I do not own Harry Potter.
Eleven.
Why did I come here?
More guests were arriving just as she approached the door. Slughorn's booming laugh emanated from the room. Merry, festive music filled the space around her. Oh, and she'd chosen a sleeveless dress—she'd forgotten how cold the dungeons could get. Even now, her breath was visible. Nerves began to form—she made a face, anticipating an unpleasant evening. She shouldn't have come, but how could she get out of it now? It would be extremely rude, too, considering she had a date…
Cormac had noticed her shivering. "Do you want my cloak?"
Hermione uncrossed her arms. "No, thank you."
They entered the room together and were met with instant warmth. Slughorn had preceded the temperature problem; the once gloomy dungeon was suffused with golden light, cozily warm as if the very sun had devoted some of its might to ensuring a successful party. Hermione looked around, searching for familiar faces.
"Do you want anything to drink?"
"Yes, please." She smiled at him. Ron had not talked to her much after the outburst over Viktor's letters, and she'd been so fed up with it she'd dropped the intention of asking him to the party with her, and at a loss for who else to approach, surprised herself by asking Cormac McLaggen on a whim. Harry knew, but she had avoided letting Ron know, expecting another fallout. She still felt slightly guilty for not inviting Ron anyway, but only remembering how needlessly angry he'd been over the whole matter chased the feeling away.
What does it matter to him, who I write to? She remembered how he'd viciously he'd acted in Fourth year, during the ball when she'd attended with Krum.
Could he have been jealous?
Of what?
"Hey, Hermione!" Padma passed by, looking over her shoulder to stare excitedly between her and Cormac. Hermione turned away. Brilliant.
Cormac's hand went around her waist. Taken by surprise, she looked up at him.
"Would you rather I didn't?" he asked, grinning crookedly.
"I don't know." And she didn't. "I suppose I don't mind."
"There's Potter," he said, looking over her shoulder. "I'll get your drink." He turned and disappeared in the throng of people all around them.
Harry approached Hermione, looking pointedly in Cormac's direction and then back at Hermione curiously. She laughed and shrugged.
"Where's Luna? I thought I saw her just now."
Harry ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to flatten it. "She's talking to Trelawney."
"That must be quite the conversation."
"She gave me this." He pointed to a silver-petaled flower on his lapel.
"It's lovely," she said, reaching out to touch the petals gently. "I've never seen this before. Did she give you the name?"
"I've forgotten," he said, and laughed.
The music shifted to a familiar song by Celestina Warbeck. They both winced.
"She's really got a beautiful voice," Hermione said. Harry shrugged one shoulder.
Cormac materialized beside her and handed her a glass. Hermione thanked him.
"Slughorn's got a lot of friends," Harry said, looking around the room.
"I hear there's a vampire here somewhere," Cormac said. "From Romania."
"Really?" Hermione craned her neck to look around. "I'd love to ask him some questions."
"If you can spot him first," Harry said. The room was more crowded than it had ever been, and more people kept arriving. The music began to pick up again.
"Shame there's no room for dancing," Cormac said. Hermione blushed.
"Will you be signing up for the Apparition lessons?" she asked him.
"Who isn't? Nothing beats flying a broom, but you couldn't convince me to travel extensively through one."
"Awful, isn't it."
"It's a wonder the lessons only take up so little time. With all the risk involved you'd think it would take more time to learn than a few weeks," Hermione said. "Perhaps if there was some precursor, or extra reading material…"
"Don't start," Harry said. "You spend enough time in the library."
"What's wrong with that?" She put her hands on her hips. "You could stand to spend a few hours a day in the library, you know."
"Oh! What will you say to that, Potter?" Cormac asked, laughing.
Harry smiled. "I'd say she's right."
Shortly after Cormac excused himself and Harry and Hermione both stood for a moment without saying much.
"He doesn't seem as annoying as he usually does," Harry said, frowning.
"I'd forgotten." She turned to him. "Perhaps it only rears up around Quidditch."
"Maybe he fancies you."
Hermione frowned. "You think?"
