swim harder, her strokes desperate, but it was too late.

He reached her in an instant, his strong arms circling around her waist. Without hesitation, he dunked her under the water, pulling her down with him.

The world blurred as her lungs screamed for air. She gasped, her mind spinning. The cold water made everything feel distorted, and the sensation of being submerged only deepened her fear. Her heart pounded in her chest as she flailed, trying to free herself, but Draco held her fast.

She couldn’t tell if it was the panic or the cold that made her feel like she was drowning. Her vision darkened, and she fought to keep her composure. But it was too much. Her breath hitched, and she felt herself start to lose control, the weight of the water pulling her deeper into the abyss of her mind.

Suddenly, she was yanked upward. Draco’s grip tightened, and with one powerful motion, he hauled her to the surface.

The air was a shock, cold against her trembling skin as she gasped, sucking in breath after breath. Her chest heaved in a frantic rhythm, her panic only growing as she clung to him, unable to steady herself. She hadn’t realized how much she was shaking until she felt his steady presence, his hands holding her firmly, guiding her toward the shore.

As they reached the shore, she felt her body lifted from the water effortlessly, moving across the pebbles and stones and towards the tree trunk where their clothes and belongings had been left. Draco set her down gently, grabbing a towel and wrapping it tightly around her shoulders. She couldn’t stop shaking. Her body continued to rattle right down to her bones.

‘Hermione? Hey, H, look at me.’

She tried to move her vision to him, to look into those silver eyes which had slowly become a comfort to her, but she couldn’t seem to do anything apart from shake. Everything was tense, cold.

‘H?’ he spoke again, this time his voice softer, higher pitched.

Finally, she blinked, glancing down at him. He was holding her hands, running his thumb over the back of her knuckles. His lips twitched, yet it didn’t move to his eyes.

‘There you are.’

She blinked again. What the hell had just happened?

Climbing from his position in front of her, Draco sat beside her, wrapping an arm across her shoulders and pulling her in close. He rubbed a hand up and down her arm as she gazed out at the lake.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked quietly, and she wasn’t exactly sure how to respond.

Was she okay? She didn’t know. She hadn’t ever freaked out like that before. She wanted to say she was fine, that this was nothing, just a minor inconvenience. But this whole relationship with Draco was built on truth, and the way he was holding her at that moment, she felt she could trust him with anything.

‘I freaked out.’ She had expected him to come back with some smart ass retort, but instead he moved her up and onto his lap, cradling her into his body.

He stroked a hand through her hair, before pushing a stray strand back behind her ear. ‘Do you know why?’

She shook her head, burying herself into him deeper–taking comfort from his warmth and smell. ‘Sorry,’ she whispered, sad that she’d made him leave the others. She glanced out into the lake again. The girls were on the guys shoulders, each of them wrestling to topple the other off. She wasn’t entirely sure, but she thought the game was called Horse, or something like that.

Draco chuckled, the rumble vibrating through her body and warming her deep into her core. ‘I’m just fine right here…with you.’

She stared up at him. His eyes lowered to glance at her and everything inside her melted. That look. That look. The more time she was spending with him, the more she could see why girls fawned over him at school. Draco was an enigma wrapped up in a very handsome package. And if she was being honest, she wanted to unwrap it. To find out what was hidden in the deep dark depths of Draco Malfoy. Everyday she was finding out more and more about him, and everyday she found herself pulled closer.

Like a magnet, she found herself moving towards him. Tilting her chin up as her eyes lowered to a soft close. She felt his breath on her lips. The warmth lingering as he moved closer, and closer. They were so close, now, and this time the kiss wasn’t for show, it wasn’t for the act. They were moving because they wanted to, unexplainable lust and desire.

They were close, so close. What was taking him so long?

‘Hey, Marinette, come with us!’

Hermione’s eyes flew open. Draco had already moved away and was smiling at something over her head, but it didn’t quite make it all the way to his eyes. She turned her head to see what he was staring at. The group were strolling up the beach, holding each other up and laughing, everyone that was except Cerise.

He stood up, cradling her in his arms before gently lowering her to the ground. ‘Go with your girls. I’ll see you later.’ He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her lips and gave her a gentle nudge in the direction of the others. They had gathered their towels and were now heading toward a small dock just a few feet over the lake, hovering over the shallow water. It offered her a small sense of ease, but the truth was? She longed to be back in Draco’s arms, feeling safe and protected.

The girls settled down, chatting about everything and nothing, and she couldn’t help but feel the pull of nostalgia already. When she returned home, things wouldn’t be the same. There wouldn’t be a group like this—one where they could casually talk about makeup and chick lit, where everything was simple and carefree. At home, the dynamics were more complicated. Brothers and sisters. Friends and enemies. It just wasn’t the same.

‘Damn, we’re so lucky ladies. Best eye candy in Paris is right there on the beach.’ Alix lay back on her elbows, her head fixed on the boys.

Hermione glanced over taking in the guys standing near their belongings. Ivan and Max were sat reading something on the log, both stopping every now and then to laugh, Luka had his guitar out playing soft melodies which floated through the wind, then there was Félix, Adrien and Nino, skimming stones across the pond, each one smiling so brightly she found herself doing it too.

They were a sight! Each one, utterly perfect in their own way. They were different in so many wonderful ways, and that’s why it worked. That’s why they were a well connected group. Yins and yangs—each and everyone of them. All the girls too. Well, almost all the girls

She caught Draco’s eye, and a slow, knowing smile transformed his face from unreadable to the most captivating story she’d ever encountered. He winked, mischief dancing in his gaze as the sunlight glinted off the bright strands of his platinum blond hair.

He was hers to have. Hers to take. And as he moved toward her, that cheeky smile prominent on his face, she knew she’d be a fool not to try.

‘Hey, ladies.’ He hopped onto the deck with effortless grace, his eyes locked onto hers, the silver flecks swirling like a secret only she could decipher. ‘May I steal my girl away for a moment?’

‘Sure, take her,’ Alya said, Hermione stared at her curiously. ‘What? You’ve been staring at him for the past thirty minutes, you’re no use to us here.’

The girls laughed, the sound causing her heart to bloom and fill. Yes, she was definitely going to miss this.

‘What do you say?’ He held his hand out towards her, his eyes still locked with hers. Did he never look away either?

‘Always,’ she whispered, slotting her hand into his and allowing him to pull her to her feet. His hand was warm, the opposite to how he’d felt coming out of the water earlier that day. It always felt good to hold his hand. It swarmed hers and made her feel like a delicate doll. She could have laughed at the way her thoughts had changed.

‘Make sure you’re back for dinner, guys! I have some fun games for tonight and you’re not going to want to miss it.’ Alix smirked at them, and Hermione felt her heart flip. If Alix was planning tonight's entertainment and she knew, there were so many crazy possibilities for how tonight was actually going to go.

‘Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Alix,’ Draco said, tugging Hermione’s hand and pulling her to his side. With quiet certainty, he led her off the dock and toward the trees. They walked in companionable silence, the world around them hushed except for the occasional rustle of squirrels and the distant call of birds. It was peaceful—nothing like the heavy, foreboding air of the Forbidden Forest.

Their fingers remained intertwined, her thoughts running ahead of her, trying to predict what he might say and how she would respond. She stole a glance at him, watching as the shifting shadows draped over his face, sharpening his features into something cold, something untouchable. This was the image he had carefully constructed—the Draco Malfoy the world expected, the one who lived in the darkness because that’s where his father had placed him.

But that wasn’t him. Not really. The shadows weren’t his refuge; they were his disguise. A false identity he had worn to appease his father, to fit the mold that had been carved for him before he’d even had a say. But here, in the quiet light filtering through the trees, she could see him for what he was—not the boy shaped by darkness, but the one trying to step out of it.

‘You know, it’s rude to stare at people, Granger.’

He turned his head and she gasped.

His silver eyes—always sharp, always watching—caught the light just right, turning them into something almost otherworldly. They gleamed like unicorn blood, luminous and haunting, as if holding both a curse and a promise.

For so long, she had thought of his eyes as piercing, always searching for weakness, always calculating, always ready to strike. But now, in the soft glow of the fading light, she saw something else entirely. Vulnerability. Hesitation. A quiet kind of longing, as though he were standing on the edge of something unknown, uncertain whether to step forward or retreat.

The shadows had always been his armor, the thing that concealed whatever lay beneath. But his eyes? His eyes had never fully belonged to the darkness. They had always been something untamed, something he couldn’t entirely control. And right now, they were looking at her—not with challenge, not with indifference, but with something softer, something real.

It made her chest tighten, her breath hitch. Because if Draco Malfoy could look at her like that then maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t the only one standing on the edge of something new.

They stood for a moment, neither daring to move. Being here with him felt dangerous in the most delectable of ways. She felt alive. Her heart was pounding rapidly trying to break out and run to him, to ask him to keep it, because slowly but surely it belonged to him.

A snapping of twigs sounded behind her and Draco pulled his gaze away looking out to the distance, worry etched into his face.

‘Come on.’ He continued walking, leading her up a path before leading them off onto a steep dirt track. Eventually, the hill leveled out and Hermione placed a hand over her mouth. They stood on the top of a cliff, the world around them still and untouched. She felt like they were the only people in the world up here. Slowly, she turned around, taking everything in. It was all so beautiful.

‘Don’t worry, I’m not here to push you off a cliff.’

She turned to glare at Draco, but couldn’t control the smile as he stood there studying her like he did his Hogwarts: A History book.

‘Are you okay? You look a little constipated again.’

‘You’re far too worried about my bowel movements, H.’

They rested against a large, weathered rock, the vast landscape stretching out before them. The wind tousled the curls around her face as she traced patterns against the stone, her gaze drifting to the dense trees below. The sky had begun to shift, tinged with the soft hues of twilight.

‘I think Paris is back that way,’ Draco said, smirking as he lazily pointed out into the unknown.

She glanced at him, then at the trees surrounding them, before shaking her head. ‘No, it’s not,’ she said simply.

He turned to her, arching a brow. ‘And how do you know that?’

She let out a soft sigh, her eyes scanning the landscape like it was a puzzle she’d already solved. ‘Because the trees tell me,’ she said matter-of-factly. ‘Look at the way the branches lean, shaped by years of prevailing winds. And the moss growing thickest on one side of the trunks? That tells us where North is. Paris would be…’ She turned slightly, pointing in the opposite direction he had. ‘That way.’

Draco stared at her, the corners of his lips twitching before he let out a low chuckle. His eyes softened as he shook his head. ‘Of course you’d know that,’ he murmured, his voice laced with amusement.

She looked at him, about to offer some smug remark, but the way he was smiling at her, genuine, warm, like she was something endlessly fascinating, made her pause. It sent that all too familiar flutter through her chest.

Instead, she rolled her eyes and nudged him lightly with her shoulder. ‘You’d be lost without me, Malfoy.’

He smirked, tilting his head. ‘You say that like it’s a bad thing.’

The wind continued to twirl around them, the trees blowing in the wind. ‘Are you okay after earlier? I’m sorry for doing that. I didn’t know you were afraid of water.’

‘I didn’t either.’ She laughed, the sound more one of disbelief than humour. ‘I don’t know.’ She shrugged. ‘It must be a past trauma.’

Draco shrugged, rolling a stone around with the sole of his foot. ‘Well, Krum did have you held hostage underwater for a while during fourth year.’

She turned to look at him. ‘Pay that much attention to my whereabouts do you?’

He smiled. ‘I prayed you wouldn’t be found.’

The sound that came out her mouth was a tangled mess. ‘What?!’

‘If Krum didn’t save you, I was going to have my hero moment and jump right in.’

‘You liar,’ she giggled, pushing her shoulder into his.

‘Certainly not! Fourth year was my peak crush year, and seeing you all dressed up at the Yule Ball.’ He shook his head and held his hands up. ‘Teenage awakening! That’s all I’m saying!’

Hermione gasped, covering her hands over her mouth, catching the chuckle leaving her lips. ‘Draco!’

‘What? Pink is most certainly your colour. Though, I am growing a fondness for red.’

Silence wrapped around them like a warm, fluffy blanket. It wasn’t awkward or itchy, it was nice. Comfortable.

‘I wonder how Adrien and Marinette are getting on?’ she said, wrapping her arms around herself. She wondered if they felt as good as she did having a break from all those pressures and responsibilities.

Plus, the interaction for the two would definitely make it easier for the transition back when she had this new found friendship—relationship—with Draco. Her heart went out to Ron, her shoulders slumping at Every thing she’d already put him through and what was yet to come.

‘They’re superheroes,’ Draco said. ‘I’m sure they’re dealing with it just fine. They’re one hell of a team.’

‘Yeah,’ she said, though she wasn’t entirely sure.

‘So…’ Draco dragged the word out, his foot still playing mindlessly with the rock. ‘When we go back, what’s going to happen with…’ He coughed, obviously uncomfortable about what he was trying to say.

‘With?’ Hermione asked, her eyebrows raising in anticipation of what he was going to say.

He turned his attention to her. ‘With…Ron?’

She shook her head. ‘That’s not my future anymore.’

‘Oh, ok. So, what is your future? Or who?’

A smirk crossed her lips out into the distance. She knew what she wanted now more than ever, she just hoped he wanted it too. ‘Someone caring, heroic, handsome. Someone like Adrien.’

Hermione heard the sharp intake of breath beside her and prayed he’d caught onto the hidden meaning of the conversation.

Someone like…you.

Chapter Text

Adrien

Adrien paced the Room of Requirement, his nerves buzzing with an unfamiliar intensity. Marinette had been in the shower for almost thirty minutes, longer than he'd ever known her to take. She was usually quick in and out, and despite being covered in lake water, he couldn’t imagine her needing much more time.

Goodness, he wished Plagg were here. A voice of reason would be a relief right about now. It was embarrassing, but he wasn’t used to making decisions on his own. Should he go in? Or stay out here? After all, if she was still in the shower and naked, it wouldn’t exactly be ideal for her ex-boyfriend—if that was even what he was—to walk in on her. They hadn’t really talked about it, not since everything had fallen apart. In all the anger, he’d never thought about if they were actually over.

He stopped in front of the roaring fireplace, letting the warmth dry the dampness still clinging to his uniform. The flames crackled in a way that only made his uncertainty grow. He wished someone would just come and tell him what to do next. Should he act like a friend? A boyfriend? Her partner? Or even a stranger? There were too many possibilities, too many paths this moment could take.

In a need to do something, Adrien wandered around the room, his fingers lightly brushing against the trinkets and ornaments on display. Random artifacts, some of which at first glance appeared to be medieval torture devices, sat nonchalantly above the fireplace. But upon closer inspection, they were nothing more than harmless souvenirs from distant lands—useless and forgettable.

A mirror hung above the mantle, its surface reflecting a thin sliver of light from the bathroom. Adrien found himself staring at the tiny gap, unable to see anything inside the cubicle, yet his mind couldn’t help but imagine what Marinette might be doing in there. Over the course of their time together, things had become comfortably routine. He’d brush his teeth, shave, and chat as Marinette used his shower—laughing and joking as they prepared for the day. And then there were the moments they’d shared the shower together.

His throat tightened, his stomach ached, as the memories surged forward. He tried to push them away, to clear his mind, but they clung to him like stubborn shadows. He needed to think straight, and these thoughts weren’t helping.

Marinette had hurt him.

She’d kept things from him, things he had the right to know, and every time he tried to address the anger, her pale, lifeless body filled his mind. She had almost died tonight. He had almost lost her–forever. Despite the hurt, despite the anger, he never wanted to lose her like that. Never seeing her again was an entirely different kind of loss, one he wasn’t sure he could bear.

Adrien’s eyes were drawn to the object in the corner of the room, nestled beside a towering bookcase filled with dusty tomes. The Pensieve sat there, almost out of place amidst the clutter, its silvery mist gently swirling in the dim light. It looked deceptively simple at first glance—just a shallow, stone basin with ornate carvings running along its edges. The stone itself was an uneven gray, aged with time, but polished in certain places as if it had been touched over and over again. The carvings, intricate and detailed, resembled vines curling around the basin, their patterns delicate but purposeful. Each curve and twist seemed to tell a story of its own—of magical history, of forgotten secrets.

He moved closer, his feet making almost no sound against the cool floor. He stood for a moment, staring at the swirling substance inside the Pensieve. The mist seemed alive, shifting and rippling as if it were breathing. It wasn’t like any liquid he’d ever seen, its surface constantly moving, though it held an eerie stillness when viewed from a distance. The pale, silver light that radiated from the substance made the room feel a little colder, a little more distant, as if the Pensieve was a gateway to something far beyond the here and now.

He hesitated for a moment before gently running his fingers along the top edge of the basin. The stone felt cool to the touch, its surface smooth in places, rough in others. As his fingers grazed the intricate designs, he felt a faint hum beneath his skin—an unmistakable pulse of magic that sent a shiver through him. He couldn’t explain it, but there was something strangely compelling about it, as though the Pensieve was calling to him, urging him to peer into the depths of its mysteries.

Leaning over slightly, his breath catching in his throat as he looked into the mist. The silver substance was mesmerising, swirling and twisting in patterns that made it seem as though the memories inside were shifting, waiting to be accessed. The thought of what might lie within—whose memories, whose experiences—flashed through his mind. What would it be like to dive into someone else’s past? To witness their most private moments, to relive their pain or joy as if it were his own?

He glanced over at the bookcase next to him, the weight of old books lining its shelves offering an odd comfort, but the Pensieve held his attention, its quiet pull becoming stronger. His heart beat a little faster, and for a moment, he wondered what it would be like to touch the swirling mist and lose himself in the memories trapped inside.

Memories of a past he wanted to know.

This was it. This was how he was going to decide where to go next. He could use the Pensive to find out what he was missing, the memories plaguing Marinette and to find out what had happened with his mother, father and Nathalie. His answer was right here, and he would be an idiot not to use it.

He moved to the door of the bathroom, gently rapping on it with his fingers. ‘Marinette?’

Running water pat against the marble floor rhythmically, no obstructions in the way. That was not how it should sound if someone was underneath the shower head. He knocked the door again, this time a little louder. ‘Marinette?’

The water continued to fall in perfect patterns. He wondered if she’d escaped somehow? Left the room and headed back to her dorms.

No, she wouldn’t have.

A strange noise mixed in with the running water.

‘Marinette?’

Adrien pushed the door open, stepping into the bathroom. The air was thick with steam, curling around the flickering sconces, casting ghostly shadows against the emerald marble walls. The scent of enchanted soaps and warm water filled the space, but the heat did nothing to stop the chill that crawled up his spine when he saw her.

The shower was still running, droplets splattering against the floor, pooling beneath her. But she wasn’t standing beneath it.

She was curled up in the corner, pressed against the wall like she was trying to disappear.

Her uniform clung to her, the red-and-gold tie loosened, her white shirt soaked through, turning translucent under the relentless stream of water. Her bra straps cut stark lines against her pale skin, the fabric molding to her form in a way that should’ve made his cheeks burn, but all he could focus on was the way she was folded into herself.

Her knees were drawn tight to her chest, her bare feet tucked beneath her, her head buried so deeply against her arms that her wet hair hung like a curtain, shielding her from the outside world. From him.

A small sound escaped her. A sniffle, a broken whimper barely audible over the rushing water.

His chest tightened.

She was shaking. Trembling so hard that he didn’t know if it was the cold or the weight of everything pressing down on her. Probably both.

And he just… stood there. Watching.

His hands clenched, nails biting into his palms, his mind warring with itself. He wasn’t sure what to do, what he could do. What she would even let him do.

But he knew what he wanted to do.

Slowly, he shrugged out of his sweater, the damp fabric slipping off his arms before he let it fall to the floor with a quiet thud beside hers.

The water hit him like a shockwave, the heat biting into his skin, a sharp contrast to the lingering chill of the Black Lake. His clothes grew heavy, the fabric sticking to him instantly, but he barely noticed.

All he could see was her.

Marinette’s body convulsed with each sob, her breaths coming in short, fractured gasps, as if she couldn’t get enough air. Small, strangled whimpers slipped from her lips, raw with pain and panic. She was drowning all over again—but this time, there was no lake, no merpeople. Just the weight of everything crushing her, dragging her under.

Adrien’s chest tightened, the pressure building, unbearable.

He should say something. Do something. But his mind was blank, his voice locked in his throat.

How was he supposed to comfort her when he couldn’t even make sense of his own emotions? When he still felt like he was being ripped apart from the inside?

But seeing her like this—

It killed him.

This wasn’t the Marinette he knew. Not the fierce, brave girl who stood tall in the face of danger, who fought until she had nothing left to give.

She wasn’t weak.

She wasn’t manipulative.

She wasn’t a liar.

She was just Marinette. And right now, she was breaking.

His hand lifted before he could stop himself, fingers reaching for her—only to hesitate.

He clenched his fist.

He didn’t know if she’d want his touch. If he even had the right to give it. He was part of the problems.

But the thought of leaving her like this, alone in this pain—

It was unbearable.

‘You should have just left me.’

Her voice was barely there, swallowed by the relentless downpour of the shower. A whisper, fragile and weightless, yet it crashed into him like a tidal wave.

‘You shouldn’t have bothered.’

She still wouldn’t look at him. Her head remained buried between her knees, her arms wrapped around them so tightly it was as if she was holding herself together by sheer force alone—like if she let go, she might shatter into pieces too small to put back together.

Adrien swallowed, his throat tight, raw. Slowly, he pulled his own knees up to his chest, mirroring her, his arms locking around them just as desperately.

This was breaking him. Shattering him in ways he hadn’t thought possible.

Because he knew Marinette. He had fought beside her, laughed with her, loved her. She didn’t give up. She fought, even when the odds were impossible. Even when she was drowning—whether in water or in lies—she always found a way to swim.

But now… now she was just sitting there.

Defeated.

And the sight of her like this, drenched and trembling, looking so unbearably small in the corner of the shower—

It was unbearable. It hollowed him out from the inside, left him aching in a way he didn’t know how to name.

His fingers dug into his arms, his grip tightening.

Adrien’s breath came hard and fast, his anger surging and twisting inside him like a storm he couldn’t quiet. But beneath it, beneath the betrayal, the hurt, the unrelenting ache—there was something else.

Something worse.

Fear.

Because this wasn’t Marinette.

Not the girl who fought until her voice was hoarse, until her hands bled, until she had nothing left but still kept going. Not the girl who stood unwavering beside him, who fought for those who couldn’t.

The girl in front of him now, soaked and trembling, hollow and lifeless, was someone he didn’t recognise.

And the thought of losing her—whether to the lake, to the merpeople, or to the unbearable weight of everything she carried—shook him to his core.

He moved into his knees, sitting in front of her, his hands curling into fists at his sides, his body tense and rigid. He wanted to be angry. Wanted to cling to the betrayal, to the hurt, because at least that was something real, something solid that he could hold onto.

But seeing her like this…

He just couldn’t.

The fight drained from him, leaving nothing but exhaustion in its place.

A heavy breath left his lips as he shifted forward, his anger melting into something softer, something more uncertain.

Gently, he reached out, his fingers ghosting over the curve of her shoulder before resting there, hesitant but firm.

‘You don’t get to say that,’ he whispered, his voice no longer sharp, but pleading. ‘You don’t get to act like you don’t matter. Like I could’ve just…just let you go.’

Her shoulders shook, but she didn’t pull away.

Slowly, carefully, he moved closer, his other hand coming up to brush the wet hair from her face. She flinched, just slightly, but didn’t stop him.

His heart clenched.

She looked so tired. So completely gone.

And he didn’t know how to bring her back.

So, without thinking, without hesitation, he cupped her face between his hands and pressed his forehead against hers.

The water pounded against them, soaking through his clothes, his hair dripping in his eyes, but none of it mattered.

All that mattered was her.

‘Marinette,’ he whispered, his voice breaking over her name. ‘I’m still so—so angry. But I need you here. I can’t—’ He swallowed hard, squeezing his eyes shut. ‘I can’t lose you.’

A sharp inhale left her lips, her breath shaky, uneven.

Then, finally, finally, her hands lifted, hesitantly gripping onto his wrists as if he were the only thing keeping her tethered to the world.

And maybe, at this moment, he was.

His thumb brushed over her cheek, tracing over the wet skin. He could feel the way her breath trembled, how her lips parted just slightly, how her fingers clenched against him like she wasn’t sure if she should pull him closer or push him away.

And then—

She moved.

Just the smallest tilt of her head, the softest shift toward him.

His heart stilled, time stretching impossibly thin between them.

And then, with a shaky exhale, he closed the distance and kissed her.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t desperate or punishing.

It was slow. Careful. A breath, a prayer, a promise.

His lips pressed against hers, gentle but unwavering, like an anchor in the storm of everything between them.

Because for all the anger, all the hurt, all the things left unsaid—

She was still Marinette.

And he wasn’t ready to let her go.

‘You don’t want me anymore,’ she whispered, her lips barely ghosting over his as she spoke.

Her voice was so quiet, so fragile, like she was already bracing for the pain of his answer. Like she had already accepted it.

Adrien’s heart clenched.

He shook his head immediately, words failing him, because how she was wrong. So wrong.

He wanted her. He ached for her.

He just didn’t know how.

How to reconcile the love he still felt with the betrayal that still lingered. How to hold onto her when everything between them felt like it was unraveling at the seams.

Instead of answering, he took a shaky breath and slowly moved back, standing on unsteady legs. His chest felt too tight, his throat thick with emotions he didn’t know how to name.

But when he looked down at her—drenched and trembling, still so heartbreakingly small against the tile—there was only one thing he knew for certain.

He couldn’t leave her like this.

So, just as he had so many times before, he reached out.

Offered her his hand.

Marinette stared at it for a moment, hesitation flickering in her red-rimmed eyes.

Then, tentatively, she placed her own in his. Her fingers were ice cold, despite the hot water cascading around them, and it sent a shiver up his spine. He squeezed her hand just slightly, grounding her. Grounding himself.

Because even if everything else between them felt uncertain—

This moment, this—

Was real.

Slowly, his hands slid to her tie, his fingers making quick work of the knot before pulling it from around her collar and dropping it onto the ground. He caught her eyes, wide and wondering, almost as though she couldn’t believe what was happening.