"Harry, m'boy!" a huge, fat hand clapped onto Harry's back. Hermione jumped. Harry staggered.
Slughorn and his belly stepped into view. He wore sparkling green robes and a matching hat. His grey walrus mustache had been oiled, his round, sagging cheeks flushed red. In his other hand he held a goblet which must have contained wine, considering the smell of his breath.
"At last you answer my invitation! You've been hiding from me too long, boy. You ought to let yourself have some fun!" He wagged a meaty finger. Harry's face was blank.
"I've been busy with schoolwork, Professor."
"Always so modest, isn't he?" Slughorn winked at Hermione. "I hear Albus has you doing extra assignments, too!"
"Mostly it's just me finding things," Harry said. Hermione bit back a laugh.
"Well I made sure Dumbledore had no claim over you tonight, Harry, m'boy. Education is important, of course it is, but one must take advantage of their youth while they still have it. I'm sure some stories of your father's doings in his schooldays have reared themselves, and it isnt quite fair to thrust so much responsibility on one at such a young age no matter what they may have gone through. Although, I have heard stories of your adventures in your first years here, and I am sure you don't need an old drunken man telling you what you already know."
"I didn't exactly go looking to have adventures, sir," Harry said.
"Of course not! Forgive me, Harry, I fear I've annoyed you now when I didn't mean to."
"It's alright, sir."
For fear of the awkwardness continuing, Hermione spoke up from the other side of Slughorn's belly.
"Thank you for inviting us, sir," Hermione said. Slughorn turned, shocked to find her there, as if she had been hiding intentionally.
"Miss Granger! Oho!" He gave another booming laugh. "The pleasure is mine, my dear. The room is made brighter with your presence! You know, I had a hunch you two would be coming together, and I'm never wrong!" His stomach heaved visibly and wobbled as he laughed.
Harry and Hermione traded amused glances.
"Er…"
"We didn't come together, Professor," Hermione said, smiling in embarrassment.
Slughorn's face fell.
"Goodness, is that so? Forgive me, you two! My mind is muddled with merriment and this delicious wine. Let us pretend I said nothing at all and enjoy the party. Miss Granger, there are several author friends of mine in attendance who I am sure you will have fascinating conversations with."
"I'll be pleased to meet them, Professor."
"As you command, my dear!" He took her arm and began to walk off, but turned to Harry again. "I've been told you're very fond of treacle tart, Harry. There's a man by the table who's been wanting to speak to you, as well. Enjoy yourself, won't you?"
As he led Hermione away Slughorn kept up an endless stream of conversation and greetings to other people, so Hermione had little other to do than walk along and try not to bump into anyone.
"I'll introduce you to Marlene Tanspel first," he was saying, "she wrote the most scrumptious book on the sometimes questionable inner workings of the Ministry. Banned almost immediately after publication, of course—Fudge didn't approve—but there are copies out there, and one of the few that exists resides in my library." He patted Hermione on the arm. "You'll keep my secret?"
"Of course, Professor."
"I'm pleased to hear it! Now, what's this?"
A commotion had started up amongst the guests. In between bodies, Hermione caught a glimpse of Snape speaking very sharply to someone, but she couldn't see whom.
"Severus, what is the matter?" Slughorn asked, gently releasing Hermione's arm. Grateful, Hermione looked around for Harry, but couldn't find him. Had something happened to him?
"Nothing more than an intruder," Snape said in his usual detached voice. "I shall reprimand him at once."
Slughorn looked surprised, then thoughtful. "Now, now, Severus! Bring him here, if you please."
Visibly annoyed, Snape led what appeared to be a very reluctant Malfoy up to them. Hermione's stomach jumped to see him so suddenly. Her cheeks went red, and she didn't know why.
A slight pink tinge overtook his face but his jaw was clenched. Their eyes met and he too seemed surprised to see her there but looked away quickly. Hermione studied him carefully—he looked as ill as before, as if he'd never gotten a night's sleep in his life. As gaunt as he looked she was surprised to notice it made him appear handsomer. His cheekbones appeared more prominent, and even in this startling ragged state he looked like a prince among commoners, and it was aggravating. Ghost pressure constricted her throat; her hand came up to it instinctively—his eyes flashed towards her at the motion and he turned his whole head away, as if he couldn't bear the sight of her.
She remembered him outside her door, squinting in the glare of her Lumos, looking like a creature come from the forest to creep the abandoned halls.
'Do what you will.'
She started. The letters. Oh Gods, the letters. Why hadn't she sent them yet?
"Why, Draco!" Slughorn said pleasantly. "If you wanted to attend, you might have asked."
Hermione found herself extremely doubtful that Malfoy cared enough about some silly party to go out of his way to crash it. If he had, he certainly wouldn't be acting as calm as he was now. He looked embarrassed, to be sure, but not as angry as he could have been. He had to have been doing something else—she simply couldn't believe that he was resentful enough to pull something like this. But what did she know? He'd surprised her in the past.
"I'm sorry, sir."
There was something he was hiding. She could see it in his eyes.
"Never mind that. Let him alone, Severus. Let him join the festivity! Times like this, there's no need for punishment over something so small."
Snape's scowl deepened until it looked his face was carved of rock. He placed his hand on Malfoy's shoulder, as if wanting to get a word in but Malfoy shrugged it off viciously.
Malfoy spoke stiffly. "Thank you, sir." He turned and left. Snape had already gone, too. She wondered what Malfoy would do now. Why was he here in the first place? She hoped Harry was already on the move.
After she had finally extracted herself from Slughorn and all his friends, she went in search of Harry, and finally found him with Luna in a corner of the room.
"Hullo, Hermione," Luna said. "Did you see the feathered wormdingle on the Christmas tree?"
"I don't think I did," Hermione said, taking some punch from the table.
"They like the smell of pine," Harry informed her.
"And bacon." Luna took a chocolate from the small paper plate she was holding and ate it.
"Me too," Hermione said, taking a bacon-wrapped sausage from the table.
"I can tell you two want to talk. That's okay. I'm going to find Ginny." Luna patted Hermione's arm, smiled, and left. Hermione stared after her, perplexed.
Harry looked around, suspicion and unease scrawled across his face.
"Did you follow him?" she asked quietly.
"Yeah, out into the corridor." He paused. "He and Snape had an argument."
"What did they say?"
"I'll wait until we get back to the tower," he said, leaning away suddenly to nod at Cormac, who had found and approached them. Hermione, who hadn't noticed him, jumped.
"Sorry," he said. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder and grinned crookedly. "The party's gotten weird."
"Oh-" she looked around. He was right. Slughorn was well into his cups, bellowing loudly along to the song the band was playing, clutching one of his visiting guests by the shoulder. A gaggle of students stood nearby, looking thrilled and some even cheering him on.
"Well."
Luna stood beside the pine tree in the front of the room, arm outstretched to the top, talking to something invisible, as if coaxing it to come down. Someone had smuggled in a Fizzing Whizbee—it snarled as it flew past them—Cormac had to duck. It made another trip around the room, and the excited students grabbed for it, wanting to throw it too.
Hermione brought out her wand. "Accio!"
The toy flew into her waiting hand and she tapped it with her wand to deactivate it before stuffing it into her pocket.
"Right," she said, "shall we go?"
"Let me walk you to your common room," Cormac said.
Hermione paused. "I'd like that, thanks."
"I've got to escort Luna back, too," Harry said. He squeezed Hermione's arm. "See you in a bit."
"Sure."
"Why'd you ask me to go with you?" Cormac asked. They were the only ones in the corridor. Torchlight flickered all along the floor. Hermione wished she had worn a warmer dress.
"I couldn't think of anyone else to ask, honestly," Hermione said, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Everyone else had plans, and then I ran into you…"
Cormac nodded. "I wondered…"
"What?"
"I'd thought you and Potter would go together."
Hermione missed a step and nearly stumbled, but caught herself in time.
"That's the second time I've been told that today," she said, trying not to sound too annoyed. "Why does everyone think that?"