‘Is this okay?’ he asked, dropping the tie and moving his hands to her shirt. She nodded in agreement and he began to work. Carefully, his fingers unhooked her buttons watching he didn’t overstep his boundaries when she was in such a vulnerable position.

Settling his hands on her waist, he pulled her in closer to him, kissing her neck with featherlite brushes, moving up and over her ears, exactly where her Miraculous would usually sit. Her ears seemed so bare without them.

He felt the pressure of her hands as they held onto his arms. Tight and grounding. Lifting his head, Adrien glanced at her, checking he hadn’t overstepped his boundaries. And once again, she was looking at him like he was the brightest star in the sky.

‘Adrien?’ His name had never held so much meaning.

They remained staring at each other, disbelief coursing through him as they stood here together. ‘Don’t over think,’ he said, running a hand up her neck and caressing her cheek with his thumb. Cupping her head, he moved her towards him again, kissing her as though his life depended on it. And now, he was almost certain it did.

He walked Marinette back, the pressure from the tiles stopping them from moving any more, their lips never parting. This kiss wasn’t like the kisses they’d shared before. Not the sweet, fleeting ones stolen in secret corners, filled with laughter and innocence. Not the hesitant, unsure ones exchanged under the effects of an akuma needing love to break a spell.

No.

This was raw.

This was desperation, pain, relief. Every shattered piece of them colliding all at once.

Her lips were cold, trembling against his, but there was fire beneath it. A heat that started deep and spread like wildfire, burning through everything they thought they knew about each other.

This was the first kiss they had shared with nothing between them. No secrets. No masks. No lies.

Just them.

The hearts behind the masks.

Adrien felt it in his bones, the way the universe around them shifted, like something fundamental had changed the moment their lips met. Something had opened. Something new and something real.

A new beginning that wasn’t built on deception or half-truths, but on knowing. On seeing each other fully, mistakes and all. The flaws, the scars, and the mistakes. He wanted to hold on. He was choosing to still hold on. To be with her the way he was destined to be, not by a Miraculous or a trick of fate, but because they fit. They felt right. She was his, and he was hers.

He deepened the kiss, his hand finding her legs and hoisting her high, her legs tightly wrapped around his waist. He tightened his hold with one hand and unbuttoned his own shirt with the other, skin-on-skin contact to warm her. To anchor her.

Because despite everything: the betrayal, the heartbreak, the storm raging between them–he wanted this.

He wanted her.

Not the girl he had imagined, not the hero behind the mask, but Marinette. Fully. Completely. Flaws and all.

And as she kissed him back, her hands pushing the shirt from his body, pressing herself impossibly closer, he knew that she wanted him too.

Chapter Text

Hermione

The warm water felt delightful on her cool body. The droplets running down her back and cleaning off the dust and grime from her trek up the hills with Draco. The view had been exquisite, and the company wasn’t bad either. She closed her eyes, tilting her head back and allowing her thoughts to mix in with the smell of her shampoo.

This was the first time Hermione had a moment to breathe, to think without the weight of panic pressing down on her chest, without fear clouding every rational thought.

And those thoughts…

Draco Malfoy.

The feelings had crept up on her, slow at first, a quiet whisper in the back of her mind. But before she knew it, they had consumed her, wrapping around her like ivy, leaving her helpless against their pull.

When had this happened?

When had she stopped seeing him as the insufferable, arrogant boy she’d sworn to hate? When had he become someone who made her heart stutter and her skin burn with the simplest touch?

Every time she looked at him, she felt her face heat. And when she was with him, she couldn’t stop touching him—a brush of fingers when they walked too close, the slight bump of his shoulder when he checked in on her, the way he so casually tucked her hair behind her ear like it was the most natural thing in the world.

She wanted him.

And, God, wasn’t life so much easier when she hated him?

Lost in thought, she reached for her body wash, only for her hand to collide with his.

The scent of him—familiar now, ingrained in her senses—wrapped around her, sending a shiver down her spine. It was warm and rich, something uniquely him, something that had settled in the very fibers of her being over the course of their time together.

Her fingertips ghosted over the bottle, lingering just a second too long.

Would it be ridiculous to take it with her? To sneak it home, to tuck it away where no one would find it, to hold onto it like some foolish reminder of this—whatever this had become?

As if it could somehow preserve the whirlwind of emotions, the stolen glances, the moments that had slipped through her fingers like sand.

As if it could keep him close, even when he wasn’t there.

She was in big trouble in every way possible, and every moment with him was just another moment she learned something new, something intriguing and genuine. Would it be a bad thing to let him know how she felt? Everything inside her screamed no, that this thing she was feeling was what he was feeling too. He was the key to everything that she wanted and everything she didn’t know she needed.

Tonight was it.

Tonight, she would finally tell him. She would lay everything bare, no more hesitation, no more second-guessing.

What happened after…well, that was up to him.

He had her heart, whether he knew it or not. Whether he wanted it or not.

Make it or break it, it was in his hands now and there was no turning back.

Locating her body wash, she lathered it in her hands and cleaned over her body, her mind tricking her into believing they were Draco’s. His touch sent her into orbit, soft, gentle caresses unlike anything she’d ever felt before. And his kisses…they were something else.

He’d kissed her fiercely, all consuming and greedily. Taking her breath away with the overwhelming desire, then he’d kissed her softly, gently, as though she was the most precious thing in the world to him. It wasn’t like that with Ron.

Ron.

Groaning, she opened her eyes and started to wash off the soap suds, before grabbing her conditioner. There would be so much to say and do when they arrived back at Hogwarts. She would have to tell her best friends that she was in love with their number one enemy.

In love with?

Overwhelmed by the thought, the conditioner bottle slipped from her hands and crashed onto the floor of the shower. In love…

No! No! She couldn’t be! She couldn’t be in love with Draco Malfoy. This was just an infatuation she wanted to explore, a way to find herself and burn off some steam. She didn’t love him!

She chuckled. The smell of the body wash was causing her to have crazy thoughts. There must be something in it that sent people crazy. Shaking her head Hermione finished her routine, before switching off the shower, grabbing her towel and climbing out.

The mirror was completely misted over, not a single fragment of the mirror available. With the hand towel, she cleared the steam from the mirror and gave herself a glance over. She’d caught the sun a little from their trek up the hill that afternoon giving her skin a slight shine and her cheeks a healthy glow. She’d never felt so well rested in her life, and the most crazy thing? She hadn’t picked up a book in a week!

‘What’s he doing to you, Hermione?’ she whispered to her reflection, slightly hopeful that it would give her an answer back. Alas, it remained silent.

Maybe she could class this as Stockholm Syndrome, being struck here in a relationship with him, maybe it was just a convenience of the forced proximity. But, then again, the time with him during the tutoring sessions had become a little of a respite for her. She’d enjoyed the tit for tat with Draco, and the freedom she felt to be herself. It didn’t bother him if she was having a bad day, or if she didn’t want to talk, and he humoured her on the days that she did. He was just there accepting whatever, and she couldn’t remember when that’d last happened.

So much of her time and been living under Harry’s shadow, and she didn’t mean that negatively. She loved Harry, he was one of her best friends and she would one hundred percent support him through everything again in a heartbeat, but that stopped her from growing into herself. She grew into a witch, a brain, a name. Fame she never wanted or needed.

She’d gained so much from her time at Hogwarts, but she’d lost so much too. Not only had she lost her parents and family, she’d lost the friends she’d made at Primary School, she’d lost the extracurricular activities she’d attended after school and she’d lost the dreams of being a doctor. Along the journey, she’d lost herself.

This was her time now. In a couple of months they’d leave Hogwarts and be unleashed into the Wizarding World. She wasn’t ready. She never thought she could be, not when she was still trying to figure out who she was.

Being here and acting out Marinette’s life had been eye opening. She had close friends, a secret identity and a wild boyfriend who she thought was a marshmallow. Hermione could only imagine what Marinette would feel like if she found out flirty Chat Noir was her sugar plum boyfriend. She smiled, knowing full well the two guys being one would be the greatest thing to ever happen to her.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed away from the vanity, pinkened cheeks and all, and headed towards the bedroom. Thoughts clouded with possible outfits as she grabbed her towel and rubbed it against the end of her hair, only to walk straight into a brick wall.

Yelping, she stumbled back, but strong hands caught her arms, steadying her before she could fall. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down her spine–steady, grounding, but also dangerously distracting.

And then…something slipped. The knot of her towel came undone, the fabric sliding from her body before she could even react.

Panic surged through her, but before she could move, before she could do anything, she lurched forward, colliding straight into him.

Bare skin met bare skin.

A sharp inhale. A pause. A moment of suspended time.

Her palms flattened against something solid, firm muscle beneath her fingertips. And that’s when the realisation struck her, crashing over her.

She was naked. Chest to chest with Draco Malfoy. Her hands splayed over his pecs, the heat of him searing into her skin. Her breath hitched, her pulse hammering so loudly she was sure he could hear it.

‘Are you okay?’ he whispered, his voice impossibly soft.

Hermione was too afraid to breathe, let alone move. It was one thing standing there like this. It was another thing entirely to shift, to acknowledge just how little space was left between them.

‘Yep,’ she squeaked.

Her eyes slammed shut, her cheeks burning, going from a delicate pink to ravenous red.

Merlin’s beard!

Tentatively, hesitantly, she cracked one eye open and met his gaze. Dark. Intense. Unreadable. And far, far too close.

Tearing his eyes from her, he looked over her head and towards the bathroom. He was obviously going to use the shower, hence why his skin was again her skin.

‘Do you need any help?’ His voice somehow steady against the chaos.

‘Nope!’ she snapped, a pitch too high, moving so fast to grab her towel that she didn’t quite consider where she was reaching.

Which is how she came face to face with…

Oh. Oh!

Boxers. Tight boxers.

Boxers that left very little to the imagination.

A muffed, strangled yelp tore from her throat as she snatched the towel from the floor and wrapped it around herself with all the grace of a flailing Cornish Pixie. Her hands fumbled, the fabric tangling in her haste, because of course this was happening.

Desperate to escape, she pivoted on her heel and all but launched herself towards the small walk-in wardrobe at the side of the room, slamming the door shut behind her like it was the only thing standing between her and certain death by embarrassment.

Her heart raced. Her skin burned.

And worse?

Draco Malfoy was still out there.

Shirtless. Smug. And probably very amused.

She pressed her forehead against the door, groaning.

Was she actually losing her mind? Because, honestly, at this point, she wasn’t sure if everything in her head, the tension, the looks, the way the air crackled when he was near–was real or just some utterly ridiculous, delusional fantasy her brain had cooked up to torture her.

Hopefully, after tonight, she’ll know for sure. A quick look at the Ysé bag, and a plan devised in her mind. After all, with great underwear came great responsibility…or something like that.

Chapter Text

Draco

‘Never have I ever been akumatised.’

A chorus of groans bounced around the room as pretty much every person placed their glass to their lips. Draco surveyed the room. Himself and Hermione had decided the best way to tackle a question like this, and not point huge arrows at themselves, was to drink too. The whole gang downed their drinks. Everyone including Cerise. That didn’t sit right with him. She was supposedly new to Paris, new to France, yet here she was drinking with the rest of them.

He tried to catch Hermione’s eye. She was opposite him between the snake and Alya, and from the way she was studying Cerise, Draco was quite certain she was thinking the exact same thing. Her eyes had narrowed and her body was tense, almost like she was ready to stand up and call out Cerise for bullshit. He snorted, turning it quickly into a cough as people stared. He’d been on that side of Hermione, and it was definitely an unforgettable experience.

‘Your turn,’ Alix shouted out, her newly refilled glass sloshing around as she directed it in the direction of Nino.

Nino stood up and cleared his throat, milking the moment for all it was worth. Draco couldn’t help but grow more fond of the guy with every passing second.

‘Never have I ever been caught sneaking out of my house at night.’

Once again, the room filled with an orchestra of groans, followed by drinks being raised to lips. As Draco glanced around the room, something caught his attention. Everyone was wearing unique and intriguing pieces of jewellery. The realisation hit him like a ton of bricks—they were all part of the Miraculous Club. It made perfect sense. Since arriving here, Hermione—or Marinette—had shown just how central she was to this group. If Marinette was the leader, it only followed that everyone else was part of her band of Merry Men.

‘Adrien, you're up, Dude!’ Nino declared, plopping back down and giving Draco's shoulder a playful slap. Draco was more than happy to stand and take his turn. He scanned the room, his eyes meeting Hermione's with an unspoken challenge in them. She was expecting him to play her good… and of course, he would.

‘Never have I ever insulted someone just to make them angry.’ Smirking, Draco lifted his drink to his lips and took a casual sip as everyone around him gasped in disbelief.

‘No way have you insulted anyone!’ Kim exclaimed, standing up as though he’d just heard the most ridiculous thing. ‘You do know how to play this game, right? Nino, you told him the rules, right?’

Draco rolled his eyes. ‘Let’s just say when you have a slight crush, it comes out in different ways. You know how it is—treat them mean, and keep them keen.’ He dropped a sly wink in Hermione’s direction. He nearly burst out laughing at the deep shade of red that washed over her face. It even rivaled the Ladybug suit. Very nice.

‘Marinette?’ Rose asked, her voice soft, almost sad, as if this turn of events had taken her by surprise.

Hermione kept her eyes locked on Draco, shrugging nonchalantly. ‘Don’t worry, Rose. I can give as good as I get. You should ask him about the time I punched him in the face and broke his nose.’

A second round of gasps rippled through the room, followed by a burst of chatter. Well, if people weren’t curious about them before, they sure as hell were now. A tingle ran down Draco’s spine, urging him to glance to his left. There, standing still as a statue, was Cerise. Her gaze was intense—stern, yet strangely curious. She was studying him, searching for cracks, for some sign that he wasn’t telling the truth. She knew something. The longer he was around her, the more he had the feeling that she knew a hell of a lot more than she was letting on.

She was reminding him of himself, back in the Dark Lord times. There was something about her, something she didn’t want others to know or understand, but he was onto her. He had his defenses sky high and there was no way she could be breaking them down.

‘Come on,’ Draco laughed, ‘I can’t be the only one.’ Mumbling was joined by cups being lifted to mouths and people still sharing their disbelief at Adrien and Marinette. If only they knew. As Alix stood, she gave Draco a nod. She was obviously enjoying the way he was playing this.

‘Pipe down everyone, it’s my turn now.’ People settled back into their seats, Draco keeping his eyes on Hermione as they made his way back onto the ground. Being the gentlemen they were, the guys had given their seats up to the girls. Which, in Hermione’s case, was awkward for her, but a small slice of heaven for himself. She was wearing an outfit which was nothing but candy for the eye. Her cropped top showed over her toned waist and the skirt was short enough to make her legs seem endless. Not only was the outfit mouthwatering, but he’d seen what was underneath it.

The crash after her shower, when her naked body was pressed up against his, was all he could think about. He tried to keep his eyes over her head and looked behind her, but he was a guy…and not a very nice one at that, so yes…he did have a quick glance down, catching her ass as she bent to retrieve her towel.

Yes! He’d well and truly signed his entrance into hell!

But to be fair, he felt like he’d already been there. Having her bend down in front of him, naked, was teasing beyond anything he’d ever known. At that moment, Draco wanted to go fully caveman, lifting her up and taking her straight to bed. But he’d been a good boy instead, just looking and not touching.

‘Never have I ever lied to my best friend.’

Alix raised her glass toward Kim. ‘Bottom’s up!’ She downed her drink faster than a fifth-year student from Durmstrang, and it was quite the spectacle.

Kim shot to his feet again. ‘When?’ he demanded.

Alix shrugged and casually sank back into her seat. ‘That outfit you wore on your date last week? Fugly!’

Kim’s eyes widened. ‘You told me I looked like a young Chris Hemsworth!’

‘A young Chris Hemsworth if he’d fallen into a bargain bin at a local costume store,’ Alix snorted, causing the others to burst into laughter. A few even chimed in with their agreement, while Kim grew more tense, clearly not pleased with this turn of events.

‘I can’t be the only one,’ Alix said, glaring at each of them in turn.

Slowly, Draco raised his glass to his lips, taking a small sip, before catching Alix’s eye. Throwing his head back, he finished off his glass and placed it down.

‘What the hell man?’ Nino said, casting an eye in his direction.

Draco smiled wryly. ‘Sorry, man. There's somethings that I can’t tell you.’

Nino huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. ‘I tell you everything, dude! I didn’t realise this friendship was so one sided. I didn’t even know Marinette had broken your nose.’

Unconsciously, Draco began to spin the ring on his finger, the metal heating as it twisted and turned. He felt the sudden urge of electricity travel up his arm, a strange feeling of intense power, holding together and waiting to explode. Drawing his eyes down, he noticed a strange flicker tracing the lines within the ring. A small green dot fading in and out as it moved.

‘Let’s play something else.’ Cerise spoke for the first time since the Never Have I Ever game had started. Draco tore his gaze away from Hermione to focus on Cerise. She had dressed to make an impression tonight, and though Hermione’s outfit was revealing, it paled in comparison to Cerise’s. It was hard to ignore how little it left to the imagination—it felt overly provocative. On top of that, Cerise had been giving him too much attention, and Draco had found himself in more than a few awkward situations because of it.

When he’d first entered the room after showering and changing, Hermione had been with Alya, “finishing off” their conversation. Draco had made a beeline for the kitchen, hoping to grab something to dull the rush of energy from seeing Hermione fresh out the shower, and the feel of her body on his. But then Cerise had cornered him. She was practically all over him. There was definitely something off about it, something he couldn’t quite figure out. From what he gathered, Marinette and Cerise had never met—Luka’s introduction had made that clear. Yet, Cerise seemed to have some kind of issue with Marinette, and Draco couldn’t make sense of it.

‘What are you thinking?’ Luka asked. He’d been sitting on the ground, his back settled between his sister and Rose’s legs.

Cerise shrugged. Her gaze met him with an intense glare, her voice lowering as she spoke. ‘Oh, I don’t know? Spin the bottle!’

Alix let out a wild laugh before standing from her chair and heading towards the kitchen. ‘Spin the bottle? Are you trying to create a scene?’ The door closed behind her. Draco almost wanted to run after her and ask what she meant.

‘Spin the bottle?’ Félix scoffed. ‘What are we? Thirteen?’

‘Come on, Fé, it’s only a bit of fun.’ Kim moved from where he was positioned on the couch onto the ground beside Luka, the girls following his lead and moving positions too.

‘Yeah, come on everyone. We’re meant to be enjoying ourselves.’ Mylène shuffled off the armchair and onto the floor, Ivan, her boyfriend, following instantly.

Scanning the crowd now seated around an empty vodka bottle, Draco stopped as he caught Hermione’s attention. She seemed panicked, the look on her face mirroring the feeling in his heart. This just didn’t seem like the thing they should be doing. Firstly, a dare could cause them to do anything and blow their cover, or a truth which shouldn’t be revealed. Either way, this wasn’t going to end well.

Draco watched the bottle spin, his fingers curling into his knees as he tried to keep his expression neutral. Every muscle in his body was wound tight, his heartbeat a steady drum against his ribs.

This was bad.

Cerise was dangerous. Not in the traditional sense, but in the way a well-aimed hex could be. Sharp, cutting and always looking for an opening, and as she spun the bottle first, she held the power completely in her hands.

And right now?

She had her sights set on Marinette.

The second the bottle, oh so conveniently, landed on her, he knew Cerise wasn’t going to let up. He saw the way her lips curled, the satisfaction flickering behind her eyes.

Hermione sat stiffly, her face carefully composed, but he knew her well enough to recognise the tension in his shoulders. The way her fingers twitched ever so slightly where they rested against her knee. He wanted to crawl over to her, to take her in his arms and prove to her they were in this together.

‘Truth, or dare?’ Cerise asked, tilting her head, voice all honeyed malice. How was no one else seeing this?

He clenched his jaw. He didn’t like this. Not just because of their secrets, not just because the entire game was a stupid risk–but because it was Hermione. And Cerise was hunting.

A few others were watching with mild interest, while Felix, to his credit, looked unimpressed. Draco could tell he was waiting to see how this would play out before intervening again.

Hermione exhaled slowly, lifting her chin. ‘Dare,’ she said.

Draco cursed internally as Cerise’s grin widened. There was no way out of this.

His entire body was tense as Cerise dragged out the silence, milking the moment for all it was worth. He could see the calculation in her eyes, the way she was stretching the anticipation, enjoying the way Hermione’s fingers twitched against her knee, the way Draco’s jaw clenched tighter with every second.

…And right then it all made sense. She knew. Or at least, she had some kind of inclination that they weren’t who they said they were. Her stare was questioning, almost challenging as she finally spoke.

‘Alright,’ Cerise finally said, her lips curling like a cat who had just cornered a mouse. ‘I dare you…’

Draco braced himself.

‘…to sit on Adrien’s lap for the next three rounds.’

For a moment, Draco thought he had misheard. Then the room erupted. Laughter, teasing whistles, mock gasps—every possible reaction except the one pounding through his own skull.

Because of all the things Cerise could have said, she had chosen this.

Not enough to fully expose them, not enough to destroy their cover—just enough to push. To poke. To watch what happened when boundaries blurred and lines thinned.

Hermione was already red, her spine ramrod straight, her eyes darting anywhere but at him. He could see the internal war playing out behind her gaze. And then, like she had done moments ago, she lifted her chin. Determined. Defiant.

Draco exhaled sharply, trying to will away the heat creeping up his own neck as she shuffled toward him.

The teasing continued in the background—someone saying, well, if you’re gonna do it, at least make it comfortable—but Draco barely heard them.

Because then—

She sat down.

Right in his lap.

Draco went rigid.

Hermione was stiff as a board, clearly trying to find the least invasive way to do this, but there was no way to make this casual. Not when he could feel the warmth of her through her clothes, not when every shift sent a spark racing through him, not when…

He inhaled through his nose.

This was fine.

This was fine.

He forced himself to relax, resting his hands loosely on the floor beside him, trying not to think about the fact that she was right there.

Cerise was watching them like a hawk, but Draco refused to give her the reaction she wanted.

So he smirked. Sitting up straight, and wrapping his arms around her waist and resting a chin on her shoulder.

‘If you wanted to sit on my lap, ma chérie, you could’ve just asked.’

Hermione turned her head to face him. Her eyes wide, the black taking over the hazel he was growing fond of. He smiled, her own lips twitching. She wiggled a little, the slight movement sending his blood pressure through the roof. He tightened his grasp, holding her still and on the spot.

As the game continued, Draco lowered his voice, bringing his lips to her ear and speaking solely to Hermione. ‘Keep wiggling and I won’t be accountable for what happens next.’ He punctuated the statement with a gentle kiss to her neck. Her gasp, a satisfactory response to the action which he would gladly swallow again.

The three minutes suddenly turned into fifteen, Hermione remaining on his lap, both with complete ease. His face was buried in her hair, her own hands exploring his stomach, playing with the edge of his t-shirt. She’d turned a little, making herself more comfortable and fitting herself against him.

‘Adrien, come on man!’

‘Sorry,’ he said, pulling him out of the moment with Hermione and back to reality. Damn, he really didn’t want to be there.

Nino shook his head, nodding over towards Alix.

‘Wakey, wakey sunshine! I know you have your girl on your lap, but at least look like you’re still in the game.’ Alix wiggled her eyebrows as she spoke, the obvious knowing all too much for Draco to content with, causing his cheeks to prickle.

‘Sorry! But you know how it is,’ his words were laced with hidden meaning.

Alix laughed again. ‘Too right I do! But enough of that. Truth or dare.’

He felt Hermione go still in his arms, everything tense as she waited for his answer. Maybe she was thinking the same as him, about how dangerous truth could actually be. So, that only left him with one choice…

‘Dare.’

A smile stretched over Alix’s face in a way that made his spine tingle, and spine straighten.

‘I dare you to play seven minutes in heaven with Marinette.’

The gang exploded into catcalls and chatter. Chants of Do it! Do it! Sounded out in chorus, the girls giggling and fussing over Hermione. Kim slapped him on the shoulder and Nino pointed his fingers at him. Hermione, however, had turned heavy and unmoving in his lip.

She turned her head slowly to him, a smile on her lips which didn’t meet her eyes.

He screwed up his eyebrows, studying the fear on her face as one question bounced around his mind.

What, in the name of Merlin, was seven minutes in heaven?

Chapter Text

Marinette

Marinette stood still, staring at herself in the mirror. Her face was dull yet vibrant, her hair wet and tasseled. Her heart was broken, yet full. And she’d never felt more confused.

Adrien hated her. That was obvious. But after what had just happened in the shower, she’d never been more out of sync with what was happening. He’d kissed her like his life had depended on it, like he was confused about his own feelings but couldn’t let them go.

He should have left her with the Merpeople, everything had fallen apart so much, and all he’d done now is showing her what she couldn’t have anymore. What she didn’t deserve. Her heart was heavy. Adrien was everything for her. Everything she wanted, and everything she needed. Add in Chat Noir, and she never thought she’d survive.

With a deep breath, she wrapped the robe around her tighter, heading out of the bathroom and into the main area of the room.

The fire was bright, warm, and Adrien stood before it. His back was tense, his muscles rippling, as the dark green bottoms drooped low on his hips. Even his back was perfect.

‘I’m out if you need to go in.’ Her voice was low as she spoke, unsure how to approach him. He didn’t turn, he barely reacted to her voice as everything inside her that had started to reignite with hope—died.

‘I’m okay.’ His voice was void of feeling. No emotion present. ‘I’ve made you tea. There was a box of Enchanted Emerald Fusion, and it smelt like mint. So…’

His voice trailed off. The unspoken words of him knowing mint was her favourite left hanging in the air. He’d bought her mint tea many times over the past couple of years, it was always her go to when she reached that time of the month. He’d also been kind enough, as Chat Noir, to supply Ladybug with her fair share too.

She scanned the room, her eyes stopping on the small table near the sofa. There was a black and red cup, steam bellowing out of the top, and a delightful aroma pulling her in. Marinette walked towards it, picking it up and holding it between her two hands.

‘Thank you,’ she said gratefully, moving to stand beside him in front of the fire. It seemed strange to be this…unfamiliar with each other, especially after what had just happened in the shower. Maybe she’d dreamt it. Maybe that was all a dream and now she’s back in reality.

They stood side by side in silence. The wood in the fire cracking under the pressure.

The fire mirrored the tension between them—burning hot, unpredictable, and consuming. Marinette watched the flames flicker, the embers shifting and breaking apart, uncertain if they would settle or collapse entirely. Just like them. There was so much left unsaid, so much they had yet to fix.

She hoped they weren’t broken. She needed to believe they could come out of this. Adrien must still like her—must still want her—otherwise, he wouldn’t have kissed her like that in the shower. That moment had felt like clarity, like something undeniable between them. But now, standing side by side in silence, the space between them felt heavy with all the things they hadn’t yet dared to say.

The fire crackled, the wood splitting under the pressure of the heat. She wondered if they were the same—strained but not yet shattered.

‘I’m sorry,’ Adrien said, his eyes firmly set on the fire. ‘I shouldn’t have done that….in the shower. I shouldn’t have given you false hope.’

Everything around her crashed.

False hope.

Her world felt like it had fallen out from underneath her. That tiny spark she’d been holding onto, grasping so tightly, had been extinguished in moments. His voice didn’t break. Not a single crack. He’d made up his mind.

Marinette nodded, not wanting to speak. She couldn’t. Just a single word out of her mouth and she would break. Adrien was free to make his own choice, just like she’d made hers. This was her fault. She was to blame. Whatever happened going forwards was nothing more than a consequence of her own actions.

The fire spit, almost in mockery. Sighing, he sat down, his hands running through his hair. He looked torn, lost, and she couldn’t blame him. She sat down beside him, keeping a safe distance. Too close she would touch him, too far away she’d mourn the proximity.

‘I don’t know what to do,’ he said, his voice defeated.

She shook her head. She didn’t know either.

‘How can I push past such a lie? Yet, you almost died today and then I spoke to Ron and…’

Turning her head, Marinette studied the pained look on Adrien’s face. Utter confusion pulled his features, distorting his face into something she didn’t recognise. She’d ruined everything. She’d lost his trust and once the trust was gone it was a hard thing to win back.

‘Everything happened so quickly,’ Marinette said. ‘I didn’t know what to do.’

Adrien huffed. ‘Well telling me might have been a good start.’

‘I didn’t know how!’ she cried, twisting on her knees to face him. Her calm gone, and need to fight one last time for him to push through. She needed him. And she was almost certain he needed her.

‘This isn’t just a small white lie, Marinette. You lied to me for two years! You’ve hidden this secret like you had a right to keep it to yourself. It was my life it affected Marinette! Not yours.’

She hated the anger he had for her. The guilt which ripped her apart. ‘It’s not that simple. It was horrible! He made me promise…he made me!’

Scoffing, Adrien turned to face her. His eyes were dark, villainous. The glare took her aback. ‘How can I believe you! How can I trust a single thing that comes out of your mouth? Come to think about it, maybe you offered yourself up to the Merpeople. Thought it would be funny to have me save you.’

‘That’s not what happened!’

‘How the hell should I know, Marinette! You’re not the girl I thought you were. Was it all fake? Were you using me all this time? I’m just so confused with everything! It’s like my head is telling me one thing and my heart another. I don’t know whether I hate you, or I –’ He stopped mid sentence, the remaining word hanging in the air with such fragility she could have screamed.

She thought she would feel pain from his words, a numbness for a belief that was nothing more than fiction, but instead she felt numb. Her heart had been ripped out and she was nothing more than a shell.

Fighting the intensity behind her eyes, Marinette searched the room. This was the Room of Requirement. It’s meant to give you what you need, when you need it.

The room was silent except for the faint crackling of the fireplace. Books lined the walls in towering shelves, each one meticulously arranged, their spines worn with age and use. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows over the space, making the paintings on the walls seem almost alive. Some of the figures gazed at them with sorrowful expressions, others with quiet judgment, as if they knew what had been lost—what had been broken between them.

Marinette wrapped her arms around herself, glancing away from the accusing stares. Her fingers itched to reach for something, anything to ground herself.

And then, in the dimly lit corner of the room, she saw it.

A Pensieve.

Her breath caught.

She stood up and stepped toward it hesitantly, her reflection rippling in the silvery substance inside the basin. Memories. Truth. Everything she had seen, everything she had kept from him—everything she should have told him from the start.

Adrien watched her from where he sat, arms crossed, jaw tight. His expression was unreadable, carefully guarded.

She turned to face him, heart hammering.

‘If I could show you,’ she said softly, voice barely above a whisper, ‘would it make a difference?’

His green eyes darkened, unreadable.

‘Show me what?’

‘Everything.’

A beat of silence stretched between them. Then, Adrien exhaled sharply and stood from his position in front of the fireplace, stepping toward her. Closer.

‘Would it change anything?’ he asked, voice low, uncertain. ‘Could it?’

Marinette swallowed past the lump in her throat.

‘I don’t know,’ she admitted. ‘But if you saw what I saw—if you knew the truth the way I do—maybe…’

She let the words trail off, knowing she couldn’t promise anything, knowing this was a risk. But it was the only thing she had left to offer.

Adrien’s gaze flickered to the Pensieve, then back to her. His hands curled into fists at his sides, the weight of the choice pressing heavy between them.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke.

‘Show me.’

Marinette took a shaky breath, and walked towards their wands placed on a small table. Adrien must have taken hers out of her robes once they’d arrived here from the lake. She was lucky she hadn’t lost it.

With a trembling hand, she lifted the wand to her temple. She’d read about it in a book, figuring out how it would work if ever she needed it.

Careful as she could be, she recalled the memory. This wasn’t just any memory.

This was the memory.

The one that had changed everything.

Her fingers brushed against her skin, and she focused, calling the recollection to the surface. A strange pulling sensation followed, and when she drew her wand away, a strand of shimmering silver clung to the tip, swirling like liquid stardust.

Adrien remained silent, yet he was watching with an intensity that made her pulse race. She could feel the weight of his gaze, feel the unspoken questions pressing between them. But she didn’t waver. She couldn’t. So much hung on this moment.

She stepped closer to the Pensieve, the basin’s contents swirling in endless motion, waiting.

Closing her eyes, she steadied her breath and let the memory fall in.

The silver strand unravelled from her wand, sinking into the basin. The moment it touched the surface, the liquid rippled violently before settling, the mist inside shifting into a hazy image.

Marinette looked at Adrien.

He hesitated only a second before reaching for her hand. His grip was firm, grounding—like he was steadying himself as much as her. The sudden contact was something she would savour, because there was no telling if this would ever happen again.

But it was time. No turning back now. This was it: win or fail.

Together, they leaned forward.

The world tilted, a rushing sensation pulling them down, down, down—

And then—

They landed.

The air was colder here, still and eerily silent. A grand chandelier hung overhead, its crystal teardrops refracting the dim light into sharp, fractured patterns. The floors beneath them gleamed, the polished marble stretching out in endless halls of perfection.

The Agreste mansion, more precisely, Nathalie’s room.

Adrien inhaled sharply beside her, letting go of her hand.

Marinette turned to him, watching as his eyes darted around the space, taking in the familiarity of it all. But this wasn’t just his home.

This was a memory.

A ghost of the past, waiting to reveal its truth, and every moment clenched her gut with more and more strength.

Suddenly Ladybug was there—she was there—wandering around the room studying the pictures as she moved. She froze in front of a specific one, and as Marinette closed her eyes, she could still see it: Gabriel, Nathalie and Émilie on an expedition. The outfit in the photo was the same as in the glass display case next to her.

‘Nathalie?’

Adrien moved away from Marinette, towards Ladybug, glancing at the same things she was. Ladybug moved about the room, Adrien on her trail as she opened and closed drawers.

Marinette’s heart started to hammer knowing exactly what was about to come next.

‘The stolen tablet from Master Fu?’ She spoke at the same time as her memory, Adrien still beside Ladybug, watching as she turned it on and began to flick through the images.

‘That must have been a shock,’ Adrien said, his eyes on Ladybug as she placed it back into the drawer and headed to the bed, picking up Nathalie’s tablet instead.

Once again, he stood, looking over her shoulder as she flicked through the folder. His eyebrows tensed, his shoulders lifting, and she could tell the exact moment he’d pieced it all together. ‘Mayura?’

Marinette nodded, throat thick, blocking her from speaking.

Ladybug flicked through her eyes growing more and more nervous. ‘It can’t be…’

Suddenly the door swung open. Monarch—Gabriel—walking inside with Nathalie in his arms. Ladybug darted away, but Adrien remained still, safe with the knowledge that they were just ghosts.

Gently, Monarch placed her on the bed. Standing up and calling off his transformation.

And there he was.

Gabriel Agreste.

Her eyes remained on Adrien. His jaw tight, his hands clenched as he stood side-by-side with his father. Adrien had grown miraculously over the years, now shoulder to shoulder with his father, no longer the young boy who tried everything to get the validation of the man. Now, someone who was growing into their own place in the world, away from the expectations and control.

‘I knew that you would betray me, Nathalie. I was prepared.’

Marinette moved to where Ladybug was hiding, watching as she typed frantically on her phone.

Gabriel continued. ‘I knew it as soon as I realised that you were instigating Adrien's defiance. When you started insidiously supporting his ridiculous fling with Marinette Dupain-Cheng.’

Marinette turned to look at Adrien, the words hitting as hard the second time as it did the first. His knuckles had turned white.

‘Why did he hate you so much? Why couldn’t he just be happy for me?’ Adrien said, his eyes still fixed on his father.

‘I was trying to contact you,’ Marinette whispered, emotion thick in her throat. ‘I sent Chat Noir messages letting him know everything.’

‘I’d taken the ring off. I had no choice,’ Adrien replied, still focused on the scene in front of him.

Gabriel leaned forward, into Nathalie’s space. ‘You will be loyal to me until the end, after all.’

Nathalie grabbed her head, whimpering in pain. Adrien stepped forward, stopping himself mere inches away. She knew he was struggling with this. With the want to help and protect, but there was nothing he could do. It had already happened.

‘As for the rest, let bygones be bygones. Just think of it as a horrible nightmare. You can relax now…’ Gabriel had placed an Alliance ring on her finger, opening the Perfect Alliance App. He stood, and left the room, closing the door and leaving the four of them alone.

Standing still, Marinette watched herself move over to Nathalie, Adrien once again tracking her movements. Once removing the ring, she spoke. ‘Where is Adrien Agreste, what have you done with him!?’

She hadn’t realised her voice had broken so much. That she’d revealed almost everything through this one conversation.

‘He is safe, but you aren't.’ Nathalie coughed violently, her whole body rattling in the bed. ‘The whole world is in danger. Monarch is about to send all of humankind after you and Chat Noir.’ She coughed again. ‘He can't get a hold of your Miraculous…’

‘You don’t look well. I’ll take you to the hospital!’

As Ladybug went to move, Nathalie grabbed her hand, talking again through harsh coughing fits. ‘I am beyond…all medicine. I used the Miraculous of the Peacock while it was still damaged and…and soon I will…’

‘Die.’ Adrien finished the sentence with pain coating his words. His eyes were still focused on Nathalie, watching as she pulled a phone out from under her pillow, showing a photo of Émilie.

‘Stop Monarch at all costs. That’s what she would have wanted…’

Adrien glanced at Marinette. ‘She as in…my mother.’

‘Transform back, transform back!’ Their attention was back to the scene in front of her, one she knew all too well.

‘What? Why? Wake up! Wake up!’

The coughing stopped abruptly as Nathalie lay still on the bed. Marinette stepped forward, her hand reaching out for Adrien’s shoulder before she stopped and pulled it back.

‘Nathalie wanted you to defeat him anyway possible. She bribed you with my mother.’ Finally, after what felt like forever, he turned to glance at her, his eyes glistening under the lights in the room. ‘You watched her die, Marinette! That’s…that’s…’

Ladybug yanked her yo-yo from her hip, frantically pressing it as her hands shook. ‘Pick up, please!’ she begged.

‘Voicemail! Meow!’

‘Chat Noir, I need you right now! I’m at—’

An alarm blared through the roof, Adrien moving over to Marinette. He placed his hand on her shoulder. ‘I’m sorry. I should have been here.’

Marinette sent him a wry smile. ‘It’s okay. You wouldn’t have known.’ She reached up, grasping their hands together on her shoulder.

The windows to the mansion closed, metal plates covering the windows and locking them inside.

‘He’d managed to track me,’ Marinette said. ‘He knew I was in the mansion.’

Voyage portals opened around the room, Miraculised villains appearing and Ladybug fighting them off the best she could. There were so many. She felt Adrien hold her hand tighter.

Venoms and Clouts were thrown her way as villain after villain attacked. She was struggling, barely holding them off.

‘I should have been here,’ Adrien whispered beside her, and she knew he was struggling, barely able to hold back. But there was nothing he could do. This was the past, a past they couldn’t change.

‘Come on,’ Marinette said, leading Adrien out of the room and down the staircase. Ladybug appeared moments later. She continued to run, barely able to hold them back.

They made it into the mansion hall before walking through to the kitchen. Moments later, Ladybug came swinging in, hiding herself in a cupboard. She closed the door, and a flash of light surrounded the kitchen.

‘Why did you detransform? What if they came back?’

Plagg flew into the kitchen, ring in hand and straight into the cupboard—the ring clattering against the floor.

‘Ladybug!’ His father’s voice vibrated through the door, Adrien moving his gaze from the door to the cupboard and back again. ‘Where are you?’

Plagg’s voice was muffled behind the door. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘This is where Monarch lives.’

The gasp from Plagg almost broke her heart. She could still visualise the look on his face, the absolute disbelief as he realised the implication of what she’d said.

‘Everyone knew,’ Adrien whispered, his voice thick and hoarse. ‘Everyone…’

Slowly, the door to the kitchen cracked open, but so did the cupboard door, Marinette’s hand reaching out to grab the ring before closing it again.

‘No!’ Adrien screamed, but it was no help.

The door was wrenched open with force as his father grabbed Marinette’s leg, pulling her aggressively out and onto the kitchen floor. ‘Found you!’

Marinette winced, eyes closed and head turned away. She couldn’t watch it, she didn’t want to. The smug smile on his face when he’d gotten her had haunted her dreams for years.

‘Marinette Dupain-Cheng?’

A hand held hers, finger entwining with a little tug. ‘Did he stop?’ Adrien asked. Marinette only able to shake her head.

‘No. Tikki, Plagg, unify!’ The flash of green and red merged, leaving her in a combination of both of them. ‘Call me, Bug Noire.’

Chapter Text

Adrien

Adrien felt like he was trapped in a nightmare—one of those inescapable ones that looped endlessly, tricking you into thinking you’d woken up, only to drag you back into the horror again. No matter how many times he blinked, no matter how hard he tried to ground himself, the reality before him refused to fade.

He wanted to scream to Marinette, to tell her Monarch was coming and to run. She’d been outnumbered and almost beaten. She’d fallen on the truth of his fathers secret identity, and witnessed Nathalie die. He was surprised there was any fight left in her.

The anger had once again swirled into panic, the thought of losing her growing more and more intense by the second, and as his father called out to her, his search for her, he couldn’t help but feel more and more guilty. Yes, he didn’t have the choice in the matter, but he did have a heart and right now he hated his father immensely.

He’d lied to him. He’d gotten Nathalie involved in his little schemes, and his mother wanted this to end. She wanted his father to stop. As Monarch entered the room, his fingers itched, wanting his Miraculous on his finger so he could transform and fight against him himself. But he’d done that only days ago in this timeline. He’d made it blatantly obvious to Monarch how much he detested his father—ironic really.

Adrien watched as Marinette was dragged out of the cupboard, the evil smirk on Monarch’s face terrifying. She was just a teenager, yet his father didn’t seem to care, he just grew more and more raged.

Any other day, he would have been in awe at her transformation, but not today. Today he was living in fear as the fight unfolded.

‘I should’ve known!’ His father smirked, and Adrien felt instantly sick.

‘Whatever happens, it’s the end this time!!’

A fight broke out in the kitchen, his father striking at Marinette with a force which sent her stumbling back, but she quickly regained her footing, her eyes flashing with determination. Adrien could hear his father's voice, booming with anger as he continued to attack, each strike aimed not just at Marinette, but at everything Adrien had ever cared about. The guilt was suffocating, but the panic and fear for Marinette drowned it out.

‘Stop!’ Adrien shouted, his voice breaking through the chaos. His hands clenched at his sides, hardly able to contain the fear. ‘Stop!’ he said again, a sob choking him at the end.

A soft, small hand wrapped around his, gripping tightly and sending instant calm through him.

‘Shall we leave?’ Marinette whispered from beside him. He’d barely looked at her since they’d arrived in the memory, too focused on everything that was happening.

He shook his head. He needed to see this though, he needed to compartmentalise his feelings and understand where he was going next. They followed them through into the hallway, the fight intense with no clear winner. He felt a pulsing on his finger, the crackling of energy.

‘He’s trying to kill you,’ Adrien whispered, watching his father strike again, hard and with intent.

‘He would do anything to get our Miraculous.’

Maybe he would, but this was unbelievable. He was attacking her with so much force.

Adrien knew his father wasn’t Marinette’s number one fan, and he knew first hand how much he wanted the Miraculous, but if he didn’t stop for Marinette, he wasn’t entirely sure he would have stopped for him. Gabriel Agreste only cared about one person…himself. He would never be good enough for Gabriel Agreste, he could do everything his father asked and it still wouldn’t be enough.

Would he have believed her if she’d told him the truth? Doubtful. He knew his father wasn’t a brilliant parent, but he never expected the lengths he’d go to to get what he wanted…and without even thinking about his own son in the fight.

Adrien wondered who else would have known too. Who else would be protecting the monster his father had become?

Bug Noire called for her Lucky Charm, a pair of handcuffs falling down and into her hands. With a swift movement, she’d locked herself to Monarch, grabbing his hands and aiming at the rings on his fingers.

‘I will take back all of the Miraculous! One by one, if I have to!’

‘Shell-ter!’ A green shield formed around his hand, the other pulling back ready to attack. ‘Venom!’

Adrien squeezed Marinette’s hand tighter. Did he freeze her? Is that how he made the wish?

‘Cataclysm!’

Before Monarch could attack, Bug Noire called for the power of destruction, breaking the shield around his hand. He pushed her back, calling for the power again.

‘Who’s the fool here: he, who has fifteen Miraculous, or she, who recklessly jumped into the Monarch’s den, making a mistake of wearing the two Miraculous that I covet?’ Monarch moved forward, Bug Noire dodging the attacks effortlessly.

‘You’re the fool who’s going to lose like always! I’m getting back everything you stole from me AND freeing the Kwamis! Cataclysm!!’ Lunging forwards, she broke the shield again, only for Monarch to instantly call it back on his hand.

Adrien’s hand trembled, Marinette tightening her hold on him. ‘Please, let's leave. You don’t need to see all this.’

Her hand reached up and wiped over his cheek, he hadn’t realised he’d been crying, not until she was there, once again, drying away his tears.

He shook his head. ‘I need to see it though, Marinette. I need to see how it ended, what else he did!’ He couldn’t say the word father, the pain and hurt, far too much for him to comprehend. If he thought Marinette’s lies broke his heart, that was nothing compared to the intense pain he was feeling knowing the one person who was meant to be there for him, to care for him, had wanted nothing more than to destroy the life he had built. The friends, the independence…the love. He looked down at Marinette.

Love.

He loved her! And watching her here, fighting for him, to protect him, he knew there was only one choice coming out of this. She was his choice.

‘Things would be so easy if you could defeat me with a snap of your fingers, wouldn’t they?’ Finally, Ladybug was a step ahead, the turtle taken from Gabriel and placed on her finger.

Adrien hadn’t seen how it’d happened. He was too busy trying to fathom all the thoughts running through his mind. But he couldn’t deny the sense of relief as the ring slipped on her finger and now she had the power of Protection. The relief was short lived, as the Miraculous didn’t activate.

‘Wayzz?’ Bug Noire asked, only for no Kwami to appear. ‘What have you done to the Miraculous? Where are the Kwamis?’

‘What did he do?’ Adrien said, his teeth grinding and hand tightening on Marinette’s.

Vomiting black ash, Monarch crawled to his knees and wiped his arm over his mouth. ‘The Kwamis are my prisoners–pathetic little beasts in cages! There are people who are content with following the rules, and people who bend the world to their wishes! You played Guardian of the Miraculous, I reinvented their magic! And once I've taken yours from you, I'll reconfigure the whole universe, too, as I proclaim my wish!’

The tension increased, the brutal battle moving from the hallway into his father’s atélier. Bug Noire was giving it her all, and Adrien couldn’t be more proud. She was on high alert, flailing every surprise attack he tried to omit. She was reading him, hitting him before he had a chance to fully attack. She was a machine, a weapon to be defeated.

‘Life is like fashion. People only have the illusion of choice, as you say yourself... don't you, Gabriel Agreste?’

Monarch stepped back. Shock at hearing his name come out of her mouth taking him off guard. Adrien stared bewildered, how could he think she didn’t know. How inept was his father?

‘How did you know?’

‘Luck. I hear it’s one of my superpowers. The other one being the…Cataclysm!’

Bug Noire wrapped her yo-yo around him, and pulled him forward. But Adrien saw it before it happened. He’d outsmarted her, and as she placed her hand against the Butterfly Miraculous, his father had already activated the power of Invulnerability on himself. He watched Bug Noire drop to her knees, her hands on her head and screaming in pain.

‘What’s happening?’ Adrien asked, turning Marinette to face him. ‘What did he do to you?’

She sniffed, his thumb coming under her eye to wipe away the moisture. ‘Nightmares.’

Adrien’s heart sank as he heard the word. Nightmares. The idea that his father had weaponised something so cruel, so invasive, against Marinette made his stomach churn. She looked so vulnerable in that moment, her usual fierce determination replaced by a haunting look of fear. He gently lifted her chin to meet his gaze, his thumb brushing away the tear that had escaped, though more were still threatening to fall.

‘Nightmares?’ Adrien whispered, his voice thick with concern. ‘What did he do, Marinette?’

She shook her head, the pain from the experience clearly still fresh. ‘Every time I close my eyes, I’m trapped in another one. I can’t push them away–any of this.’

Adrien felt a surge of anger so intense it almost made him lose control. His father had gone too far. This wasn’t just a battle for the Miraculous anymore. This was something much darker—something more personal. Marinette wasn’t just a victim in this fight; she was a target. A pawn in a twisted game.

Yet, here she was, fighting to protect him.

But before he could say anything, a piercing scream echoed through the room, pulling both their attention back to Monarch. The invulnerability spell was still active, but Bug Noire was rising slowly, her face twisted in pain as she struggled against the hold of the nightmares that plagued her.

Adrien’s thoughts raced. His father was playing a game with the rules bent in his favour, but he had underestimated one thing: the strength of those who cared for each other. Marinette’s courage was palpable, even now. She was far from beaten.

‘My true nightmare…is you! And it stops right here! Cataclysm!’

The bubbling energy connected with the ground, opening the floor and sending them all through, down into what seemed like a crypt. A pile of rubble sat in the middle of a metal bridge, an elevator on one side and something lying in light on the other. Slowly, Adrien stood and took in his surroundings. Had this been hiding under his house the whole time? And what was that over in front of a window? The light framing it like a shrine.

As the fighting continued around him, Adrien only had eyes for the one side of the room. He moved forward, stepping over the scattered debris, eyes focused on something that looked surprisingly similar to Snow White’s coffin.

‘Mother?’ Swiftly, he continued forward, stumbling and tripping to the coffin on display in the crypt. ‘He kept you here. He never told me! He never said anything!’ His lungs felt like they were going to cave in. He could barely breathe.

‘Adrien?’ He could hear Marinette’s voice, but it seemed distant, almost foggy. ‘Adrien?’

He wanted to speak to her, to tell her he needed her, but it felt like he was underwater, drowning and unable to push himself to the surface. His mother–his beautiful mother–had been here for over a year. His father had kept her from him.

‘I want my wife, Adrien’s mother, to come back to us! Once our family is reunited, Kagami and Adrien will become the eternal icons of the world! And we will be here to witness their absolute triumph!’

‘You monster,’ Adrien whispered, his eyes still fixed on his mother’s body. ‘You horrible, excuse for a human being!’

‘Your…wife? Come…back…? Kagami and Adrien…eternal icons? How many lives are you going to ruin in the name of your crazy dreams?!’

‘As many as it takes!’ Monarch snarled.

‘Adrien?’ The same voice was sounding around him like an echo, and he wasn’t sure which was the real one. Two different conversations, but both worried and caring about him. ‘Hey, look at me, please.’

Hesitantly, he tore his eyes from his mother to look straight into Marinette’s. True concern was there, and even though she’d thought it had been the end of them, there was also love. True, pure love. Real. Hopeful. Theirs. Marinette had kept a secret, but she’d done it out of care and concern. His father on the other hand, had kept secrets so evil, Adrien was slowly wanting to remove himself from the family. Not only that, his views of Nathalie had shifted too. There were so many questions he needed answered, so many issues he needed to sort out. He needed to see a therapist, he needed help, because right now, nothing in his life was okay.

‘In order to bring Émilie back, someone else will have to disappear! In order to heal the wound Chat Noir inflicted on me, someone else would have to be wounded.’

Adrien knew all of this, and he knew it wasn’t how it worked. Yes, he might have lost his mother, but to bring her back meant someone would have to die in her place, and that wasn’t something he was willing to sacrifice. That wasn’t how life worked. Nobody got to play god!

‘Someone else? But who?’ Bug Noire replied, swinging away from Monarch’s impending attack.

‘Anyone! No one matters except us! How about you, Marinette? Wouldn’t you give your life for your sweet Adrien’s happiness?’

‘No!’ Adrien shouted, standing up and turning to face his Marinette. ‘You wouldn’t…You couldn’t…’

‘Do you really think that’s what he’d want? To discover that his father has turned into a supervillain, willing to make innocent people pay the price of his madness?’

‘Adrien would do the same thing!’

‘Never!’ Bug Noire and Adrien shouted at the same time.

‘Unlike you, Adrien has made his peace with it. He’s not living in the past! He has a whole life ahead of him! You’d know this if you ever took an interest in him. But in reality, Adrien means nothing to you anymore! You’ve locked him in your house–locked him in your Alliance rings! Locked him into a life that allows you to hide behind him in order to justify your madness! Lucky charm!’ A tube of glue fell from the sky, Adrien grabbed ahold of Marinette’s hands.

‘All I want is for him to be happy!’

Adrien squeezed her hands, her tear stained face staring at him as they ignored the fight around them. ‘I was happy,’ he said gruffly.

A quick to and fro, and both Bug Noire and Monarch were mere inches from them. Bug Noire quickly used the glue on Monarch’s hand, stealing the rings from his fingers before ripping the Butterfly Miraculous from his lapel.

A purple light took over the room leaving Gabriel standing there. It seemed his luck had run out. The broach bounced across the platform, dropping down into the water. There was something else there, his eyes following a shadow as it moved towards the broach. But as soon as he blinked, it was gone.

‘I can just say the word and the rings will be destroyed. You'll be powerless. The Kwamis will be free. Thanks to my magic ladybugs, I'll repair the chaos you created. Then, I'll send Plagg out to give the Black Cat Miraculous back to its holder, and everything will be back to normal. Checkmate.’ Sighing, she dropped down onto her knees, the events of the day obviously catching up on her. ‘Except you will only have a few hours left to live. So does Nathalie, a victim of your madness. And Adrien will be miserable. This is the sad truth. My power won’t be able to remedy it. If you meant what you said earlier, then we both want the same thing: we want Adrien to be happy, and that was also your wife’s greatest wish.’

Adrien was crying now, harsh sobs rattling his body as he crashed down onto his knees, Marinette coming with him and wrapping her arms tightly around his body.

‘I am so sorry. I should have just given him my earrings and the ring, and let him make the first wish he wanted,’ Marinette whispered in his ear.

He couldn’t let her do that. That went against everything she’d said, everything they’d believed, and it was right. She was right. But when he heard his mother’s voice coming out of the phone Bug Noire was holding, everything else stilled. He’d missed that voice so much. He’d missed everything about her.

‘Don't be sad, Nathalie. You know that I had agreed to it, that Gabriel never forced me to do anything. But he should never try to bring me back. No one should have their life stolen from them because of the mistake that we made. You must continue to be happy, even though I'm no longer here. As long as there's love, it is possible. Adrien will be well-surrounded. He'll have you, Nathalie, and he'll have his father if Gabriel agrees to give up on his madness... and on me. Adrien... will have all the love he needs to be happy.’

Marinette held him tighter, cupping the back of his head delicately and reassuringly. She was there with him, she had always been there with him. She was on his side when he didn’t have a voice, trying to persuade his father to do the right thing. But she was also right when she said Nathalie and his father only had short times left to live. The wish might not have been ideal, and his father being their arch nemesis most certainly wasn’t, but in the end his father had sacrificed. He’d traded himself for those Adrien would need, the true loves he had left here in Paris. Marinette and Nathalie.

‘I’ve seen enough,’ he said. Standing up and holding a hand out to Marinette. She stood beside him, placing her hand in his.

‘No! Don’t do this!’ He heard Marinette say. Turning his head, he saw the shield, his father removing the miraculous and walking away.

‘Marinette, make sure that Adrien never knows about the villain that I was, but instead, that he remembers the times I tried to be a good father.’

The room around them twisted and turned, a silver mist taking over and a lurch in his stomach–then it stopped.

They were back in the Room of Requirement, yet everything seemed so different now. He had no idea how he should be feeling and who he should be mad at. He felt like he was in a snow globe and someone was shaking it hard, distorting what he knew about reality and leaving fragments floating in the air.

‘Adrien? Are you okay?’

No. No, he wasn’t okay, and he wasn’t sure if he ever would be. He wanted to talk to Nathalie, to figure out what had gone on. He needed to talk to Marinette, firstly to see if she was okay and then to work this out. To figure this out. Then there was Plagg, another guilty entity to this party, and Tikki…he was worried this list went on. He knew Luka knew their identities, he also knew someone knew Marinette’s, someone who he was quite sure was Alya.

Then there was Félix. He’d stolen the Miraculous and given them to Shadow Moth. He must have known it was Gabriel, so did that mean that Kagami knew too? And was her mother involved?

The room started to spin, Adrien stumbling a little backwards only to be caught and lowered into a chair. He covered his face with his hands, his breathing erratic and out of sorts.

Marinette was there. Encouraging him. Protecting him again. ‘Breathe with me, Adrien. Slowly. Good.’

Taking one breath at a time, Adrien calmed his lungs and his oxygen intake. Slow and steady. Slow and steady. But this didn’t feel done yet, he felt like he needed clarification of one more thing.

‘Is there anything else you’re keeping from me?’ he asked, not ignoring the way she flinched. ‘Marinette!’ he said sternly.

He removed his hands and studied her eyes, looking for answers. His heart beat hard as he waited, every thud acting as a timer, counting down. This had last too long, this silence was too long, which could only mean one thing…

She was.

With a slight movement, she nodded her head.

‘Show me!’ he demanded. He needed all the cards out on the table before he could make his mind up. He needed to know everything that she’d kept hidden.

‘I don’t know if—’

He cut her off. ‘If you want to try and make anything between us work, you need to show me. No more secrets, Marinette. I’m done with them.’

She sniffed, her eyes checking his. He bore his own back into her. He wanted to know, he had a right to know. And if there was any possibility of them reconciling, he needed to know the truth.

Standing up, she removed another strand of silver and let it float down into the Pensieve. Bracing himself, Adrien stood up and stepped forward, once again taking Marinette’s hand and leaning over the bowl.

Once again, they’d arrived somewhere familiar. However, this time the sky was crystal clear, and water surrounded a broken, desolate Paris.

‘Little Kitty on a roof…’

He knew that song. His mother sang it to him.

Looking up, over to the edge of the rooftop, everything inside him grew cold.

A white cat sat alone, with fierce blue eyes glaring back at them. And with the way Marinette trembled beside him, this Kitty wasn’t here to play.

Chapter Text

Draco

There were a lot of muggle things Draco was learning about the muggle world. He had learned that Cards Against Humanity was a shockingly appalling yet fun game, he’d learned he had quite the taste for something called Kronenbourg, and that seven minutes in heaven was actually seven minutes shut in a tiny cupboard with another person. The only plus point at the moment was that he was here with Hermione, not with Cerise.

Thank the Sorting Hat he wasn’t claustrophobic.

‘Have fun you guys!’ Alya closed the door to the utility room, locking himself and Hermione inside.

Draco blinked, momentarily stunned, then turned to Hermione, who was standing just a few inches away, arms crossed over her chest. She was looking at him with that calm, knowing expression she always had when she was about to call him out on something. Though, he was almost certain there was a slight tinge of colour on her cheeks.

‘Well, this is awkward,’ he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

Hermione didn’t seem phased. ‘Awkward, yes, but at least it’s not entirely terrible, right?’

Draco stared at her for a moment, then broke into a small, reluctant grin. ‘You really do make the best of everything, don’t you, Granger?’

She shrugged, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. ‘I’ve had to learn. Living with muggles has its challenges. But I suppose you’ve learned a few things, too.’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Like how to survive seven minutes in a tiny cupboard?’

She chuckled softly. ‘Exactly.’ Hermione looked around the cramped space, clearly not bothered by the situation. ‘So, what’s your next move, Malfoy?’

The way she said his name had his blood pressure spiking to the red zone. He paused for a moment, considering the question and praying he didn’t make an ass out of himself and give a dipshit answer. There wasn’t much room to move around, and certainly no way to escape unless they somehow managed to break the door down—highly unlikely. Draco looked at Hermione and then at the utilitarian shelves stacked with cleaning supplies. If only she could sit…No! No! No!

‘Well,’ he said slowly, coughing the thickness out of his throat in an attempt to clear his head. ‘I suppose we can at least make it more comfortable.’ He started to shift around the various bottles, trying to clear a small space.

Hermione raised an eyebrow but didn’t protest. Instead, she watched him, arms still crossed. ‘Comfortable? You do realise we’re stuck in a cupboard for seven minutes, right? Not exactly the ideal setting for anything other than... well, awkwardness.’

He grinned again, clearly enjoying the challenge. ‘Maybe. But it’s not like we’re going to spend the entire time just standing here. We could talk.’

‘Talk?’ Hermione raised an eyebrow, the pink on her cheeks suddenly growing deeper. ‘About what?’

He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms as he watched her wondering how far he could push her before she’d give in and kiss him again. ‘Or…maybe we could do something else?’

And there it was. The comment that was going to turn the rose cheeks to deep fire engine red. She was practically letting off her own heat source. ‘I don’t think that would be a good idea.’

‘On the contrary, I think it would be a rather…nice!’ She turned her back to him, but he wasn’t giving up on this. They had seven minutes to talk, seven minutes alone to lay everything out on the line, and he was done with playing games. He needed to know if he was going back to Hogwarts with a girlfriend, a friend or if they were going to jump straight back into their hating game.

He knew which option was his favourite.

‘You don’t mean that.’ Her voice was low, hushed, almost afraid of what he would say next. He stepped forward and placed his hands on her waist, moving his body close behind hers. She fit perfectly to him, her head just underneath his chin, almost like she was made for him.

He lowered his head onto her shoulder, his lips brushing against her ear as he spoke. ‘What if I did?’

Without hesitation, she moved away, spinning around to look at him, her hands clenched to her chest. ‘There’s no one here. You don’t need to do this.’

She was challenging him. Testing the water between them, hoping she didn’t get burned. His feet itched to move forward, he wanted to go to her, to hold her and kiss her–to claim her as his own.

‘What if I want to do this? Having you on my lap in there was painful! You can't tell me you don’t feel what this is? This thing between us.’ He knew he sounded pathetic—Draco Malfoy pretty much begging a girl to want him. But this wasn’t just any girl. This was the girl who challenged him, who’d made him want to be more than a name that was feared.

She stood frozen. Her eyes void of expression, her body still without any indication of how this was going to go.

‘People are going to think we’re insane.’

‘I am insane,’ he said, stepping forward and reaching out and holding her waist again. She hadn’t denied him and he’d suffer another slap, or another punch if he got to touch her just one last time. ‘I’m insane about you.’

Her hands came to rest on his arms, not pushing away, just holding on, keeping her there. Her caramel eyes glistened, her lips parting slightly as she gazed into his eyes. He loved her eyes. They were warm and welcoming, no longer cold and harsh, threatening him to speak to her. They were accepting. She was accepting.

‘I don’t want this to be another of your jokes,’ she said, a vulnerability he’d never seen from her before this body swap.

He shook his head. ‘It’s not.’ Reaching up, he brushed her hair from her face and hooked it around her ear, his thumb trailing over the Miraculous, before moving to her cheek and mirroring the action.

‘You’re brilliant, Hermione. You bring this thing out of me I never knew I had. You’ve always been a challenge, someone making me step up and fight for what I want…I haven’t always succeeded, but I’ve tried.’ He huffed out a laugh, looking between her lips and her eyes. ‘All I ever wanted was for you to notice me. I’m sure a stereotypical school kid with a crush.’

‘You don’t give yourself enough credit,’ Hermione replied, her hands brushing up his arms and resting on his shoulders. ‘I definitely noticed you. But I was more inclined to throw you in the Black Lake than do this.’

Taking him completely off guard, she stretched up onto her toes and gently pressed her lips against his. Her eyes remained on his as she lowered back onto her feet.

He smirked. ‘I much prefer that to being mauled by the Merpeople.’

‘Oh, yeah? Well, what about this?’

Draco had no idea where her sudden confidence came from, but he was quite certain he was about to die underneath Hermione Granger’s magical spell. Once again, she lifted onto her toes, pressing small tentative kisses up his neck, before finally biting on his earlobe.

He groaned, his hands tightening on her hips, pulling her closer into him. ‘You’re teasing a snake here,’ he said, Hermione lowering herself once again with a grin on her face which sent his heart on a one way trip to the moon.

‘That’s funny, I saw you more as a panther.’

Panther? Cat? Did she believe he was worthy of the cat Miraculous?

‘Meow,’ he said, lowering down to meet her level. ‘Be mine.’ It wasn't so much as a question, more a statement, and the way she crashed her lips against his, he was certain the answer was yes.

As if she weighed nothing, Draco lifted Hermione up, setting her on top of a washing machine and bringing her height closer to his. Her lips were the most dangerous elixir he’d ever tasted. More poisonous and addictive than any bottle of Amortentia, yet he drank them like a man under the Draught of Living Death. Helpless, consumed, and utterly lost.

He tore himself away, gasping for breath, only to find that every inhale was laced with her. She was in his bloodstream now, corrupting him cell by cell, claiming his heart, his lungs, his very soul. There was no cure, no escape. Only addiction. And so, he took his next hit.

‘Draco.’ His name had barely left her lips before he swallowed it down. Inhaling her like a dying man starved of air. Her taste was fire and sin, a slow-burning curse he never wanted to break.

His hands tightened at her waist, fingers pressing into the fabric of her dress as if anchoring himself to reality. But there was no reality beyond this—beyond her.

She sighed against his lips, and it sent a shiver down his spine, a dangerous kind of surrender. If this was destruction, he would gladly burn.

‘Mione,’ he whispered against her lips, unwilling to break the connection between them. He’d never felt so alive—so…wanted.

‘Stop talking and kiss me,’ she said, pushing her fingers through his hair and pulling him closer. His hands found her legs, the smoothness of her bare skin sizzled under his touch.

Their kiss grew deeper, more urgent. It was as though the moment would be broken soon with the catapult back to Hogwarts and away from their refuge in Paris. He didn’t want to go back though. If this is where it ended for himself and Hermione, then here he would gladly stay here forever.

He was under no illusion that returning home, as a couple, would be seen as okay. He was certain they would be met with whispers, stares—maybe even outrage. Malfoy and Granger? A Slytherin and a Gryffindor? It was unthinkable. Unforgivable.

But none of that mattered here. In Paris, they existed outside of war and bloodlines, beyond the weight of expectation. Here, she was just Hermione, and he was just Draco.

Her fingers tangled in his hair as if she could hold him there forever. And maybe she could. Maybe he’d let her.

Because if this was the last time he got to taste her, to feel her, to be hers—then he would make damn sure it was enough to haunt him for a lifetime.

‘Time’s up!’

The words crashed over him like a bucket of ice water. Hermione was already pulling away, slipping from his grasp as she hopped down from the machine.

She smoothed out her dress with shaky hands, pressing her palms against her flushed cheeks as if trying to erase the evidence of what had just happened.

‘We’ll be out in a second,’ Hermione called back, her voice steady—too steady.

Draco turned away, bracing his palms against the machine, his head dipping forward as he dragged in deep, uneven breaths. His eyes squeezed shut, but it did nothing to quiet the roar of blood in his ears.

‘Are you okay?’ Her voice was soft, hesitant, barely cutting through the storm raging inside him.

No, he wasn’t. Everything was too close, too perfect, and if whoever was on the other side of that door didn’t move fast, an Unforgivable would be the least of their worries.

‘Yeah, I’m good,’ he lied, voice tight. ‘You go ahead if you want. I just need a moment.’

He wasn’t sure if she was still there or if she had already slipped away, but it hardly mattered—because all he could think about was that kiss.

Merlin, that kiss.

Lifting a hand, he traced his thumb over his lips, the sting of a forming bruise a sharp reminder that it had been real. That she had been real. And that, despite everything, he already wanted more.

A hand settled gently on his back.

‘I’ll wait for you.’

Her voice was soft, but the weight of her words hit hard. He was almost certain she wasn’t just talking about waiting for him to leave the cupboard. It was more than that—more than this stolen moment in Paris.

It was a promise. A declaration. A vow for whatever came next.

And as the door clicked shut behind her, he let himself believe—just for a second—that maybe, just maybe, she meant it.

Chapter Text

Marinette

Adrien had been sitting in silence for over an hour and Marinette really didn’t know what to do. Showing him the battle between herself and his father had been one thing, but opening herself to reveal Chat Blanc had been a whole other story. She wasn’t sure what he was thinking, he’d barely spoken from the moment they’d stepped out onto the roof of the Montparnasse Tower.

The way her heart had pounded almost sent her spiralling into a panic attack, but this wasn't about her. This was about Adrien and revealing the truth. He had wanted to know, and after their discussions she couldn’t do anything more than just stand and watch. This was the only hope of bringing him back to her, to have him fully accept everything she had done and was doing. Even if it meant reliving the worst day of her life.

She poured the hot water into the mug, doing them both another tea to hopefully take away some of the shock. Marinette opened the cupboards, seeing if there was anything in there which could make the tea sweeter, landing on a jar of Butterfly Honey, ironic to say the least. Twisting the lid, the soft, iridescent shade, shifted in colour. From pale gold with hints of lavender to a soft blue with a shimmer of rainbow hues, similar to that of a butterfly’s wings. Taken by the appearance, Marinette grabbed a teaspoon and placed it into the smooth and velvety liquid. Though slightly thicker than honey from home, it was sticky, instead it glistened with a slight glow.

As she stirred it into the hot liquid, the honey danced in shimmering perfection across the top before absorbing itself deep into the mug. Taking a deep breath, Marinette let the calming sensations of the smell settle deep in her veins.

Picking the mugs up, she made the way to where Adrien was resting on the bed. Unresponsive and deep in thought. The silence was killing her, she just wanted to grab him and ask him what to do, what she should do–but she knew it would be futile. She couldn’t pressure him through this. He needed to work it out on his own. The worst of it all, she knew whatever decision he came to would be final. There would be no changing his mind, or trying to win him back. If he said it was over, then it was, and even if she hated that, she needed to respect it.

Once she reached the foot of the bed, she froze. The weight of the truth hung thick in the air, pressing down on the space between them. It was as if the very fabric of their world had shifted, leaving nothing but raw, unfiltered reality in its wake.

Adrien lay still, unnaturally peaceful, his expression unreadable as he seemed to be processing the secrets that had unraveled before him. His hands rested on his stomach, fingers lightly curled, as if holding onto something unseen. His eyes were closed, but she knew his mind was anything but quiet.

Everything he had known—everything he had believed—had just been stripped away. And now, he was left to sift through the wreckage, piecing together who he was in the wake of the truth.

Marinette stepped forward and placed the tea on the table beside the bed. ‘I’ve done you another drink,’ she whispered, her voice gravelly from the lack of use.

Turning away from him, Marinette made her way toward the sofa, her steps slow, deliberate. She’d sleep there tonight—there was no way she could face the common room after everything that had happened. By now, the rumors had undoubtedly spread. Everyone would be whispering, questioning why Draco Malfoy had risked himself for Hermione Granger.

They had made a mess of things, and left their counterparts to deal with the fallout. The only solace was that a few of their closest friends knew the truth.

‘Marinette.’

The sound of her name leaving his lips stopped her cold.

A fresh wave of fear slammed into her, her body tense with the certainty of what was coming next. This was it. This was the moment he would cut her off, tell her he wanted nothing more to do with her—that the very idea of reconciling made him sick.

Slowly, cautiously, she turned to face him. Nothing had shifted in the room, nothing except his gaze.

His eyes were locked onto hers, searching, piercing, as if he were trying to see past her defenses—trying to find the truth buried deep within her.

‘Come.’

One word. Simple, quiet. But laced with meanings she couldn’t yet decipher.

Marinette nodded, inhaling deeply before crossing the room. She climbed onto the other side of the bed, careful to keep a respectful distance, afraid that even the smallest touch might shatter whatever fragile thread still held them together.

She didn’t speak.

The silence between them was thick, electric, charged with all the words left unsaid. Her heart pounded against her ribs, her breath tight in her lungs. No one—not ever—had held this much power over her. He could break her with a single sentence.

And all she could do was wait.

‘I don’t know what to do.’

His voice was low, heavy with sorrow. He wasn’t looking for advice. He wasn’t asking her to fix this. He was just saying it out loud.

‘I’m sorry.’

It was all she could offer, and even that felt like not enough.

Adrien’s lips twitched slightly, something bitter, something resigned.

‘I know.’

The silence stretched, thick with unspoken emotions, wrapping around her throat like a vice. It was suffocating.

But she knew—she knew—the only time she would be able to breathe again was when he finally decided to let her.

‘This wasn’t meant to happen, Marinette.’ His voice was quiet, but the weight of his words were crushing. ‘We were meant to get our happily ever after. We were meant to grow old together, to live a life full of happiness. But now, I can’t even see tomorrow.’

Her heart ached, each word cutting deep, leaving wounds she wasn’t sure would ever heal. He was talking now too. But he was right. Everything he was saying was right.

And he was talking now.

So she stayed silent, listening, letting him pour out the storm inside him.

‘I just… there’s so much going on, I don’t know where to start.’ His voice wavered, thick with frustration, grief and exhaustion. ‘My head tells me to focus on my father, to work out what happened, to understand. But the moment I think about him I’m swallowed by the betrayal of every single person I love. You all lied to me. You kept this a secret for years. I hate that this is how I had to find out the truth.’

Marinette clenched her hands into fists, nails digging into her palms. She wanted to speak, to explain, to beg, but she knew he wasn’t done.

‘Then there’s my heart.’ He let out a shaky breath, fingers raking through his hair. ‘My heart is telling me it wasn’t just you. That this doesn’t all lie on you. And that moment–out by the Black Lake–when you were pulled under…’ His voice broke, and he swallowed hard before continuing. ‘It almost killed me.’

His eyes met hers, raw, searching.

‘I can’t lose you, Marinette. But right now… I’m not sure I can be with you either.’

A silent sob tore through her, her body trembling with the force of it. She crossed an arm over her chest, as if she could physically hold her heart together, while her other hand clamped over her mouth, muffling the sound of her breaking.

‘When he took me away from Paris, I was so angry. I fought him with such strength and hurt. I was ready to kill Monarch, taking it out on him like it was my own father.’ Adrien huffed a laugh, his head shaking as he closed his eyes.

Marinette fisted her hands tightly together, stopping herself from reaching out to him. To touch him and send comfort.

‘I keep thinking about if I’d have gotten your call. If I was there when you found out. Seeing Nathalie die. Finding out his secret. Watching him attack you so viciously. I think… I think that’s maybe what happened in that other timeline. Stuck between deciding, and fighting with darkness.’ Groaning, Adrien ran his hands through his hair, his hands pulling aggressively down his neck. ‘I don’t know who I am anymore…what I am? Son of a monster, a monster himself? I just…don’t know.’

Marinette sniffed, not even realising she was crying. She hated to hear him talking about himself this way, and whether he wanted to hear it or not, she had to be honest with him. She had to tell him.

‘I know who you are,’ she whispered.

‘I know who you are,’ she said a little louder this time, cautiously, shuffling towards Adrien. ‘You’re not a monster, Adrien. You’re not. You’re the person who saved me countless times, the one who has always tried to protect people, even when you think you didn’t have to. You’re good. You’re a hero, Adrien. And even when the world feels like it’s crumbling around you, even when you feel lost, you’re still that person. You’re still you.’

Adrien looked at her, his face a mixture of confusion and pain. His lips parted, but the words didn’t come out right away, as if he was struggling to piece together a response that didn’t betray the raw emotion threatening to spill over.

‘I don’t know if I believe that anymore,’ he muttered, barely above a whisper.

Marinette’s heart twisted painfully. She knew he was fighting against so much–the guilt, the fear, the anger that was eating away at him–but she couldn’t let him go down that dark path. Not alone. Not like this.

‘Then let me remind you,’ she said, her voice firm now, despite the tears staining her cheeks. ‘You’re someone who never gave up, even when the odds were against you. You’re Adrien Agreste, the one who fought for the light, who never gave in to the shadows around him. You’re my friend, my partner, and if you feel like you’ve lost yourself, I’ll help you find your way back. You don’t have to do this alone.’

Adrien’s eyes glistened as he swallowed hard, his jaw clenching. He looked away, almost as if ashamed of the vulnerability he couldn’t hide. But she saw the crack in his armour, saw that tiny flicker of hope–no matter how faint it was–burning beneath the self-doubt.

‘You’re not alone, Adrien. I’m here. I always will be. You can hate me. Shout at me. You can give up your Miraculous, but if you ever, ever needed me, I would be there. I will always be there. You’re my person, Kitty, and I will never forgive myself for the way that I treated you. The way we all have. You deserve more than that, you deserve so much more than any of us can give you.’

Fiercely, she wiped her fist under her eyes and moved away from him a little. ‘Don’t you ever think you’re not good enough. We’re the ones not good enough for you.’

Turning her head to face Adrien, her heart thundered through her body, he was looking straight back at her.

Adrien’s gaze softened, but there was something else in his eyes—something hesitant, like he was afraid to believe her words fully. His shoulders sagged slightly, the tension in his body still there but not as sharp as before. He took a deep breath, rubbing his hands over his face as if trying to wash away the weight of everything.

‘I don’t know if I can just… pick up where we left off,’ he said quietly, his voice laced with exhaustion. ‘I don’t know if I can trust things will be the same. I don’t know if I can be that person again—the person I was before all of this… Before everything changed.”

Marinette’s breath hitched, and her heart sank. She couldn’t blame him. How could he go back to what they were, after everything that had happened? He had been torn apart, deceived, abandoned—and she was one of the ones who had failed him.

But that didn’t mean she couldn’t fight for them. She couldn’t just stand there and watch him drift away into isolation again. Not when there was a chance, even a small one, for them to rebuild something from the ashes.

‘I understand,’ she whispered, moving a little closer again, though she kept her distance, careful not to push him too fast. ‘I don’t expect everything to be okay right away. I’m not asking for things to go back to the way they were. I’m just asking for a chance… For us to figure it out–together.’

Adrien looked at her, studying her as though the weight of her words were slowly sinking in. His eyes darted away briefly, then back to her, searching her face.

‘You’re right,’ he said after a long pause, his voice barely above a whisper. ‘It’s going to take time. I don’t… I don’t know if I can forgive myself yet, let alone anyone else. But I can’t lose you, Marinette. I can’t lose you, after everything.’

Marinette felt a wave of relief crash over her. There it was. The thread of hope she’d been clinging to. But even as her heart fluttered in her chest, she knew what this meant. This was her last chance. She couldn’t mess it up again. Not after everything. Not after him.

‘I’m not going anywhere,’ she promised softly, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside her. ‘Just, please, one more chance.’

‘I need you to know… if we’re going to do this, we need to be open with each other. No more secrets. No more hiding. No more running away from what’s real. It won’t be perfect, Marinette. I… I’ll try, but it’s not going to be easy. I need you to understand that.’

‘I do,’ she said, her voice firm but full of warmth. ‘And I don’t expect you to be perfect. I don’t need you to be perfect. I just need you to be you. We’ll figure out the rest as we go. Together.’

Adrien gave her a small, uncertain smile—fragile, but there. It was a start. A fragile, but real, start.

‘This feels so confusing,’ he admitted softly, his voice raw with the weight of his struggle. ‘But I want to trust you, Marinette. I want to trust that you can help me find my way back. And I... I want to try. I want to see where we can go from here.’

Her breath caught in her throat, her chest tightening as she absorbed his words.

‘Thank you,’ she whispered, her voice faltering as the weight of his words settled deep within her. ‘Thank you… I promise, I will do better. I will make myself better—for you.’

His hand reached out, trembling slightly, before gently cupping her face. His thumb brushed over her cheek with the softest touch, as if he was afraid she might slip away if he held on too tightly. His eyes, clouded with unshed tears, studied her face, as though committing every detail to memory. The vulnerability in his gaze, the way his emotions danced in his eyes, made her heart ache.

He closed his eyes, and a single tear escaped, tracing down his cheek, silver and shining in the dim light.

‘Don’t leave me,’ he whispered, his words trembling with quiet desperation.

Marinette’s breath caught in her throat, and her heart surged. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. The intensity of the moment wrapped around her like a blanket of raw emotion. She shuffled closer, instinctively, drawn to him like a magnet. His plea, soft and broken, was all she needed to pull him into her embrace. To tell him, without words, that she was never going to leave.

Her heart pounded in her chest, a rapid, wild beat that mirrored the storm of emotions surging through her. She relaxed into the warmth of his touch, his hand lingering wonderfully on her face, anchoring her to the moment. His plea echoed in her mind. Don’t leave me. Words which held such duel meaning something inside her snapped. She didn’t want to leave. Not now, not ever.

Carefully, she tilted her head, bringing her face closer to his. Their breath mingled together, the slight aroma of tea and mint. Adrien’s eyes grew heavy, yet they still searched hers, full of uncertainty but also something deeper, something she couldn’t quite decipher. A question? An invitation?

She wouldn’t move though. She had to wait for him. This had to be on his terms, not hers. She’d lost that right the moment he found out about his father and the hidden truth. He seemed so vulnerable at that moment, studying her eyes like a famous work of art. The world faded away, leaving just the two, standing at the precipice of something that could heal them both.

Without thinking, her hand reached up to touch his cheek, her thumb brushing against the soft skin as if reassuring him, letting him know she was here, she was staying.

And then, unable to hold back any longer, she closed the distance.

The kiss was soft, hesitant, like they were both testing the waters, unsure where this would take them. But when Adrien’s hand moved to the back of her neck, pulling her closer, deepening the connection, she responded with everything she wanted to tell him.

This wasn’t just any kiss. It was a promise. A promise that no matter how broken they felt, they would rebuild together. A promise that no matter how hard the journey, they wouldn’t have to face it alone.

Her blood pulsed in her ears as she kissed him. Each moment, each touch, was mending something that had been torn apart. His soft, warm lips tasted like hope she’d thought she’d lost. Every part of her screaming for him, for them.

They finally pulled away–slowly, lingering–both of them reluctant to let go, they rested their foreheads against each other.

Silence followed. Words they didn’t need to say hung in the air between them.

‘I’m not going anywhere. I’m here for good.’ Her voice was barely audible, but the promise was alive in her heart.

And Adrien, his hands searching out hers, nodded. His eyes shone with something that was almost a smile. Hopeful. Real.

Together. They would move forward. Together. They’d try again.

Chapter Text

Hermione

‘Hey Buttercup! As much as I love you, I love my girl more, and right now a little girl time is needed. Catch my drift?’ Alya’s over enthusiastic wink left nothing to the imagination…if anything it’d only fuelled thoughts more.

‘Well, I can’t deny that now, can I?’ Draco’s voice was laced with humour as he tugged Hermione a little closer and placed a chaste kiss into her hair.

The games had finished not too long after herself and Draco had been released from the closet, and the nervous energy which buzzed around them at the moment. It had all been placed out in the open, and lucky for her, he seemed to feel the same way too.

As the evening settled, everyone had drifted off to their own corners of the house—some retreating to their bedrooms, others lounging on the porch swing, and a few even disappearing into the forest for a late-night walk.

But Hermione had only one thing on her mind: the delicate Ysé lingerie waiting for her in their room, begging to be worn.

‘See you soon, Hot Stuff,’ she teased, turning toward the stairs.

Before she could take another step, she was yanked backward, her body colliding with Draco’s. His hands found her hips, fingers pressing just firmly enough to make heat coil in her stomach. A rush of memories from the closet hit her all at once—the intensity of his lips on hers, the way his hands had mapped her skin like they belonged there.

Merlin, she needed more.

She had never felt this alive with Ron. With Draco, everything was daring, electric—undeniable. Maybe it was just the thrill of the moment, the forbidden edge of it all, but she didn’t care.

Because right now, she wanted to chase whatever this was until it consumed her whole. She’d deal with the aftermath when she returned to Hogwarts.

Draco’s hot breath hit her neck as he lowered to her ear. ‘I’ll be waiting, Beautiful.’

She almost melted into a puddle right at his feet. A simple, yet very effective nickname—if you asked the sudden swarm of butterflies taking over her stomach. She was a goner.

Giggling, she stepped away, following Alya into her room. But before she stepped through the door, she had one last glance over her shoulder, and there was Draco, silver eyes staring straight back at her.

‘Okay,’ Alya said, shutting the door quickly behind them. ‘I went into your room and grabbed the bag. We can help each other get changed and then go back to the guys.’

Alya moved around the room like a seeker in the final moments of a Quidditch match. She was fast, focused, and determined to get the job done. She pulled the bags from under the bed and tipped them out onto the duvet.

The sheets had suddenly become a mix of black, red, orange and brown lace, and there was no doubt in her mind that the red and black was hers. Maybe Marinette was trying to reveal to Adrien who she was, or maybe she just knew she looked pretty damn good in black and red.

‘You won’t be able to wear that dress over the lingerie, so I took the liberty of grabbing you this of Adrien’s.’ Alya grabbed a black item from the bed and held it up. It was a black tee with five coloured stripes across the chest: yellow, brown, green, dark green and purple, and from the look on her friend’s face, she was extremely happy about her find.

‘Oh, wow!’ Hermione tried to sound excited, though she was sure the confusion was evident on her face. ‘Yes! He will definitely enjoy seeing me in this.’

‘I know,’ Alya squealed, turning back to the bed. Hermione knew the girl was great at questioning, she was a journalist after all, but the lack of curiosity at this current situation was worrying in degrees she didn’t know.

‘Nino told me that Adrien’s fantasy was to see Ladybug in his t-shirt and little does he know that’s exactly what he’s getting tonight.’

Hermione picked up the soft fabric, running her fingers over it with a knowing smile. She could easily imagine Draco having a similar thought. But for him, it wouldn’t be just any t-shirt—it would be his Quidditch jersey, his number emblazoned across her back, a silent claim for all to see.

The idea sent a shiver down her spine, her heart hammering against her ribs. He was consuming her, seeping into her bloodstream like a slow-acting poison. And the most dangerous part?

She never wanted the antidote.

‘So have you chosen?’

‘Huh?’ Hermione looked up and almost screamed. Alya was standing in front of her wearing the tiniest briefs she’d ever seen—hands on her hips and eyebrow raised. When had she taken off her clothes? And where was her bra?

Alya chuckled, moving some of the items around on the bed. ‘Red or green? I know you were a little worried about it being too ‘Chat Noir’, but come on, girl, we all know you rocked it with the cat Miraculous.’

Hermione scanned the different items, attempting to picture herself in them. The red and black would look wonderful on her, but the green was his colour—in every universe. A thrill of excitement caused her hands to shake, there was only one option here.

‘Green,’ Hermione said, grabbing the green and black outfit.

‘Great choice,’ Alya said, finding the item of clothing she called a bra and slipping it on. It looked like an octopus, straps falling everywhere in a tangle of limits. ‘Now help me with this.’

Alya turned around, moving her hair over one shoulder and leaving her back bare, apart from the insane number of straps and hooks waiting for her. How the hell did this attach together?

‘Are there any instructions with this?’ Hermione asked, her hands moving the straps from one side to the other in search for some kind of indication of which went where.

‘Did this come with a manual?’ Hermione asked, pulling two brown straps towards the opposite side of the bra.

‘Come with me.’ Holding tightly onto the straps, Alya shuffled towards the dresser with Hermione in tow, picked up her phone and flicked through the pictures. ‘Here!’ Alya held the phone up, allowing Hermione to see the straps. They threaded in and out of each other in an intricate pattern. She was a smart girl. She could work this out.

And twenty minutes later, she finally had.

Once Alya was set, it was time for Hermione to change into hers.

Thirty minutes later, both girls were ready. Hermione had finished off her look with a deep red lipstick and dark smokey eyes. He’d like this! He liked dark and gothic looking, he was a Slytherin after all.

Placing on the t-shirt, she left her dress in Alya’s room and headed out into the corridor. Luckily being so short had come to her advantage, the shirt falling to her mid thighs and not revealing the scrap of material underneath she was calling underwear.

She’d never been a thong girl before, but even that would be an upgrade to the thin strap suddenly sitting in between her ass cheeks. Though, it wasn’t quite as uncomfortable as she thought.

Carefully, she stepped down the corridor, cautious not to draw attention to herself by implementing a tiptoe technique and watching out for squeaky floorboards.

She moved closer to the door. She was almost there. Just a couple more…

A door to the left of their room opened, light beaming out into the corridor and a shadow standing within.

‘Melody?’

Shit!

She turned. ‘Luka. Hi. Fancy seeing you here!’

‘Have you got time to talk?’

Her eyes flickered to the closed door of her room and the thought of Draco in there waiting for her. She also realised she was wearing clothing she only wanted her boyfriend to see. But then…she wasn’t Hermione at the moment, she was Marinette and Marinette always had time for her friends.

Attempting a bright smile, she nodded. ‘Sure.’

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest, before quickly realising it’d raised her shirt a couple of inches up her thigh and into danger territory. Her hands shot to her sides, instead clenching into fists. Now she just looked on the verge of a fight.

‘Are you okay?’ Luka asked, obviously noting the strange changes in her behaviour.

She nodded. ‘Yes, absolutely fine.’

Luka glanced over her shoulder, before turning back to her. His eyes were so blue. So judging. Even if they didn’t mean to be, they were constantly observing, looking for something.

‘Do you want to come in?’

No. No she didn’t want to go in, because walking into her ex-almost-boyfriend’s room, in risque lingerie and her current boyfriend’s t-shirt was just the perfect recipe for trouble.

‘I, er, I…’

As though reading her discomfort, the door to her room swung open revealing a topless Malfoy, toothbrush hanging from his mouth. He looked like chiselled marble, and all she wanted to do was touch him like a forbidden fruit, yet he was no longer forbidden, he was all hers.

He rested his shoulder into the door frame and looked between them. The corner of his lips twitched as he took the brush out of his mouth. ‘Everything okay here?’

His gaze shifted between her and Luka, before landing on her bare legs. The smirk on his lips and desire in his eyes burning through her like a Fiendfyre. She felt the heat rise from her neck, a slight tinge in her cheeks from the dark heat in his eyes. He’d set his sights on her and she was more than willing to be his target.

‘I just need to speak to Marinette,’ Luka said, his own arms crossing in front of him.

It was like a battle of unspoken words, tension crackling between them like a duel where wands had yet to be drawn.

Draco didn’t move, his expression unreadable, but the smirk never wavered. His grip on his toothbrush tightened slightly, as if weighing whether or not Luka’s interruption was worth entertaining.

Hermione swallowed, caught between them, her pulse quickening.

‘Fine,’ Draco finally said, his voice smooth but laced with something sharper. ‘But don’t keep her too long.’

The words weren’t a request—they were a warning.

Stepping through the door into Luka’s room, her eyes never left Draco’s. His eyes followed her as the door closed and suddenly she felt in very dangerous territory.

‘So,’ she started studying Luka. ‘What did you want to talk about?’

‘It’s Adrien,’ Luka said, sitting down on the bed and crossing his legs. ‘He doesn’t seem…himself.’

No shit Sherlock!

‘What…what do you mean?’ she asked, hoping she shouted as believable.

‘Melody…’ he sighed, tapping the space on the bed beside himself.

‘I don’t think the nickname, or my sitting on your bed would be acceptable practise.’

He nodded. ‘Okay.’ Uncrossing his legs, he moved off the bed and came to stand in front of her.

‘I’m worried, Adrien’s not who he says he is. I mean, he doesn’t seem like himself at the moment.’

‘Who do you think he seems like then?’

Luka shook his head, his hands brushing through his hair almost like he was trying to gather his thoughts together. ‘He just seems more confident, more defensive…Adrien’s always been easy.’

‘Are you calling my boyfriend a pushover?’

‘Melody, no—’

‘Please don’t call me that. And explain. You don’t talk about people like this Luka, you never have. So why now?’

He reached out and took her hands in his. ‘I know you love him, Marinette, and I know you feel like you can trust him with your life, but Cerise has told me he’s been coming on to her all weekend. I didn’t believe it at first either but why would she lie? She has no reason to lie.’

Has no reason to lie? The woman was nothing more than a black widow in a short skirt. They didn’t know her, she wasn’t part of their group, or part of the team.

‘Luka, I trust you, I really do. But how much do you know about this Cerise?’

‘She’s trustworthy, I promise.’

Hermione pulled her hands from his and folded them across her chest. ‘I don’t know this girl. I can’t just trust someone I’ve just met. And I know Adrien, he wouldn’t do that sort of thing. I love him and he loves me. Why all of a sudden would he be randomly flirting with a girl he doesn’t know?’

‘Just watch yourself, please. I don’t want you getting hurt. Adrien just seems so different at the moment. I’ve never said this about him before but he’s acting like an entitled prick.’

She snorted. The nickname one hundred percent one she’d use for Draco. ‘Sorry, I think I swallowed a fly. Listen, I am so, so grateful that you’re looking out for me. But I promise, Adrien is fine. He’s just been through a lot and it’s all materialising in different ways.’ She turned and started walking for the doorway, stopping as her hand grabbed the handle.

‘Luka? Do you trust me?’ She glanced over her shoulder to see him looking at her quizzically.

‘Of course, I do. Why?’

She took a deep breath. ‘Then trust me when I say you need to watch out for Cerise. She’s not who she’s saying she is. And if my theory’s correct, she has an item of jewellery on her that belongs to me.’ Giving him a small smile, she stepped out of the door and closed it behind her.

One thing was for certain, they needed to find out how to make it back to Hogwarts and fast. If people were starting to pick up on Adrien’s personality, it wouldn’t take long for them to consider her as well.

Opening the door to the bedroom, Hermione stepped inside, gasping at the view she was confronted with. Draco was lying on the bed, in his grey sweats low on his waist, and his hands behind his head, eyes closed and a smirk on his face.

‘I thought I was going to have to come and save you Granger, and we all know I don’t like being the hero.’ He opened one eye and looked at her from the corner of it.

‘I couldn’t let you go against your mortality now, could I?’ Not waiting for him to sit up, Hermione made her way to the bed and climbed on top of the duvet, straddling over Draco’s hips and placing her hands on his chest.

‘Feeling me up now, are we, love?’

Love. Now there was a nickname she could get onboard with. Her whole body tinged with the weight of it, of what it could become. Her fingers twitched, digging into his pecs which only caused him to smile more.

‘Like what you see?’ His voice was husky, thick and creamy. His eyes danced over her face, lingering a moment too long on her lips. He moved his hands from behind his head, bringing them down and onto her waist, scrunching the t-shirt up and running his thumbs over the bare skin of her waist. A little mewl left her mouth, her hands running up onto his shoulders.

‘What are we, Malfoy?’ she said, sitting back up straight. His hands continued to push up her body, taking the t-shirt with them, up and over her head.

‘I’ll be whatever you want me to be, Granger. Just say the word.’ With practised ease, he lifted the top of his body from the bed, his hands caressing up her back and threading through her hair. Still straddling his lap, she could feel the strength of his body pressing into her, the muscles, the hardness. She could feel everything.

‘You,’ she whispered, her hair falling to one side as her lips lowered to brush against his. ‘I want…you.’

With an uncontrollable need, she kissed him. Her hands found his face to hold him still as she turned her head, deepening the kiss. She drank him in, like the fine wine he said he was. Rare, valuable and rich in flavour. Addictive and expensive. And something she wasn’t going to give up without a fight.

As they separated, his smirk grew and shone in the bedside lamps. ‘You know how to drive a hard bargain, love. Now, let me show you how I close a deal.’

Throwing her down on the bed, the position had changed. He was now on top, and she had never been so willing to hand the reins over. After everything she’d heard about Draco Malfoy, she was thrilled she was about to be on the receiving end.

Chapter Text

Adrien

After an emotional night, Adrien was happy to say, when he finally woke, he felt oddly relaxed. He didn’t know if it was from all the crying, the emotional breakdown or from spending the night working through things with Marinette, but the sheer exhaustion had knocked him into a deep sleep.

Rolling over, he noticed Marinette there, still fast asleep beside him. The girl he thought he knew who’d turned out to be everything he didn’t. They had a lot of work to do, but it wasn’t just with Marinette. The blame couldn’t lie with just her. There was so much that needed to be said, so much which needed to be questioned, he wasn’t sure who he was going to start with. But he knew he’d have Marinette there with him, helping him through this, every step of the way.

They’d dealt with their problems, and even though everything wasn’t perfect now, they had a plan to make it better. To come out of this on the other side and hopefully start a new life together, free from hidden secrets and lies.

He stretched out, brushing his fingers through her hair. He loved waking up beside her. Their relationship had been a lot more fun and run, than sleepovers, but when they had managed to sneak one in, these were the moments he adored. He loved to watch her sleep, as creepy as it sounded. These were the times Manic Marinette was relaxed and carefree, and now knowing how and why she was always on edge made perfect sense.

She moaned, wiggling a little in her sleep, before her eyes began to flicker open.

‘Hi,’ she whispered, a small, unsure smile stretching across her lips.

‘Morning,’ he whispered, his fingers still stroking through her hair.

‘Did you sleep okay?’

Adrien nodded. ‘Best I have in a while.’

‘Me too.’ She slowly reached up, placing her hand on the pillow between them. The gesture was subtle, but he understood it as an invitation. Without hesitation, he extended his hand, covering hers as their fingers intertwined. He squeezed gently, a quiet promise in the touch.

‘Do you have any plans for today?’ he asked, wanting to keep the conversation going and somewhat normal.

‘McGonagall suggested I forget about boys and have the day to myself. How about you?’

‘No plans. Do you still want to forget about boys?’

Marinette shook her head. ‘I could never forget about you, no matter how hard I tried.’

Shuffling closer, Adrien brought their joined hands to his lips and pressed a delicate kiss to her wrist. She sighed, moving herself closer to his body, her heat surrounding him like a warm, welcoming hug.

He smiled. ‘We could stay here all day. There’s more to talk about…and more to catch up on.’

Marinette draped her leg over his, slowly running her foot up and down. ‘Only if that’s what you want.’

‘I want to feel like me again, and when I’m with you, I do. I haven’t got the energy to be Malfoy today. It’s too hard.’

Marinette giggled, pulling her hand from his and resting it on his arm. ‘He’s quite a character.’

‘He is,’ Adrien agreed. ‘But let’s just be us for a little while. Let’s just be two young adults trying to figure out their place in the world. Together.’

‘Together,’ Marinette repeated.

Adrien brushed a thumb over her forehead, moving the hair off her forehead and freeing her face. Her cheeks were still pink from just waking up, making her look like she had a permanent blush tattooed on her face, and from what he could see, she hadn’t put any of her clothing back on either. She was naked beneath the sheet, just as he’d left her the previous night.

Cupping the hand around the back of her neck, he pulled her in, his lips meeting hers. The kiss was slow, gentle, soft. Everything was different now, but better. He trusted Marinette, he trusted Ladybug, and with all these new truths there was nothing they couldn’t accomplish, nothing they had to hide. This was a clean slate, a start of something new.

In a state of bliss, Adrien pushed forward, rolling Marinette onto her back and kissing down her neck. His lips were hungry for her, his teeth nipping at her neck as his body pressed against hers, pinning her to the mattress. He was so screwed up with everything that had happened and everything that was still happening, he was slightly worried he was going to give himself whiplash from the back and forth. He was never going to be able to give up Marinette. Never. There was no point in even trying to, it would just end with more heartache than he was feeling at the moment.

‘Adrien.’ As she whispered his name, a chill creeped over his body, one running hot then cold. His face remained buried in her neck, kissing her with as much passion as he could.

‘Adrien,’ she said again, this time a little more breathy, and oh, Merlin, he was going to have to control himself before he did something again.

Think of something to control yourself, man! Goyle naked! Blaise naked!...Ron naked!

Then a full bucket of ice was thrown over him. ‘Luka.’

He lifted his head up and studied Marinette, her eyes were closed, her head thrown back, her body writhing underneath him. That was until she froze.

One eye peeked open—glaring at him. ‘Why did you stop?’

‘I thought…you said…I…’

With a forceful yank, she pulled his head back down to her neck, wiggling herself underneath him once again—her hands roaming over his bare back. ‘Kiss me, Adrien! I need you!’

Shaking his head, he moved his lips up her neck, stopping to give her earlobe a gentle nip and tug. She moaned delightfully underneath him, and he wanted to hear it again. Kissing the red mark, he placed his teeth on her again and…

‘Luka.’

And that killed the mood. ‘Marinette,’ Adrien said, lifting his head to look at her, once again her eyes were closed and she radiated bliss.

‘Why have you stopped again?’ She opened her eyes and began to trail her fingers up and down his back.

He examined her. How could she not know? ‘You know I’m not a jealous guy, but when you start talking about your ex whilst we’re…you know…I would prefer to keep his name out of it.’

Her eyebrows creased together, she seemed as confused as he felt. ‘I haven’t said anyone’s name.’

‘You did! You kept saying–’

Before he could finish, Adrien was interrupted again.

‘Luka.’

But Marinette’s mouth hadn’t moved.

‘Did you hear that?’ Adrien whispered, pushing himself closer to Marinette. Was there a ghost in the room? Had using the Pensieve accidently brought a memory back into the room with them?

Marinette nodded and glanced over his shoulder. She was in Ladybug mode, scanning the scene for anything which shouldn’t be there. ‘What do you think it is?’ she asked, pushing herself up to sitting and moving him from on top of her body.

She yanked the sheets, pulling them up and over her body.

‘I don’t know,’ Adrien said, settling beside her. The room was gently lit by dimmed candles, so they could see into every nook and cranny. And yet, the room was completely empty.

‘Do you trust him?’ This time a different voice sounded around the room. Male, hard, full of curiosity.

‘I’m not sure,’ the female voice said.

‘Oh my goodness!’ Marinette scurried out of the sheets, grabbing her top, and clambering into her pyjama bottoms. ‘Adrien, come here.’

Struggling out of the bed, he followed her. Placing on the grey sweatpants before heading in front of the sofas and to the fireplace. The fire had turned green. The flames bending and morphing.

‘He seems like he knows what he’s on about, but if he’s trusting her…’ The voices disappeared again, the green flames weakening as though it was losing signal. But why were they talking in the first place, how had this connection been made?

‘Is this connecting to them? To us?’ Adrien whispered. The flames grew instantly, causing them both to jump back startled.

‘Marinette trusted him. He knows about who we are, so why would he put us in danger?’

‘Who are they on about?’ Marinette asked, but Adrien knew the answer.

‘Luka. There must be something happening in Paris.’

‘I have no idea. But Cerise turns up and suddenly we’re being questioned?’

‘Why would they question us?’ Marinette said, her eyes fully fixed on the flames as they grew brighter and weaker with the connection.

‘I don’t know,’ Adrien whispered. ‘And who the hell is Cerise? I don’t remember ever meeting anyone with that name?’

Marinette remained silent beside him and he knew she was thinking, probably running through all the different conversations she’d had with Luka over the past few weeks…maybe even months.

‘He’s never mentioned Cerise. I know there was a new girl at his lycée, and he was helping her out, but he never mentioned bringing her on this trip.’

Adrien frowned. ‘Why do you think she’s there? Luka wouldn’t just bring someone without any of us meeting her first or getting to know her. He knows bringing them in on the group is too much of a risk, especially with you and I.’

‘Maybe Luka will take your word for it and question her tomorrow. There would be no reason to doubt you.’

Marinette and Adrien glanced at each other before Marinette stood up, wandering around the room. Only one thing came to mind as he watched her—she was in full Ladybug mode, trying to find the bigger picture and piece it all together bit by bit.

‘I suppose I could give it a try, I’m sure that’s what Marinette would do.’

‘Perhaps you start being less like Marinette and more like yourself. Come on, love, you helped defeat the evilest Wizard of all time. You didn’t just do it by pure luck, you used that wonderfully, huge brain of yours.’

‘Gee, thanks for that! You really know how to woo a woman.’

Adrien couldn’t help the smile as it pulled effortlessly at his lips. These two were amusing to listen to, they reminded him a lot of himself and his Lady—Marinette. Watching her, he couldn’t help but feel swept up in her analysing. She was figuring something out, contemplating something that might just be their key out of her and back to real life. The thought made his stomach churn.

‘I’ve already woo’d you, who said I wanted to do it again?’

‘I’ll remember that next time you try and get in my pants.’

‘Knickers, love! We are in France after all.’

‘Will you concentrate please?’

‘Your wish is my command.’

Their playful banter effortlessly progressed into a more serious situation. One which reminisced with their alter egos so much. Maybe having them there wasn’t such a hindrance after all.

‘If Luka knows the truth, why would he trust someone who he barely knows?’

Adrien’s attention was pulled from the conversation in the fireplace to Marinette. She’d stopped in front of the bookcase, hands over her mouth and eyes wide. Scrambling to his feet, Adrien left his spot and made his way over to her.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, trying to find what she was looking amongst the rows of books.

‘Luka wouldn’t just trust anyone, not like this and not without reason.’

‘What you thinking?’

Her head turned to his. The blue was almost crystal clear, like he could read her thoughts and maybe he could, because before she could answer the question, he’d answered it for her.

‘Lila.’

‘Bingo!’ she said. ‘The only way Luka would believe someone is if they could spin a believable story. He’s good at figuring things out, so the liar would need to be someone who was spewing the lie without a doubt, and there’s only one person we know who’s that talented.’

‘And we haven’t seen her in a while.’

‘Let me go and talk to Luka.’ The female’s voice was determined and everything a Ladybug desired to be.

‘Just…be careful, okay? We don’t know what we’re messing with here.’

‘I will. I promise.’ The pulsating glow of the fireplace dimmed down to a soft yellow and orange flame, bringing them back to the present.

‘If it was Lila,’ Marinette said, ‘we need to get home. Stat.’

Adrien nodded, his expression darkening. Lila was a master at weaving lies, and if she was onto something with Draco and Hermione, they could kiss their identities—and everything they’d worked for—goodbye.

‘So, what do you think?’ Adrien’s voice was low, almost lost in the quiet of the room. Marinette stepped forward, her fingers grazing the spines of the books that lined the shelf. A faint tremor passed through the collection, as though the books themselves were aware of her touch.

‘We need to find a way to get our Miraculous to us... or us to them. And there must be something, somewhere.’

The rows of books stretched endlessly, some tall and imposing, others small and forgotten. Adrien's eyes scanned them, the dust of centuries hanging in the air, the silence of the Room pressing in around them. But then, something caught his attention—a subtle shift. One book, tucked near the end of the shelf, seemed... different. Alive, almost. It moved with a strange rhythm, a faint pulsing sound, like a heartbeat from within.

He leaned in closer, his gaze narrowing. The book’s red spine shimmered in the dim light, its gold letters twisting and reshaping before his eyes. The words blurred, then solidified into a new title:

The Book of Forgotten or Lost Magic.

His breath caught in his throat. As he reached toward it, his ring began to hum softly, the familiar pulse of power thrumming beneath his skin. The green glow that had once been faint flickered, growing brighter, its intensity rising with every passing second. It was as if the book itself was calling to him.

And then, without warning, as if drawn by an unseen force, the book was suddenly in his hand. No effort, no magic—just a quiet, inexplicable pull.

Marinette stepped up beside him, her gaze fixed on the book with a mixture of wonder and cautious curiosity. Her eyes flickered between Adrien and the ancient text, as though she, too, felt the weight of the moment.

‘It must be in there,’ she whispered.

Adrien slowly opened the book, swallowing down his anxiety as he manoeuvred between the pages. Spells for reversing time, invisibility spells, spells to see a quick glimpse into the future, and then he found it. The spell to transport to a destination–Solus Callis. All they needed was a clear mental image of a destination and a will to be there.

This was it.

This was their ticket home.

Chapter Text

Hermione

Hermione stalked the hallway like she was on a stake out for the Order. After a rather wonderful evening with Draco, she was up at the crack of dawn back in business mode. Merlin, what she wouldn’t give for a couple more hours in bed with him. Everything in her was fully consumed by Draco Malfoy—heart, body and mind.

But right now, she had a mission to complete, and it felt great to have purpose again.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped up to Luka’s door and raised her hand to knock on it. The plan was simple. Go in, get him to understand Cerise was as dodgy as Hagrid’s pet collection and then get him to do the hard work and get the truth out of her. It seemed simple enough. She’d play the best friend card, the hero card and the ‘I know you still care for me’ card. If Draco had taught her anything, it was the power of emotional blackmail.

Before she could hit the wood, the sound of voices reached her ears. Not just any voices though, angry voices. Moving closer she placed her ear against the door, taking the opportunity to check for any other passersby. It was too early though, and after the alcohol consumed the night before, she very much doubted anyone would be up and about soon. Which made Hermione wonder who was inside the room.

‘What has Adrien done to make you so adamant he’s hitting on you?’ Luka’s voice sounded strong, forceful. It seemed he was trying to understand what was going on…excellent. He’d obviously taken what she’d said to him the previous night and acted on it.

Luka had gone up in their rankings for most trustworthy.

A sweet woman’s voice answered Luka, the conversation taking a sickly (and rather fake) turn. ‘I told you Luka. He keeps following me around the cottage when Marinette isn’t near, and the looks he was giving me last night. He was trying to get me into his room whilst Marinette was with Alya. I promise I would never make something up like this, Luka, you know how much I adore your friends, especially Marinette.’

Hermione gagged. What a liar! Cerise had been nothing more than a thorn in her backside when they’d gotten her. She was all over Draco when he was near, and Hermione was almost certain she was stalking them in the woods.

The click of a door sounded from the top of the hallway, Draco appearing and moving towards her. Hermione nodded to the side, Draco stopping face to face with her and placing an ear against the door. If anyone else caught them here it was going to look so bad for them, but there was no choice. They had to know what they were dealing with here.

‘I just can’t understand why Adrien would come onto you? I mean, I understand, in fact, that you are beautiful, but Adrien doesn’t go for looks over personality, and he doesn’t even know you.’ Luka stood strong with his change and the delay in the response was a fitting tale Cerise was making this up as she went along.

Finally, she spoke. ‘He knows me well enough. I didn’t want to drop him in this, but I’ve known Adrien for years. We’ve had a secret friendship. I know all about his worries over Marinette…and her secret.’

Hermione caught the shimmer of worry passing over Draco’s eyes. Secret? That couldn’t mean…

‘What secret?’ Luka asked, his voice surprisingly stable after such a question had been asked.

Draco reached out, taking her hand in his. Even though they technically weren’t Adrien and Marinette there was a new tie, a new bond with the real ones. They understood the pain and the pressures they were dealing with and no one had the right to try and pull them apart. They were made for each other, and they were a powerful team–just like herself and Malfoy.

‘You’re meant to be her best friend. Are you telling me you really don’t know?’ Cerise said again, her voice laced with a poison Hermione didn’t like.

‘I don’t know anything.’

Hermione huffed a laugh. He almost sounded believable.

A cackle sounded through the cracks in the door. ‘Oh, Luka. Stop trying to protect her, there’s no hope for her now. I know the truth. I know what she’s hiding and when Adrien finds out it’ll be over between them. Now wouldn’t that just be beneficial for the both of us? I get what I want, and finally you have no obstacles for what you want.’

‘And how do you know what I want?’

Luka’s voice rose a little, Draco hissing in a sharp breath. Luka couldn’t lose it. Not now when everything was there in the palm of his hands. He could drop them both in it, let this random person know their deepest darkest secrets.

‘It’s obvious…you want Marinette, you just think you can’t have her. But I’ll let you in on a secret…’

Hermione pushed her ear up to the doorway harder, Cerise’s voice disappearing as she lowered herself in volume. She stared into Draco’s eyes, hoping they could reveal he had a plan, an answer, but for once in his life he looked worried, almost scared. His throat worked, tensing his jawline as he mirrored her position, both pressed firmly into the wood.

Silence!

Can you hear anything? Draco mouthed, only for Hermione to shake her head. Nothing. Absolutely nothing was happening inside. Or at least, they couldn’t hear anything.

What should we do? She mouthed, Draco frowning as he glanced between her and the door.

Do you trust me?

Did she? Her heart thundered against her chest, this mattered. Whatever she was about to say and do mattered. Searching his eyes for any sign of mischief, she was content with what she saw. She nodded. Draco took her hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a soft, gentle kiss to her knuckles.

He dropped her hand and took a step back, motioning for her to move too. With a quick glance to the door one last time, Hermione stepped away. Moving deeper into the hallway and out of direct sight of the door. Quickly, he blew her a kiss before pounding on the door.

‘Luka?’ His voice was raised and clear, not a shout but forceful enough to be heard through the door. ‘Are you there? I need to talk to you.’

They watched. Each second counted by a joined heartbeat.

‘Luka?’ Draco asked again, knocking on the door a little louder this time. ‘I really need to talk to you.’

Hermione watched. Nothing was happening. No sound. No motion. Nothing.

Try again!

Draco knocked on the door, following her silent request. ‘Come on, dude. I really need to talk to you.’

Silence.

Draco gave her a quick shrug, moving his hand forward and grasping onto the handle.

‘I hope you’re fully dressed. I’m coming in.’

As Draco turned the handle, a variety of different images crossed her mind. What if they were doing more than talking? What if the discussion had gone sour and Luka was motionless on the floor? What if he was whispering her deep dark secrets?

But all that came into view was…

Nothing!

‘What? Where are they?’ Hermione moved to Draco's side, both entering the room and looking around. The window was open, the frayed curtains gently moving with each gust of wind. But the room was empty.

‘The only way out was the window. You don’t think they…’ Before Draco could finish, the whole house was overrun with the sound of shrill alarms.

An akuma.

‘Marinette!’

She heard her name being shouted from down the corridor. It must have been Alya.

‘Marinette!’ she shouted again, this time it was followed by the sounds of pounding footsteps down the corridor, the alarm sounding louder and travelling through her body like an icy chill from a Dementor.

‘Marinette,’ Alya said, swinging herself into the room–slightly out of breath and dishevelled. She opened her mouth to speak before stopping instantly. ‘Oh, Adrien, hi! I just…’ She glanced between the two of them again.

‘Alya? Can you turn that unwholly noise off…please.’

Alya looked at Draco, before turning her attention back to the phone. ‘I, er, yeah! Oh goodness! Yes, sorry!’ Finally getting into motion, Alya turned the alarm off before turning her attention back to Hermione again. ‘Would it be…can I just borrow Marinette for a second, please and thank you.’

Before waiting for any response for anyone in the room, Alya had grabbed her arm and began marching her down the corridor and into the kitchen, throwing her in and slamming the door.

‘You’ve got to get back to Paris.’ The command was forceful and left very little room to argue, however, that didn’t stop her.

‘Why?’ Hermione asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

‘Come on, Marinette! Seriously, I don’t know what’s wrong with you at the moment! You’re acting all weird the other night, you and Adrien seem to have some weird connection now, and you’re acting like an akuma alert doesn’t matter!’

So that’s what that noise was? She thought she’d heard it before but couldn’t quite remember how and why.

‘I just wanted a weekend to be my age, to have some fun,’ Hermione responded. The sudden need to defend Marinette was overwhelming. Everyone expected so much from her. They expected her to be a young adult at the same time as being more mature, saving the world and having a normal life. Marinette was holding so much back, and no one could understand. No one except Adrien that was, and she never knew.

Merlin, she hoped Adrien and Marinette had bumped into each other and now know the truth. This was too much to handle—far too much for someone so young. Yes, she’d been through a tough time herself, but she was never alone. She had those she trusted beside her, and knew there were many more standing, waiting behind. But what did Marinette have? A couple of friends she could talk to about these things, but the one person who knew, who understood, couldn’t know a thing. Well, that needed to change.

‘Excuse me.’ Hermione left the room with an air of arrogance, ignoring Alya’s calls after her. She needed to get to Draco and decide what they were going to do. Then they were going to get the real Adrien and Marinette back and force them to reveal—if they hadn’t already.

‘Marinette?’

Ignoring the calls, Hermione made her way back to Draco in Luka’s room. He was looking at Adrien’s phone, confusion coating his face as he tapped around on the screen.

‘What in the name of Dumbledore’s beard is Tikkity Tok?’

Hermione snorted, taking the phone from his hands and switching it off. ‘Tikkity Tok will have to wait. We need to go back to Paris again.’

A muffed sob came from Draco’s pocket, a sulking Plagg appearing. ‘I haven’t even had breakfast yet.’

‘You’ll have time later, Plagg. I promise.’ Draco held out his pinky finger, Plagg staring at it like an alien life form. ‘Come on!’ Draco whined. ‘Pinky promises are like a soul bond.’

‘Why would I want to bond with you?’ Plagg huffed, a playfully spark dancing in his eyes.

Draco rolled his eyes. ‘Stop acting like you hate me, when we all know you love me really.’

‘Pfft! You really think highly of yourself kid.’

A red blur shot forward, Tikki coming to join them all.

‘As wonderful as this all is. We need to get back to Paris,’ she said, scolding them all with her eyes.

‘Tikki’s right,’ Hermione agreed. ‘We can sort out your love fest later. But for now, we need to go. Tikki spots on!’

As the transformation took place, a loud gasp sounded from the doorway. Glancing over her shoulder, Rose stood as though she was looking at a ghost. There was no time to worry though, they could sort it out after, but right now, they needed to get to Paris.

‘Sorry Rose,’ Draco said, grabbing the girl by the arms. She was frozen. As stiff as if a Pertificus Totalus curse had been cast on her–rigid, unmoving. He lifted her and moved her effortlessly over to the cupboard, pushing her inside and slamming the door shut. Draco called Plagg into his ring and transformed behind a curtain of glistening green.

They were ready.

Taking their power ups, Hermione jumped out the window and set sail for the sky, Draco mere moments behind her. She began to create a plan in her head, slightly terrified for what they might find mixing with the sheer relief they were right. Cerise was definitely a bad guy's minion, or the bad guy herself, Hermione thinking the latter was more likely.

It didn’t take too long to get back. Both landing on the chosen rooftop to survey the scene and solidify the plan. But then Hermione spotted the akuma wrapping itself around the Eiffel Tower.

A snake.

A large, thick bodied snake.

Sharp fangs. Yellowing eyes.

‘Don’t look!’ Hermione screamed, stepping herself in front of Draco and placing a hand over his eyes.

‘Why?’ He didn’t move, his body trusting what she was doing to him.

‘It’s a basilisk.’

‘A basilisk? How?’

Hermione shook her head before realising Draco couldn’t see her. ‘I’m going to move my hand away. Promise me you will close your eyes.’

Without a beat he answered her. ‘Whatever you say, M’Lady.’

Cautiously, Hermione moved her hand, uncovering his eyes and trusting that he would follow her lead. He had. His eyes were scrunched up tightly with no way of letting even a sliver of light in.

‘Lucky charm!’ Calling her Lucky Charm, Hermione threw the Ladybug yo-yo into the air, allowing the item to fall down into her hands. Sleep masks.

‘How sharp do you think your senses are?’ Hermione asked, placing the red polka dotted mask over her own eyes.

‘Well, I am a cat, and they’re some of the best predators in the animal kingdom.’

She twirled the black and green mask between her hands, before slotting it over his head and placing it on top of the mask.

‘Open your eyes,’ she whispered. Biting her lower lip, she waited for him to speak.

‘It’s pitch black.’

‘Good! Now, untie your belt.’

Draco smirked. ‘If you wanted me to drop my trousers, you just had to ask.’

She smacked him on the arm before running a hand exasperatedly over her hair.

‘Here!’ Something hit her square in the chest, her hand shooting out to grab it. His belt. Wrapping it around her own wrist, she felt for his own and attached it.

‘You move,’ she said, tightening the leather. ‘I’ll follow. You’re in charge, Kitty.’

Hermione felt him take a deep breath before taking her hand and stepping forward. ‘Jump when I tell you to jump.’

They stepped forward, together, preparing to take the leap when everything faded around them.

The belt.

The masks.

The costumes.

The disguise.

They were no longer Ladybug and Chat Noir. They were no longer Adrien and Marinette. They were in their normal clothing, stranded on the rooftop of Paris.

‘The ring,’ Draco whispered, ‘it’s gone.’

Reaching up, she stroked over her now bare ears. ‘So, have my earrings.’

An obnoxious roar sounded over the city, the snake continuing its coil up the iron lady, only to squeeze tight and crush it, sending the debris flying to the ground.

‘What are we going to do?’ Hermione asked, turning slowly to look at a squinting Draco. He went to speak, but nothing came out. Instead, two sticks were thrust between them.

‘You’re going to help out,’ a voice said, pulling their attention to the newcomers behind them.

‘We hear you’re a dab hand at defeating great evil.’

Standing behind them were Ladybug and Chat Noir, the real Ladybug and Chat Noir, their wands in their hands. Slowly, she reached out, grabbing the familiar wand and settling from the weight of the object.

‘Tenebris,’ she said, shooting her wand into the sky, covering the sun and taking Paris into darkness.

She watched Draco mirror the action. ‘Meteolojinx.’ A thick fog descended over the room tops, making anything more than a foot away disappear in the thickness. The air crackled with tension as the fog continued to deepen. The sky above them was black, devoid of stars, swallowed by the magic they had unleashed.

Hermione adjusted her stance, feeling the weight of the responsibility settle over her. She was no longer just a student at Hogwarts. She was a protector, a fighter—and she would not back down.

‘Let's move,’ Ladybug said, her voice strong.

Draco, with a reluctant but resolute look, followed her lead. The four of them, united by necessity and the looming threat ahead, stepped into the mist.

And as they did, the distant sound of something far darker than just fog stirred in the shadows, waiting.

Chapter Text

Marinette

The thick fog had hidden their movements, allowing them to creep to the boulangerie without being noticed.

Travelling across the rooftops had been tricky, but thanks to Hermione and Draco’s lumos spell and Chat Noir’s enhanced vision, they made it quickly and unscathed.

Ladybug held the trapdoor open to her room, allowing the others to drop in first before falling in behind. They grouped, placing themselves on the lower area of her room. Draco and Hermione one side as Adrien dropped his transformation on the other.

Ladybug climbed down, slowly, standing beside Adrien and allowing her own transformation to fall.

Draco scoffed. ‘I see you’re wearing my Quidditch shirt.’ He raised an eyebrow, Marinette instantly blushing.

Marinette wrapped her arms protectively around herself. ‘It was one of the only things in the Room.’

‘You look good in it. Did we win the last match?’

Adrien nodded, wrapping an arm possessively around Marinette’s waist. Was he claiming his territory? ‘Thanks to me, you did. And I think this is the shirt I’d worn during the game.’

A chuckle sounded from behind them. ‘I love a good pissing match. Go on, say it…who’s got the biggest wand?’

‘Plagg,’ Tikki screeched, placing a hand over her counterpart’s mouth, muffling any words that were on the verge of spewing next. ‘Carry on. I’ll deal with him.’

Tikki grabbed Plagg and pulled him over to the desk and through the front into a drawer.

‘So…hi,’ Marinette said.

Hermione smiled, holding out a hand. ‘It’s nice to finally meet you.’

‘You too,’ Marinette agreed, taking Hermione’s hand and giving it a quick shake.

Draco interrupted, taking Hermione by the arm and pulling her back. ‘Okay, enough of the pleasantries, what the hell are we going to do about the Basilisk?’

‘Is that what that was?’ Adrien asked.

Draco tilted his head to one side. ‘Poor muggles, never seen a deadly snake before.’

Draco was coming across exactly as she’d heard through the grapevine at Hogwarts. Hermione smacked him hard in the arm, causing him to yelp.

‘Sorry about him. I’m still trying to house train him. He has a lot of underlying issues—mainly trust…and functioning like a human.’

‘Don’t we all.’ Adrien let out a small chortle before turning back to the girls. ‘So, what’s the plan, Bug?’

Marinette scrunched her lips and gazed around the room. She had no idea what to do next, or how to defeat this akuma. She squinted, moving from one place to the next before landing on Hermione.

‘I read a book about the Chamber of Secrets. You’ve battled this before. Or, at least, something like this.’

All eyes bore into Hermione. She shook her head and let out a small cough, almost like she was preparing to read a speech. ‘The Basilisk is deadly to all those who look into its eyes.’

‘So we blind it,’ Adrien said matter of factly.

‘That could work,’ Draco agreed. He actually looked impressed, if that’s what the small up turn of his lips and squint of his eyes meant.

‘Can we?’ Marinette asked, quite certain it wasn’t going to be as simple as just blinding it.

Hermione shrugged, something passing her eyes which looked a little like uncertainty. ‘It’s not a real basilisk. There’s someone in there, I don’t want to hurt them.’

‘The akuma victims are usually cured by the Miraculous Ladybugs, so we should be okay.’

Marinette watched as Hermione chewed on her bottom lip.

‘Do you know who the akuma is?’ Marinette watched for any deflection coming from the witch, instead, she just saw defeat.

Slowly, she nodded. ‘It’s Luka.’

Hand flying to her mouth, the air left her lungs in one big exhale. Marinette couldn’t believe it. How something so evil could come from someone so pure. Luka? Why the hell had Luka been akumatised? Was that what the conversation in the fireplace was all about?

‘But—how?’ she whispered. ‘Why would the new butterfly holder—’

‘Because Luka’s pain made him the perfect vessel,’ Hermione said, voice thick with urgency. ‘Basilisks are born from hatred and dark magic. She didn’t just akumatise him—she reshaped him. Gave him fangs and fury. And if we don’t stop him soon, this won’t just be another akuma attack. It’ll be a massacre.’

Marinette staggered back, grabbing the edge of a table. Sirens echoed faintly through the cracked window.

‘You said she, not he. Why?’

Hermione glanced at Draco, seemingly checking if it was okay to continue. He shrugged and stood up. Pacing the room like a caged animal.

‘We think we know who it is?’ Hermione responded, Draco stuttering his steps a little before continuing the rhythm.

‘Who?’ Adrien said, once again moving close enough to wrap an arm around her waist.

Draco sighed, heading towards the chaise in the corner of Marinette’s room, and sitting down. He ran a hand through his thick white hair, leaving it sticking up in a multitude of different ways.

‘Has Luka ever mentioned anyone called Cerise?’ he said, eyes flitting between herself and Adrien.

She shook her head. ‘No. Why?’

‘Luka had invited a new friend to the cabin. She met us there and straight away something just felt off.’

‘She seemed to have a weird obsession with us—I mean you,’ Hermione added, pointing towards the two of them.

‘I have to get to him,’ Marinette said, her voice trembling but firm. ‘There’s still a piece of him in there. I know there is.’

‘I believe you,’ Hermione said, stepping closer, her hand warm and solid on Marinette’s arm. ‘But you can’t look him in the eyes. Promise me. You’ll need mirrors, reflections—anything but direct contact. I can help enchant something, if you give me a few minutes.’

Marinette nodded. ‘And if I can get close enough… maybe I can reach him.’

Hermione hesitated. ‘You might be the only one who can.’

The ground shook beneath their feet, a sudden movement having them all reach for something to regain their balance.

‘I still feel like we’re missing something. Like there’s something we haven’t figured out yet. We’ve managed to get back, but you’re still here, so it’s not a straight swap like when we arrived.’ Adrien began to pace the room again, a hand ruffling through his hair.

Draco stood, going toe to toe with him. ‘How did you get back?’

‘We found a book in the Room of Requirement. It was quite the…educational experience,’ Adrien said.

Draco tilted his head to one side. ‘The Room or what you found in it?’

Marinette watched Adrien swallow, an adorable pink tinge staining his cheeks. ‘Both. Maybe?’

Draco snorted. ‘Good on you, mate! That room can be beneficial when you want it to be. I know I’ll be getting my money's worth out of it when we get home. What do you say, love?’ He turned and gave Hermione an over dramatic wink.

But to her adieu, she just rolled her eyes and grabbed her wand, twisting it between her fingers.

‘If you’re back,’ she suddenly said, something in her voice and in her face making Marinette sit a little straighter. Hermione was smart, there’s a chance she’s figured this out. ‘Whatever you were meant to accomplish has been fulfilled, whether that’s to do with your powers, your teamwork or maybe…’

She glanced between them. Marinette nodded, Hermione’s smile sorrowful and understanding.

‘We had some…issues to deal with,’ Marinette answered.

‘But we’ll be stronger for it.’ Adrien smiled at her, and the last of the unsettled feeling vanished. He was here and he was with her. This was their new beginning. Their second chance.

Second chance.

‘The cards,’ Marinette said, standing abruptly from where she’d sat. ‘Where are the cards?’

The room shook violently again, rattling everything from the picture frames on the walls to her toiletries beside her sink.

‘There in my room…I mean…his room.’

Another quake struck, harder this time, rattling the walls of the apartment. A framed picture of Marinette and her parents fell with a shatter onto the floor, glass splintering. Above them, the rafters groaned.

Adrien grabbed her arm. ‘We need to go. Now.’

He called on his transformation, Marinette becoming Ladybug mere moments after.

She grabbed her yo-yo, preparing for their next move. Hermione stuffed her wand into her coat, while Draco muttered a shielding charm as another tremor rocked them sideways.

But Hermione grabbed her arm before she could make her next move. She was still thinking. ‘Second chances,’ she said aloud, voice almost lost under the rumble. ‘That’s what this magic is anchored to.’

Ladybug blinked. ‘What do you mean?’

Hermione turned to face them. ‘When the akuma attack brought Draco and me here, it wasn’t random. It used a magical fault line between dimensions—and the cards, I think, were a kind of magical currency. Intent-based anchors. They represented choices, or regrets. Things unresolved.’

Draco made a face. ‘You’re saying the cards were, what—emotional horcruxes?’

‘More like… enchanted reflections of what we needed to face,’ she said, then looked between Chat Noir and Ladybug. ‘You were swapped with us because, in some way, our stories mirrored yours. Same struggles. Same fractures. Only different worlds.’

Ladybug’s breath caught. ‘So if the cards brought you here…’

‘They could send us back,’ Hermione finished. ‘But they’d need to complete their cycle. Luka. He’s the missing piece. The final card. The magic that turned him into a basilisk is woven with the same energy that brought us here.’

Chat Noir’s eyes widened. ‘So if we purify Luka…’

‘That should sever the last tether between our worlds,’ Hermione said softly. ‘The cards will lose their charge, and Draco and I will go back to Hogwarts. Where we belong.’

A low hiss carried on the wind, bone-deep and shivering. Luka was getting closer.

‘We need to get to the cards,’ Ladybug said. ‘Now.’

Draco glanced toward the shaking ceiling. ‘Then let’s get out of the bleeding attic before we all collapse with the building.’

Without another moment's hesitation, they climbed back up on Mariette’s balcony and into the thick fog surrounding them. The sounds of chaos rang through the streets of Paris. Screaming and shouting, in chorus with sounds of those in pain. It was too much! To horrible to hear, and too distracting to what they needed to do.

‘You okay, M’Lady?’

Ladybug turned, her eyes meeting Chat Noir’s panicked expression. Was she okay? She had no idea. These past days had been a whirlwind of feelings and understandings, and truth be told she was exhausted. She opened her mouth, ready to tell Chat she was fine, when she stopped.

No more lies, Marinette!

‘No,’ she said quietly, head gaze moving to the floor. ‘No, I’m not. I don’t think any of us are.’ Her eyes rose from the floor to his face, taking in the mature boy he was now. No longer the teen trying to find his way, but a man who was wonderful, kind and caring. The man who would do anything to make sure she is okay and looked after.

‘But I will be. We will be.’

One side of his lips quirked into a smile and her heart almost gave way.

‘Together,’ he said, holding a fist out to her.

‘Together,’ she echoed, bumping her own against his. They called Draco and Hermione over, taking them both on their backs before setting sail towards the Agreste Mansion, and hopefully to the end of this nightmare.

The four of them crashed through Adrien’s balcony doors moments later, ducking low as a gust of wind threw debris past the windows. They moved without conversation, Draco heading off to find the cards as Marinette and Adrien dropped their transformations and found food for their kwamis.

They remained in silence. Waiting for Draco to return.

‘Here,’ he said, placing them down on the coffee table in front of the sofa. They all moved around. Dropping to their knees to study the cards.

Each one was emitting a subtle blue glow. Fading in and out as though it was alive.

The backs of the cards held intricate patterns Marinette hadn’t noticed the first time. Cats, bugs, lions—

‘There—see? That one. The one with the silver serpent coiled around a cracked heart.’ Hermione pointed to a card in the centre of the group. This one pulsing a little more brightly than the others.

Draco moved closer and peered over her shoulder. ‘Subtle.’

Marinette picked it up. It was warm—too warm.

Adrien stood, moving over towards Marinette and crouching down behind her, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. ‘It’s him, isn’t it? That’s Luka.’

‘He made a decision he’s obviously struggling with.’

Hermione nodded. ‘We’ll need to use the card as a focus. The akuma magic is anchored to it—if we can draw it out while Ladybug purifies him, I can bind the energy and force it to collapse the rift.’

‘But you’ll be pulled with it,’ Marinette said, heart clenching.

Hermione met her gaze—gentle, but resolute. ‘That was always the way home.’

Outside, the roar of the basilisk shook the glass.

They’re out of time.

Chapter Text

Draco

‘So how are we doing this?’ Draco stood, securing his wand in his hand. He felt powerful, an unexpected side effect to being on the winning team for a change.

‘We’ll be the distraction,’ Adrien said, beckoning Plagg over.

Draco nodded. ‘And the defense?’

He stretched a hand out to Adrien. This guy had grown on him, and though if he’d met him a couple of years ago it would have been a personal vendetta to bully this guy for his posh upbringing and sunshine personality, spending time in his shoes showed exactly what can happen if you stop the darkness from overpowering you.

All Draco’s life he’d been basking in the shadows, allowing the darkness to turn him bitter and angry like his father. He never knew he had another choice, he never felt like he had another choice. But being here, being Adrien and finding out all the depths of the betrayal and harm this guy had faced really put his own pathetic arguments into perspective. He shouldn’t have turned evil. He shouldn’t have cared what his father thought. Right and wrong were something he knew, yet he still made the wrong decision to please someone who really didn’t give a shit about him.

Adrien’s hand joined his, and with a quick pull Draco had taken him into a hug. He wasn’t a huggy guy, he wasn’t really a touchy, feely guy, but he’d connected with Adrien in ways he never knew possible.

A hand slammed on his back a couple of times, and Draco knew the feeling was mutual. He squeezed his eyes together, fighting to keep his emotions at bay. Malfoy’s didn’t cry…but he did! He was a Malfoy by name and name only.

He moved back wiping a hand under his eyes, brushing back tears he never thought he’d cry, not in front of people anyway. He hadn’t felt like this since that fateful year when he was groomed to be a murderer, when he stood face to face with himself in the bathroom and broke down. That was the turning point, one he should have embraced more.

‘You know what Kid?’ Plagg had flown over, holding himself hovering just in front of his face. ‘You never were a snake. Your heart is fierce. It’s loyal and it’s brave. Crying isn’t weakness, it’s admitting an emotion, and right now I can see everything pouring out of you.’

Plagg flew closer, snuggling himself against Draco’s cheek. ‘It’s easy to deny, it’s braver to admit. Good luck, Kid. You’ve got this!’

Hermione moved closer, smiling up at him, her own eyes dazzling in the faint glow of the cards. ‘I’m so proud of you.’

She wrapped her arms around his neck, his head burying into her shoulder and using her strength to recharge his. He was a lion. He would protect his own. And she was his! Paris or Hogwarts, she was his.

‘Are we ready?’ Ladybug said, a slight sniff as she spoke. The sound of crashing outside the window alerted them all to what they were needing to do.

‘Yep,’ Adrien said, wiping under his own eyes. ‘Yep, we’re all good.’ He called on his transformation, coating himself in the supersuit once more.

‘We’ll go out first,’ Draco announced, turning to face Hermione. ‘Give us some time to distract the Basilisk and then attack.’

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and pointed his wand in the air. If he was going out there, he couldn’t be on the ground, that wasn’t going to help anyone. ‘Accio Nocturne Tempest.’

Within seconds, a dark ashwood broom landed in the room. Veins of silver pulsing as it moved. It landed in Draco’ hand.

‘That’s not the one Adrien used,’ Ladybug said, examining the new object in the room.

‘Vincet umbra qui in tenebris stat,’ Hermione read as she glanced at the writing scribed into the wood along the side.

‘He shall conquer the shadow who stands within it.’ Adrien’s smile was sad, yet telling.

‘You know Latin?’ Draco asked him.

Adrien nodded. ‘Yeah. I do.’

The ground shook, the cards glowing more intensely than before.

‘You better be going,’ Marinette said, calling her transformation and walking to the window. They joined her, watching as debris flew around outside the window, crashing to the ground and destroying anything in its way.

Draco watched as herself and Adrien placed earpieces from their weapons into their ear.

‘Give us a chance to cause a distraction, before you both come out.’ Draco took his broomstick and walked to the window, waving his wand over himself and changing his normal, day to day outfit into a black cape and a mask—not too dissimilar to that of a Death Eater.

‘We’ll lead him over to the Louvre, it’ll give us more space.’ Chat Noir went to leave, before turning back and heading to his partner.

He held her face so gently, so loving, Draco couldn’t help but glimpse at Hermione. Everything had been so hot and urgent with her, he couldn’t help but wonder if she wanted this too. She was staring at the two heroes, cheeks dusted pink and a far off look in her eyes.

As Chat Noir gave his love bug a farewell kiss, Draco headed over to Hermione, his hand stretching up to run through the stray strands of her hair. She reached up and lifted the mask from his face, a gentle smile causing her eyes to sparkle.

‘I never thought I’d like to see you in all this again, let alone have a little thrill from it.’

He laughed, taking her hands with his. ‘You’ve got a hidden dark side, Golden Girl. Whatever would anyone think?’

‘That they were finally seeing the real me.’

She stretched on her toes, looping an arm around his neck and pulling his face level with hers. She kissed him, slow and deliberate. His eyes closed, mind remembering every feel, every sound, every taste. This was his time for redemption, time to finally show that he was the hero in his story, not a villain.

‘Be safe.’ Her whispered voice was expressed with pain in her eyes. This was as scary for her as it was for him.

He pulled the mask back down over his face. ‘Of course I will be, I have a date with a beautiful girl this weekend. I’m thinking of Butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks and a romantic train ride to and from Hogsmeade.’

Hermione smiled, giving his hand a little squeeze. ‘Sounds perfect.’

‘See you out there.’ Draco made his way to Chat Noir at the window, both giving the girls a quick look back before leaving the safety and comfort of Adrien’s bedroom.

They headed off in the direction of the Louvre. Chat springing from rooftop to rooftop on his hands and feet, Draco flying behind, one hand tightly clenched on his wand.

A roar in the distance had them both slowing to a stop, glancing around to try and pinpoint the position of the sound. The roar echoed again, over towards the right. He turned to Chat, both nodding in agreement. Moving again, they took a scenic route searching the area where they heard the basilisk’s cries, only to hit a wall of purple.

The mist which had been coating the rooftops, faded, leaving an unobstructed view of the city of Paris. Of the destruction and the chaos.

The sky, bright during a usual spring day, dulled to a purple hue. Dark and ominous. Purple currents of electricity shot erratically across the sky, a moon appearing like Midnight Violet stole the show in the sky.

‘Obscura Phantasmatis,’ Draco muttered, flicking his wand in a sharp arc. At once, the purple moonlight bent unnaturally around them, their bodies fading into flickers of rooftop shadow.

As quiet as possible, Draco landed, Chat Noir appearing seconds later by his side. He placed a finger to his lips.

‘Aguamenti.’ A jet of water shot out from Draco’s wand, coating the rooftop in a reflective surface.

A streak of purple lightning shoots upwards, lighting up the sky and everything around them. They remained still, Draco certain his charm would work. He was a skilled student trained by some of the best with a natural talent. This had to be strong enough.

The sky above continued to churn with unnatural colour — a deep, bruised purple, like the world was holding back a scream. Lightning lanced upward in jagged bursts, raw arcs of violet fire snapping into the clouds instead of falling from them. Each strike cast brief, stuttering shadows over the rooftop, where the air pulsed with electricity and something older… darker.

Chat Noir and Draco crouched beneath the shimmer of an invisibility charm, huddled close.

Then the breathing came.

Shhhhhkt… hrrrhhhh…

A rasp, like a thousand dry leaves being dragged across stone. The inhale was ancient, parched, but deep, impossibly deep, like lungs that stretched far past the ribs. The exhale vibrated the puddles at their feet, the tiny ripples betraying the presence that hadn’t yet revealed itself fully.

A second later, it arrived.

The basilisk coiled down onto the rooftop like smoke turned solid. Silent in movement, yet impossibly loud in presence. Its scales shimmered with dark oil-slick hues, absorbing the purple lightning like ink drinks water. No thud, no stomp. Just the low scrape of talons and the barely audible creak of tiles shifting under its impossible weight.

Its breath came again, louder now, more insistent.

Shhhhhhkt… hrrrrhhhhh…

Draco’s hand brushed Chat’s, trembling ever so slightly. Chat Noir’s eyes flicked to the puddle in front of them. The basilisk’s reflection swam into view. The jagged, monstrous, crowned with bony ridges that pulsed with each breath. Its forked tongue flicked, tasting the air.

Then the water.

It stopped.

The tongue darted again. A low, questioning growl hummed through the rooftop, so deep Draco felt it in his spine more than heard it. The creature’s head turned slowly. It’s deadly gaze sweeping the puddled tiles, stopping just short of their hiding place.

A single bolt of purple lightning split the sky above and for a heartbeat, the rooftop flashed white and violet.

Then silence.

Even the wind held its breath.

The air pressed down, heavy with ozone and the scent of magic burned raw. The basilisk loomed at the edge of the puddles, coils tightening, tongue flicking faster now. Its ancient body was still, but its senses were alive. Searching, testing.

Then the air rippled.

No sound. No footstep.

Just a shift, like reality had briefly flinched.

From the purple-scarred sky above, a figure descended unnaturally, as though gravity obeyed her only out of respect.

Cerise touched the rooftop with the grace of a falling petal, her feet never quite seeming to commit to the surface. Her cloak, more wings than fabric, flowed around her, rippling with soft violet and deep obsidian hues. A swarm of butterflies, unnatural in colour and movement, trailed in her wake like whispers, hovering at her shoulders. Their wings hummed like barely restrained spells.

Draco tensed beside Chat Noir. Neither breathed.

Cerise tilted her head, eyes glowing faintly beneath a veil of shadow. She raised one hand, long fingers ending in dark, lacquered claws, and placed it gently on the basilisk’s crown. It didn’t flinch. Instead, it lowered its head, coils relaxing, as if in worship.

Cerise; Lamia, the new butterfly holder, smiled.

It was slow. Patient. Poison in motion.

‘I can smell the spellwork,’ she murmured, voice like silk through teeth. ‘The clever little charm… and water. How quaint.’

The butterflies scattered briefly, circling out in an elegant, precise spiral. A few skimmed the surface of the puddles. One landed just inches from where Chat Noir crouched, its wings pulsing with unnatural light.

She turned, eyes narrowing, locking on empty space. Directly on them.

‘Found you.’

Lightning screamed skyward.

The charm shattered.

And the rooftop erupted.

Chapter Text

Marinette

Ladybug paced Adrien’s bedroom as the sky changed from thick fog to an unnatural colour. She was here, the holder of the Butterfly Miraculous had arrived and they weren’t out there fighting.

‘Are you thinking what I’m thinking?’ Hermione asked, stepping in front of Ladybug and halting her in her tracks.

She studied Hermione’s face, the determination and worry etching into the most unusual display of emotions. A loud strike was heard, vibrating around the rooftops and adding to the intense streaks of purple shooting abnormally into the air.

‘How long has it been?’ Ladybug asked, unhooking her yo-yo and opening it. She set her tracker on Chat, noticing it was at a stand still not too far away from the Louvre.

Hermione came closer, glancing over her shoulder. ‘Too long.’

The blue light from the table increased in intensity, the colour pulsating quicker, almost like a heartbeat picking up in speed. Was it nervous? Or was it preparing to attack?

Ladybug studied Hermione. How was she going to get up onto the rooftops without anything? Closing the yo-yo, she threw it high in the air, calling out for her lucky charm. The little ladybugs swirled around the area, Ladybug’s yo-yo falling into her hands before the magic could finish working.

They moved around Hermione, covering her body and leaving her with something on her back. A pair of ladybug wings.

Hermione twisted sharply, eyes flicking over her shoulder as translucent wings flared to life, beating fast with a shimmer of light.

‘Are you ready?’ Ladybug asked, the sky beyond flashing with jagged purple lightning that clawed its way into the clouds.

Hermione’s fingers clenched around her wand. Her breath was quick, focused. ‘No time not to be.’

They jumped.

Wind tore past them as they shot into the air, wings straining against the storm, yo-yo snagging on any possible chimney . The battlefield below was chaos—people screaming, buildings cracked open like eggshells. Purple bolts screamed upward, exploding through the air around them, each one too close.

‘Down there!’ Ladybug shouted, banking hard.

They dove, fast, slicing through smoke and magic, the mission unravelling beneath them, second by second.

The basilisk crashed onto the roof in a fury, his scales streaked with glowing grief.

‘What shall we do?’ Ladybug yelled across to Hermione.

‘We need to cover our eyes, or we need to blind him.’

She didn’t want to blind Luka. That wasn’t an option. Regardless of akuma or not, she wouldn’t risk hurting one of her closest friends. Opening her yo-yo, she rummaged inside, pulling out two strips of fabric. Strips left over from her spring dress.

‘Tie this around your eyes.’ She passed one to Hermione just as the sky over Paris tore open.

Purple lightning clawed upward through the clouds, illuminating the twisted shape of the basilisk as it coiled over the shattered rooftop.

Then it stilled.

From above, the first shadow appeared. Not cast by light, but by presence. A spiral of black butterflies formed in the air, orbiting something unseen. The wind pulled inward, spiralling, and the temperature dropped.

She descended.

‘Lamia,’ Hermione whispered, Ladybug glancing over at her. ‘We think that’s Cerise.’

‘Lila!’ Ladybug said through gritted teeth. She turned her attention back to the rooftop and the scene playing in front of them.

Lamia continued onto the rooftop. She didn’t fall though. She glided. Suspended like a phantom between the broken clouds.

Her silhouette struck like a dagger through the skyline: sleek, predatory, and impossibly graceful. Her bodysuit, deep violet-black, shimmered with the oily sheen of a serpent’s scales, hugging her frame like a living shadow. Faint webbing of silver traced across her arms like cracks in obsidian.

Tattered, semi-translucent wings spread behind her — not delicate like a butterfly’s, but sharp, gnarled, alive. They rippled without wind, bearing pulsing patterns of molten violet that flickered like veins.

One asymmetrical cloak draped from her left shoulder — jagged, storm-tossed, stitched with a haunting, refracted version of butterfly wings. It whispered behind her as she moved, trailing black mist that kissed the fractured glass beneath her boots.

Her face was half-hidden beneath a jagged mask, shaped like cracked butterfly wings, the edges glowing faintly. Her eyes were twin amethysts — pupil-less, shifting, unreadable. She looked across the rooftop like a conqueror… but like a judge, already passing sentences.

The Miraculous brooch embedded at her collarbone pulsed — a corrupted butterfly symbol overlaying a serpent’s spiral. With each beat, butterflies peeled off her form and fluttered into the air — whispering, watching, spreading illusion like spores.

When she spoke, her voice carried the hush of a distant thunderclap, echoing just behind her words.

‘I can smell the spellwork,’ she murmured, voice like silk through teeth as it lifted from the rooftop. ‘The clever little charm… and water. How quaint.’

The butterflies scattered briefly, circling out in an elegant, precise spiral. A few skimmed the surface of the puddles. One landed just inches from where Ladybug guessed the guys were hidden. Unnatural light shone from the butterflies wings.

‘Found you.’

Without waiting another moment, Ladybug and Hermione dropped down. Draco called off the charm Ladybug passed the fabric scraps to the boys, watching as everyone tied the fabric around their eyes, but leaving her own bare.

‘Keep this on,’ she shouted, fear pulsing through her as she heard Lamia talking to the beast.

‘She’s becoming the Miraculous,’ Ladybug whispered, unhooking her yo-yo and sending it sailing into the sky.

‘We need to split Luka from the magic—fast!’ Chat Noir said, gripping his baton tightly between his two hands.

‘Lucky Charm!’

An object appeared above her, dropping down into her hands.

She stared at the monster, heart pounding, fingers curled tightly around her Lucky Charm — a cracked compact mirror. Confusion cut across her face. ‘A mirror? That’s it?!’

Hermione’s voice cut in like a lightning strike. ‘It’s a trap. We reflect his senses, his thoughts. We blind and confuse him — just long enough to get through to Luka!’

That made sense, she knew it did. Taking a deep breath, she threw the compact into the air.

It exploded. Red light spiralled outward, touching every surface of Paris. Streets twisted. Rooftops bent. Giant mirrored walls erupted from the ground like ancient, gleaming monoliths. The city folded in on itself — a labyrinth of light, silver, and illusion.

A Mirror Maze was born.

The basilisk howled, striking at the shifting panels. Each hit landed only on his reflection. Hundreds of Lukas — twisted, monstrous, human — stared back at him. His rage echoed in every corner, deafening and directionless.

Chat Noir sprinted along the edge of a high glass panel. ‘I’ll distract him! Bugaboo, find the real one!’

Ladybug dove into the maze.

‘Luka!’ she called, voice shaking. ‘I know you’re in there!’

The mirrors answered with a chorus of snarls.

Then, a shadow descended.

Butterflies fluttered in black spirals. The air shimmered violet.

Lamia appeared at the maze’s center — her wings folded like blades, her gaze calm and cold.

‘You’re wasting your breath,’ she said, floating just above the mirror’s surface. ‘Luka belongs to me now. Another casualty of your lies and deceit, Marinette.’

She felt everything inside her tremble. She knew. Lila knew who she was. What she’d done.

‘I bet your little sidekick doesn’t know half of your deceit.’

‘I know it all,’ Chat said, stepping forward with intent. ‘I’ve seen it! We’re stronger now than we’ve ever been.’

‘All of us are,’ Draco said, moving forward and preparing his wand.

He cast his spell, a whip of white-hot light lashing out. Lamia deflected it mid-air with a flick of her fingers, sending him skidding back against a wall of glass. The mirror cracked.

Hermione rushed to his side. ‘We’ve got her. Just hold the maze!’

Ladybug started running. Mirrors blurred past. She saw flashes of Luka’s real face. His eyes, his smile. Memories. Echoes. Ghosts.

Finally, she landed in front of one still panel. It didn’t reflect her.

It reflected him. Human. Alone. Holding his guitar.

She pressed her palm to it. ‘You don’t have to fight me. Just listen.’

The basilisk slammed into the glass behind her, shattering three panels. Hermione threw a binding charm. Draco shouted a stunning curse. Chat Noir dove in, spinning his baton, shouting, ‘Don’t stop talking to him!’

Ladybug’s voice trembled.

‘You’re music, Luka. You’re calm. You’re kind. This thing? It’s not you.’

A pause.

The basilisk reeled. Its body twisted unnaturally, the monster’s skin rippling.

Inside the glass, Luka raised his head.

Lamia screamed from above, butterflies diving in waves. ‘NO!’

Chat Noir jumped, smashing his baton into the air above Ladybug. ‘Not today!’ He stretched out, snagging the snake miraculous and tucking it safely into his pocket.

Ladybug grabbed her yo-yo and flung it. It cracked into the compact high above.

BOOM.

The charm’s light exploded across the maze. The mirrors shattered, a cascade of glass and glowing magic swallowing the monster whole.

The basilisk howled, and then…collapsed.

Luka hit the ground, coughing, eyes wide and terrified, human once more.

The black Akuma fluttered upward.

Ladybug caught it with trembling fingers. ‘No more evil-doing for you, little Akuma. Miraculous Ladybug!’

Light erupted over Paris. The city was restored, the sky, the stillness.

Lamia hissed, her wings melting into smoke, butterflies disbanding as she vanished with a whisper of defeat. Gone. The question: For how long?

And worst of all, she knew. Cerise—Lila—knew Ladybug’s identity. 

The swirl of red continued its journey around Paris, finally sweeping around the four heroes and leaving them back in their own body, with their own partner. 

Draco helped Hermione up. Chat Noir landed beside Ladybug.

Luka looked at them all, voice raw.

‘…I heard you. I heard everything. I’m so sorry, Ladybug. I don’t…she manipulated me so convincingly, I don’t understand why I didn’t see it! I suppose when it comes to you…things are different. I just wanted to protect you.’

Ladybug stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘It’s okay. You’re not the first and you won’t be the last. Only myself, Adrien and these two ever saw past her lies and deceit. She plays on weaknesses, and she found yours too easily.’

‘You,’ Luka said, an apologetic look at Chat Noir.

Ladybug gave him a small soft smile, arms opening out and accepting him into a hug. ‘This is my fault Luka, I haven’t been the friend you needed since we broke up.’

‘It’s been two years. I should be over it by now.’

‘She’s a hard one to get over.’ Chat Noir stepped forward, wrapping his arms around them both.

‘I’m sorry,’ Ladybug whispered.

‘Me too,’ added Chat Noir, but Luka shook his head.

‘Neither of you have anything to apologise for. It’s me who has.’

‘To be honest,’ Draco butted in. ‘I think the bitch with the insect complex is the one with the real issues here.’ Draco stretched an arm out in Luka’s direction. ‘Draco Malfoy. Nice to meet you. You might know me as Adrien though, as that’s who I’ve been for the past few days.’

Luka glanced between them all before running a hand through his hair. ‘I feel there’s a lot to catch up on here.’

Ladybug smiled at Chat Noir, his eyes dazzling back at her. ‘Too much.’

She wrapped an arm around her partner's waist. His lips naturally searched her out and kissed her on the top of the head.

‘Everyone, come and look at this.’ Hermione held something between her hands. Blue and silver objects swirling around on the back of the card. The snake morphing and changing in front of their eyes. It continued to move, leaving a trail in its wake. It glowed unnaturally, but where before it was cold and unnerving, this had some warmth to it. A positive, hopeful energy.

The blue began to warm, moving into a deep luxurious purple, before continuing into a deep red.

Chat Noir’s ring began to beep, sharp, insistent. The Miraculous pulsed wildly, the familiar green glow flashing in erratic bursts.

Chat stared at it, frowning. ‘What the—? It hasn’t done this in two years…’

Before he could finish, Plagg shot from the ring, tail whipping like a streak of smoke. He zipped past Chat and darted straight to Malfoy, yanking up his hand with sudden force.

The signet ring on Malfoy’s finger, marked with a dark ‘M’, began to crack. A low hum pulsed from it, the emblem distorting, warping, as if rejecting its shape.

Plagg’s usual snark was replaced with urgency.

‘I don’t want to sound like a party popper,’ he said quickly, voice sharp, ‘but unless these two get back to their world now, we’re about to trigger a universal paradox, and I am not sticking around to find out what that looks like.’

Marinette dropped her transformation, heading towards Hermione and wrapping her in a tight hug. She felt her eyes burn. An unexplainable feeling for knowing they were at the end.

‘Thank you,’ Hermione said, eyes flicking from Marinette to Adrien, her voice softer than the chaos that had surrounded them moments ago. ‘For showing me what I’m worth… beyond what I thought I was.’

Marinette nodded, tears threatening but never falling. ‘You helped me see love isn’t about perfection. It’s about honesty.’

Draco smirked faintly, his usual arrogance cracked open just enough. ‘Guess you’re not all bad, Dupain-Cheng.’

Adrien laughed. ‘And you’re not all snark and shadows, Malfoy. Who knew?’

They exchanged a friendly handshake, before swapping places with the girls. The ring on Draco’s finger started to pulse with a green glow, and Marinette was sure she knew what that meant.

‘Remember,’ Adrien said to Draco, ‘you’re more than what people think you are, than your father groomed you to be.’

Draco nodded. ‘I feel the same can be said for you. You’re strong, Adrien, and your kindness through such darkness has really…inspired me to be better.’

Adrien smiled and looked at Marinette, her heart fluttering from the warmth in his eyes. ‘You just need the right partner.’

‘There’s something we always do. A signal of a win.’ Ladybug held her fist out, Chat Noir giving her a bright smile as he placed his next to hers. Slowly, Hermione and Draco joined them, Ladybug calling the official ‘Pound it’ to the success of this mission.

Luka stepped forward towards Hermione, holding a hand out for the shimmering card. ‘May I?’

He took the card from her hand, studied it for a beat, twisting it between his fingers like a final note of a song he couldn’t quite finish.

And then…

He let it go.

The card sailed up into the sky, spinning. As it climbed, the clouds absorbed it… and the sky shifted. From purple chaos to a soft, hopeful pink.

Like dawn breaking after the longest night.

Draco wrapped Hermione in his arms. She held him back just as tightly, forehead pressed to his chest.

Adrien pulled Marinette close, their foreheads touching—a silent promise passed between them without words.

And then —

Everything turned to black.

Chapter Text

Hermione

The sun broke through the curtains around the bed, a soft yellow glow creating shadows on her red bed sheets. Hermione stretched, a yawn leaving her lips, yet her eyes remained closed.

The bed seemed softer than what she’d been sleeping on in Marinette’s room. It almost felt as though she was back in Hogwarts.

Hogwarts!

Opening her eyes, she glanced around. The red curtains, the lion crest on her sheets. Home. She was finally home.

‘We did it,’ she whispered. ‘We actually did it. Malfoy…Draco?’

She sat up in her bed, the sheets dropping down to pool around her waist. She was alone. In her bed that was at Hogwarts not at a wooden cabin or in Marinette’s room. It felt strange not having Draco beside her. She’d become accustomed to his size and warmth wrapping around her like a soft, fluffy blanket. The comfort and the safety of a person there to protect and serve, someone she needed to find.

Swinging her legs out of the bed, she tumbled on the rug and crashed into the bed opposite. Luckily, it was empty, if not she had no idea how she would explain her sudden rush to get out of the bedroom. Carefully, she moved to the window and pulled back the curtain. The sun was just rising. She had time before the corridors would be full and people would start asking questions.

Hopping around, she found her slippers and placed them on one at a time, grabbing her wand and stumbling into the wardrobe.

‘Hermione?’ A sleepy voice asked. Shit!

‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m just going to the toilet.’

‘Can you try and do it a little quieter please?’

She apologised once more before heading to the staircase. Stumbling a little she made her way down and into the common room. The fire was on its last embers, emitting a soft orange glow around the room. She knew she shouldn’t be doing this. That running out into the corridors at this time of night was an automatic detention, but she needed to see him, she needed to find him and check that this was real, because she so wanted it to be real. She needed it to be real.

‘Lumos,’ she whispered.

The end of her wand glowing with a faint light, helping her to navigate towards the Entrance Hall, and eventually the Slytherin Common Room. She had no idea how she was going to get in but she was sure going to try.

Portraits hissed as she continued to move down the corridors towards the staircases, each grumpy wizard cursing her and telling her to put the wand away. But she kept on moving. She had to find Draco.

Her feet pounded against the cobblestones as she picked up speed in the direction of the stairs, finally reaching them with a pounding heart and harsh breaths. They seemed to be moving extra slowly tonight, the anxiety of the wait causing a sliver of doubt to break through. Would he want to see her? She believed everything that had happened was the truth, that he was feeling for her the same way she was feeling for him. But what if she’d been wrong? What if she’d completely misjudged the situation?

It was too late now though.

The staircase came to a halt in front of her, calling her to step on to go and find him, to see if that flutter in her heart was real, if he felt the same and didn’t just see her as a conquest. She stepped on, holding the banister tightly as it shifted and changed direction. Cautiously, she moved down, keeping her wand aloft as she crossed from one to the other. The one which would take her into the Entrance Hall.

This one moved even slower. A painful pound in her heart as she waited for it to arrive in the correct destination. Then it did. The noise of the staircase settling echoed through the empty hall and she began to make her way down it. Her throat clogged and hands trembling. Then she saw it, hidden behind a mask.

Draco

Draco woke up with a start. He gasped for air and reached around hoping to find Hermione, to pull her into him and settle himself in the reality she gave him. She’s grounded him, she’d made him better, she’d made him want to be better. Yet, she wasn’t with him, wasn’t here.

‘The basilisk,’ he muttered, frantically. ‘The snake. Where is it? Where is she?’

‘Woah, Kid, slow down.’

A black blur moved around in front of him, circling closer and closer, until it stopped right in front of Draco’s face. He screamed. Loud!

‘Draco! Shut up!’ Draco recognised the voice of Theo and sighed, calming his nerves. He was back in Hogwarts. Plagg wasn’t here, because Plagg was in Paris with Adrien. A black blur moved again. This was just a figment of his imagination. Just a…

‘You could at least give me a hug!’

Draco screamed again, this time falling off the bed into a tangled heap on the floor.

’Draco! I’m warning you…shut the f—’

‘Sorry,’ Draco said again. ‘I’m just going.’

Moving up the staircase and into the common room, he began to pace. Plagg was not here. He was just hearing things. A lingering effect of the magic. There was always one, and he had come in the form of the small Gremlin who tormented him with smelly cheese.

‘What in the ever loving Gringotts is going on? Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be with Adrien?’

Plagg swooped around, smiling like this was normal. ‘Look at your ring, kid. You’ve earned your wings…well, whiskers.’

Draco continued to study the kwami. Unsure if this was a dream or reality.

Plagg’s voice softened. ‘Just look, Draco.’

Hands trembling, he lifted his hand up in front of his face. His family’s signet ring, no longer encrusted with the M, but instead held another engraving. The faint engraving of a feline.

‘You showed your true colours and broke the curse placed by your family to stop the cat Miraculous ever being used again. You brought us back, kid!’

‘But—but what about Adrien?’

‘Different universe, different kwami.’

‘Same epic powers?’

Plagg smirked. ‘Why don’t you give it a try?’

Looking around, Draco was glad to see the common room was empty. ‘Here goes nothing. Plagg, claws out.’

As Plagg was pulled into the ring, Draco felt that familiar surge of power and strength he’d grown used to as Chat Noir. His body changed and morphed. The suit wrapped around him like a second skin of black, green and silver. His steel toed boots were strong and solid, the cape coming from his shoulders flowed freely behind him and his mask turned up to create cat-like ears.

He moved to the window, the darkness of the lake reflecting his image back. He looked good—really good. He needed to find Hermione. If he’d earned the cat, could she have earned the earrings.

Excitement vibrated with every step he took. He needed to see her. She needed to see this.

Without waiting another second, Draco was out of the common room and heading in the direction of the Entrance Hall. It was still too early in the morning for others to be up, and he couldn’t stop the anxious feeling that she might have woken up with the need to find him too.

Everything inside him was begging that she was still feeling whatever this was between them, that she hadn’t arrived back at Hogwarts and decided that this wasn’t for her, that he wasn’t for her. His pace slowed down, his sprint becoming a steady walk. Was he being an idiot doing this? Running around Hogwarts after the Golden Girl, dressed as a giant cat? It really was a stupid idea.

Reaching the Entrance Hall, the noise of moving stone caught his attention. The staircase was rotating which must mean someone was on it. Swiftly, he moved behind a pillar, observing who was about to arrive. His heart pounded as he waited, every second feeling like an eternity, until it stopped.

Everything stopped.

And there she was.

The girl of his dreams, looking all bedraggled and confused as she moved from the staircase onto the floor. She was scanning the area, and he could see the nervous twitches in her body, ones he never would have noticed a couple of weeks ago.

He stepped from behind the post, her eyes landing on him and observing cautiously. She gasped, her hands flying to her mouth and the morning sun glistening in her eyes. ‘Draco?’ She whispered his name so softly, he didn’t think he would have heard without the additional help of his super hearing.

‘Claws in,’ he said, Plagg flying from the ring and out into his hands, fast asleep. Keeping his eyes on Hermione, he placed Plagg gently into his pocket.

His eyes began to sting. Too afraid to blink in case she disappeared, too afraid to move in case she told him to stay back. They were at a stalemate, or at least he thought they were.

Without hesitation, Hermione moved, running forward and leaping into his arms. She wrapped herself around him tightly, gentle giggles caressing his ear as he moved, spinning her around, a wide smile gracing his own face.

He placed her down like the most delicate object in the universe and moved his hands to her face, brushing the stray strands of hair he adored so much behind her ears.

‘You have your Miraculous?’ she asked, her voice breathless and full of excitement.

He glanced down at his transformed ring, pride surging through him as he took in the new pattern on the signet. ‘I have.’

Small hands placed over his, cupping around them and warming every inch of him. ‘I’m so proud of you…Kitty.’

The name caused unnatural things to happen within his body, everything tingling from his head to his toes. He grabbed her again, pulling her towards him and pressing their bodies together. She ran her hands up his body and into his hair, pulling his head down and pressing his lips into hers.

Lips tingling, and blood pulsing, Draco kissed her back. The intensity and fire burning through him in deep longing and need. His hands gripping her hair, wrapping it around his fist and giving it a little pull, one to help tilt her head to where he wanted her. Releasing with one hand, it moved down her back and positioned itself on her lower back, pulling her in closer and closer. Moulding them together in a perfect combination of creation and destruction.

A cough echoed around the Entrance Hall, and they pulled apart. Hermione covered her mouth with her hand – and, from what he could tell, quite a smile.

‘Miss Granger, Mr Malfoy, I don’t expect to see such canoodling in the corridors at this time in the morning.’

‘S-sorry, Headmistress McGonagall.’ Hermione stumbled over her words, instead moving closer to him and reaching out, slotting her fingers into his, and it thrilled him. She wasn’t ashamed at all at what happened, if anything, she was standing there proud.

‘I suggest you keep it for when you’re not on school grounds.’

They both nodded. Neither really able to answer her, or say anything. Being honest, Draco just wanted her to go so they could sneak off to a cupboard somewhere, maybe continue what they started back in Paris – seven minutes in the potions store room cupboard sounded delightful.

‘Miss Granger, I believe this belongs to you.’ McGonagall stepped forward, handing a small box to Hermione, before turning and heading back in the direction of the staircase.

She froze as her hand lay on the banister, turning her head to look over her shoulder. ‘Oh, and welcome back both of you. I hope your little excursion was beneficial. And if we don’t mind keeping the additional magic hidden until you leave Hogwarts in a couple of months, that would be…invaluable.’

They both stood staring, shocked and amazed as McGonagall sailed away, and up the staircase.

‘Well, that was certainly different,’ amusement coating Draco’s words. He turned back to look at Hermione, a teasing smile plaguing her lips.

‘Now, how about we find the Room of Requirement, I’m not quite finished with you yet.’ Hermione’s eyes were glittered as she looked up at him.

‘Tsk, tsk, you naughty girl. Who would have thought you had it in you?’

‘I’ve spent too much time with someone who is a terrible example.’

‘Terrible? Who are you calling terrible? Didn’t you know I’m the brave Chat Noir, holder of the cat Miraculous and defender of the beautiful and creative Ladybug.’

‘Ladybug?’ She gasped, suddenly remembering the box in her hand. Opening it up, they were surrounded by a flash of red. And a small bug like kwami appeared in front of them.

‘Tikki?’

The kwami smiled. ‘I am Tikki, kwami of creation, and you are my new holder. It’s good to see you again, Hermione.’ The small kwami snuggled into Hermione’s cheek as she stared at Draco, her eyes asking the same questions he had.

‘Different universe,’ Draco explained, Hermione smiling widely.

Not another word was spoken, instead, Hermione took Draco’s hand and led him back up the grand staircases and down towards the Room of Requirement. They had a lot to talk about. They had a lot to plan, especially revealing their relationship to their friends. But right now that didn’t matter.

All that mattered was that they worked out what they wanted to be away from the prying eyes of others, and if that was to include a lot of making out, who was Draco to complain?

Chapter Text

Marinette

Things hadn’t been as easy as they expected when they returned to Paris.

Luka had shied away from them, still feeling responsible for everything that had happened with Cerise. Both Adrien and Marinette had tried to talk to him, assuring him that it wasn’t his fault, that he wasn’t the first to fall into the trap and neither would he be the last. But as always, Luka had taken the weight upon himself and Marinette was determined to make sure that didn’t stick. He had been manipulated, he hadn’t done this to himself.

Which is why Marinette was walking alongside him, heading down towards Françoise DuPont, ready for the Spring Fling.

They had arrived back in Paris from their log cabin earlier that day. This time, Adrien had insisted on riding in the car with Marinette—something, she noted, that Draco never did. She was secretly thrilled by the attention he was giving her, especially after everything they'd been through. Their relationship had been on the brink, teetering so close to collapse. But it hadn’t fallen apart. Instead, they had found a way to rebuild. It would never be what it once was, but with this new understanding of who he truly was, she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Swapping cars from the outward journey, Marinette had spent a rather tense journey back with Félix and Kagami, Adrien revealing his identity for the truth from his cousin. He hadn’t held back. Félix was questioned, probed and backed into a corner as Adrien made him tell him everything that had happened and what he knew. Marinette had sat almost silently in the back with Kagami, responding every now and then when Adrien asked them a direct question.

Adrien was with Nathalie now, confronting her and demanding the pieces of the story he didn’t know. Marinette had offered to go with him, but he’d chosen to face this alone—to air out the dirty laundry and uncover whatever had been hidden for so long.

She loved Adrien—both Adrien and Chat Noir—and nothing, no one, would ever change that. Their relationship would need to evolve, shift from what they once knew and were comfortable with, but she believed in them. They had already taken the biggest step forward, and there was no turning back now. Not that they needed to.

The many reveals had pulled every skeleton out of the closet, there was nothing left hidden or anything left that he didn’t know. They knew each other inside and out and they knew they could never live without each other. That was just fact!

’I’m sorry,’ Luka said for the thousandth time. Marinette stopped, placing a hand on her arm and giving him a slight tug.

He seemed so much smaller than the guy she knew, the one who had everything figured out—everything sorted.

’I told you, there’s nothing to apologise for—‘

’But—‘ he interrupted, but she was too quick. Stopping him from saying anything else.

’But nothing, Luka. She can be convincing. She’s done it many times before and I’m sure she’ll be out there ready to strike again.’

Luka sighed, moving a stone around with the sole of his shoe. ‘I should have been more careful. I’ve lost the Miraculous too. Everything I’ve ever stood for has been broken.’

Marinette shook her head fiercely. ‘No! No you haven’t lost the Miraculous, it was stolen from you. You’re still strong and loyal, you came back to us, you fought through it to stay with us. Listen—‘ She held his hand tightly. ‘You don’t always have to be perfect. It’s okay for you to make mistakes, to fail…but you tried and you believed us when the time was needed. Hermione and Draco trusted you just as much as myself and Adrien do. So please stop blaming yourself.’

His shoulders dropped even lower. His eyes unreadable. ‘How are you going to get it back?’

Marinette shrugged, her lips tugging as she studied him. ‘That’s an adventure for another day.’

He gave a little scoff. ‘Are you sure you’re Marinette?’

She gave him a gentle tap on the arm, the tension suddenly loosening enough for him to breathe.

’Come on…’ She gave him a little tug in the direction of the collège. ‘Let’s go and enjoy our evening. We’ve worked hard for this.’ Giving him a little tug, they made it down towards the Spring Fling, Marinette’s arm looped through Luka’s.

As they arrived at the venue, Marinette slowed, her heels clicking softly against the pavement coming to a complete stop. She whispered a quick goodbye to Luka watching as he made his way up the staircase. Her heart beat faster. She hadn’t heard from Adrien since he'd texted hours ago—just a brief message: "Wish me luck." And then… silence.

Now she stood at the bottom of the grand steps, surrounded by laughter, music, and the warm glow of the evening. Guests streamed past her, dressed to impress, offering waves and cheerful greetings. She smiled back, mechanically, hiding the knot tightening in her stomach. But still—no Adrien.

Her fingers trembled as she pulled out her phone. She tapped his name. Calling...

One ring.

Two.

Three.

Voicemail.

Again.

And again.

Each unanswered call sliced deeper.

Where was he?

She shot off a few texts—“Are you okay?” “Where are you?” “Please, just let me know something”—then slid the phone back into her bag, her breath hitching. This wasn’t like him. This wasn’t the boy who once ran through the rain just to hand her a forgotten umbrella. This wasn’t the Adrien who had whispered promises against her hair and told her he’d always show up.

Was he… gone?

Had he decided, in some silent, devastating moment, that she wasn’t worth the fight after all? That the distance was too much? Had he boarded a plane to London? To New York? To anywhere that didn’t have her?

Antarctica, she thought bitterly. Maybe that’s where he is. Somewhere unreachable.

Marinette wrapped her arms around herself, eyes scanning the street again. But all she saw were strangers.

And he wasn’t one of them.

‘Hey girl!’ Alya called out, strolling up the sidewalk with Nino by her side, their steps in perfect sync. Her arm was looped effortlessly through his, and together, they looked like they’d just stepped off the pages of Vogue.

Alya’s emerald green gown shimmered in the light, hugging her figure in all the right places. The halter neckline framed her shoulders elegantly, drawing attention to the delicate curve of her collarbone. Her hair was swept up into an intricate side bun, not a strand out of place. Beside her, Nino exuded confidence in a sleek black suit—no hat tonight, for once, and somehow that only made him look sharper.

‘You look amazing,’ Marinette said, stepping forward to wrap Alya in a tight hug, trying to push down the knot in her chest.

‘You too! This whole thing is next-level.’ Alya stepped back, her hands still holding Marinette’s wrists, eyes wide with admiration. She gave her a playful once-over, swaying side to side. ‘You’re seriously glowing.’

‘Where’s my dude?’ Nino asked suddenly, peering past Marinette toward the atrium. ‘I bet he’s losing his mind walking in with someone as stunning as you.’

Marinette froze for a heartbeat, then shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Her hands dropped to her sides.

‘He’s—He’s not here yet,’ she said, voice faltering.

Nino’s brow furrowed, head tilting as his easygoing expression faded. ‘What?’

‘He’s not here,’ she repeated softly, almost like the words cost her something. ‘I haven’t heard from him since earlier.’

A sudden hush settled over the trio, as if the laughter and music around them had dimmed just slightly. Alya’s bright smile dimmed as her grip tightened gently on Marinette’s wrist. She exchanged a quick glance with Nino—unspoken concern flickering between them—before both turned their full attention back to her.

Alya stepped forward, an arm reaching out, just as Marinette’s phone chimed in her bag. They all looked at the object like it was about to burst into an over dramatic firework display.

‘Carry on in,’ Marinette said, taking a step back away from Alya, a fake smile attempting to plaster itself on her lips. ‘Seriously, that’s probably Adrien saying he’s just leaving.’

Nino and Alya looked reluctant to leave, both staying firmly planted to the spot.

‘Please. Don’t miss the dance because of me.’

Alya nodded slowly, stepping forward and kissing Marinette on the cheek. ‘We’ll see you both inside.’

She turned, taking Nino’s hand and walking up the staircase, leaving Marinette alone to consult her phone.

Taking a deep breath, she unclipped her bag and pulled out her phone.

1 new message

Adrien: Sorry, M’Lady. I can’t make it x

Adrien

Adrien had always found the phrase "from bad to worse" curious—after all, bad was just another word for worse. But now, living through the lies, manipulation, and deceit, he understood it all too well. Things hadn’t just gotten worse; they had unraveled completely.

Slumped in his room, he tossed his phone to the far side of the bed and buried his face in his hands. He felt sick for canceling on Marinette. After everything they’d been through, after all the time and care she’d poured into designing the perfect ball gown, he wasn’t going. He just… couldn’t.

The conversation with Nathalie had been brutal. There had been shouting, tears—maybe even a few objects thrown. A swirling cocktail of emotions had left him wrecked, and now he was feeling the aftermath: the emotional hangover, the fatigue, the hollow ache of too much too fast.

He felt terrible. But right now, he wasn’t good company. Not until his thoughts stopped spinning and the world started making sense again.

If he’d thought Marinette’s betrayal was hard to overcome, it was nothing compared to what he was feeling now—toward Nathalie, and the rest of his so-called family. Félix, Aunt Amelie... they were just as guilty as everyone else he’d once trusted. The Bourgeois family. The Tsurugi family. So many people tangled up in layers of deceit. And the worst part? The children were the ones paying the price for their parents’ twisted schemes.

He just wished he’d known. Or at least seen it coming.

‘Kid, can I get you anything?’ Plagg’s voice was soft, laced with concern.

Adrien shook his head. There was nothing anyone could do. He was living in a new reality now—one he hadn’t chosen—and he needed to figure out where he fit in. Who he even was anymore.

He stood and walked over to his closet, pulling the doors open to reveal rows of perfectly curated outfits. He’d always worn the same thing: jeans, trainers, a T-shirt, an overshirt. Polished. Predictable. Controlled. But maybe it was time to change that—start something new. Something real.

Bending down, he rummaged toward the back of the wardrobe, patting around until his hands brushed against a soft, balled-up bundle. With a tug, he pulled out a pair of grey sweatpants—wrinkled and cozy, the kind of thing his father would have hated. But Adrien liked them. They were easy. Honest.

He stripped off his shirt and tossed it onto the bed, then reached back into the closet for a hoodie. He pulled out a dark green one—plain, brandless, comfortable. He slipped it over his head.

Simple. Unassuming. Real.

Him.

Adrien stepped in front of the mirror and took in his reflection. The outfit wasn’t fancy or branded, but for the first time in a while, it felt like him. Someone who wanted to be comfortable. Someone who didn’t want to live under constant expectations or scrutiny. It felt... almost good.

A soft tap at the window broke his thoughts. He turned toward the sound—and there she was. Hanging upside down like Spider-Man, Ladybug grinned at him through the glass.

Adrien rushed to the window, unlatching it and swinging it open to let her in.

They stood in silence, eyes locked, the air heavy with unspoken emotion.

Then, without a word, Ladybug stepped forward and extended her hand.

‘Come with me.’

Adrien hesitated for only a breath before nodding.

‘Claws out.’

A flash of green light lit the room, and in an instant, Chat Noir stood in his place.

Together, they climbed out the window and ascended to the rooftop, the city stretching endlessly around them.

’Sorry I didn’t come…just…’ Adrien’s words died out in the breeze, floating away from them, yet the meaning stayed. He knew he was a mess. He knew he would be for a while, he just hoped she wouldn’t get fed up and leave him. He didn’t think he could stand it.

The sky mirrored his turmoil. The night grew heavier, the darkness thickening like clouds gathering before a downpour. The air pressed in around them, damp and heavy with a humidity that clung to his skin—suffocating, expectant. It was the hush before the storm, the charged stillness that made your breath catch, as if the world itself were holding its breath with him. Something was coming. He could feel it in his bones—in the aching weight of everything left unsaid.

’You know what I was most excited for tonight?’ she asked, turning to face him.

Her hand rose gently to his face, her thumb brushing over the edge of his mask, skimming his lashes with a tenderness that made his breath hitch.

‘What?’ he breathed, the word barely carried on the air between them.

A single raindrop fell from the sky, landing softly on her cheek. Then another. And another. Within moments, the drizzle turned to a sudden downpour.

They began to laugh—light, surprised, breathless laughter—as Ladybug pulled her hand back and slipped it into his.

A drop struck her nose, trailing slowly down to her lips, and she scrunched her face in that way that always managed to undo him.

Smiling, he tugged her with him, guiding her off the rooftop and under the canopy of a vacant apartment balcony nearby. There, as the storm surged around them, they huddled close—his arms wrapping tightly around her, shielding her from the rain. Just as she always tried to shield him from everything else.

‘You,’ she whispered, her voice trembling with raw sincerity. ‘I just wanted to spend time with you. Here. There. Anywhere. You are everything to me, Adrien. I don’t care where we are, or what we do. Wherever you go, wherever you want to be, I’ll be right there beside you. I was made to be beside you.’

His heart raced as he pulled her in, his hand gently cradling her cheek. His thumb, soft as a caress, swept away the rain tracing her skin, his gaze never leaving hers. In that moment, he saw it all—the love, the adoration, the longing, the unspoken need. Everything he’d ever dreamed of was right there, in her eyes. And despite the chaos swirling around them, despite the storm that raged both in the world and their hearts, he knew it was time.

Time to stop hiding from it all, time to stop fearing the storm.

A smile curled on his lips, warmth blooming inside him, sparking something electric and alive. Without thinking, he took her hand and, with a playful tug, pulled her out into the pouring rain.

Laughter bubbled between them as they splashed into the street, dodging puddles and teasing each other, completely lost in the storm—and in each other.

Laughter echoed between them, the sound of their playful battle with the rain and each other filling the night air. They darted around, kicking at puddles and ducking to avoid splash attacks, their hands brushing, their eyes locked in shared joy.

But then, Chat Noir’s playful smirk softened, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to gently tug a lock of her wet hair behind her ear. His touch lingered on her skin, as if savoring the moment.

Ladybug paused, her laughter dying in the quiet of the storm. Their gazes held, the world around them fading into nothing but the space between their hearts. The rain soaked them both, but it was as if time had stopped, leaving them in the sacred stillness of this shared moment.

Without another word, Chat Noir—Adrien—closed the distance, his hand coming up to cradle her face as he leaned in. Their lips met—soft at first, a gentle exploration, but the storm between them was no longer just outside. His kiss deepened, urgent and tender, as if they both knew this was the moment that had been building for so long.

Ladybug responded, her hands finding their way to his chest, pulling him closer, feeling his heartbeat against her own. They were no longer just two souls caught in a whirlwind—they were one, tangled together in the storm, in the kiss that sealed everything between them.

The world continued to rain down around them, but nothing could touch them now. Nothing but the warmth of their embrace, the intensity of their connection.

And when it felt like everything was ending—for him, for them—the undeniable truth was that this was only the beginning.