Cormac looked like he wished he hadn't said anything. "It's just-you two are so close. You spent most of tonight with him, though he wasn't your date."
The accusation stung though he spoke plainly, and without bitterness. Hermione felt a sharp retort at the tip of her tongue but bit it back. He wasn't accusing her. He'd just said a fact, and the truth was, he was right and within his right to do so.
Guilt turned her face red. She really had spent more time with Harry. How many minutes in total had she spent with Cormac? Ten, at the very optimistic most. She cringed, wondering how she could have behaved so rudely.
"I didn't realize…" she grabbed his arm and he stopped. "I'm so sorry. That was abominable of me."
"I was happy when you asked me to go to the party with you," he said. "When we got there, I began to think you were using me to make him jealous."
Her jaw went slack. "I would never!"
He smiled. "See, I thought so."
Hermione took a moment to collect her thoughts.
"Look. I love Harry, but not in that way. I really don't have an excuse for what I did other than the fact that I can be a fool sometimes and unfortunately it came at your expense. I really am sorry."
"Perhaps we can try again some other time?"
"Perhaps."
Gods, he was too nice. Arrogant, most of the time, to be sure, but she'd never known this side of him. What Harry had said earlier ran through her mind again and she looked at Cormac dubiously. Perhaps the behavior change was simply because she never talked to him at all and only ever saw him at the Quidditch pitch.
Whatever the reason, he'd still been enjoyable company. If Ron had been in his place he would have sulked and played the silent treatment and who knew what else.
You shouldn't be surprised, she told herself. Everyone's different. You just forget that a lot.
Cormac had come closer. His hand was still on hers. She could see a small scar across the bridge of his nose.
"Do we kiss now?" she asked jokingly.
"If you want."
She took a moment to think it over. Was it a good idea? Here, now? In the corridor? All alone? Where anyone could find them like this?
Go on, do it! It's only a kiss. When was the last time a boy paid you attention?
That's not a good reason to kiss someone, she thought.
But he is handsome. You've always thought so, haven't you? Have a little fun. It doesn't have to go any further than this.
She leaned in, still unsure. He removed his hand from on top of hers and brought it around her waist, leaning in even closer until their lips met. His curly blond hair fell into her eyes and he pressed firmly against her mouth. His lips were soft, warm, tasting faintly of cinnamon. His chest pressed against her and it felt nice, like the first time she'd kissed Viktor, though that had been so different. And then the last time she'd ever been kissed…
His tongue sampled her bottom lip—her breath caught and she pulled away nervously.
"Sorry," she said, trying to catch breath though the kiss had only lasted for a matter of seconds. Memories had come up, ones she did not want to think about currently.
Cormac looked at her carefully. "Are you alright?"
She tried to smile. "I thought I heard something."
He took a look around. "We should get going. Regardless of where we came from, Filch isn't fond of Slughorn."
They reached her room some moments later, and lingered outside her door.
"I enjoyed tonight," he said.
"I wish I hadn't made such a blunder of it," Hermione said, grimacing.
"Perhaps we can try again, if you'd like to be my date on the first trip to Hogsmeade after break?"
Hermione bit her lip. "I don't want to give you any ideas, Cormac. I like you, but I have more important things to focus on than dating currently."
He looked a little taken aback at her choice of words, but after a moment, nodded. "I get it. School first."
"I didn't mean it as a slight," she insisted. "I don't have room for much else."
"Surely we can still talk?" he asked teasingly. "I'd hate to see you held hostage by schoolwork."
She swatted at his arm and said, "Of course," even while thinking it was unlikely to happen.
There was a distant sound at the farthest end of the corridor. They both jumped.
"Well, goodnight," he said softly.
"Goodnight. Enjoy the holiday."
He leaned in again, and sensing he wanted another kiss, Hermione turned away. He paused, and stepped back.
"Same to you."
Hermione entered her room and stood there for a moment, not knowing what to do. The letters were on her mind. She had to send them. It had been almost two weeks since her discovering Malfoy outside her door. She didn't know why she was so reluctant to do it. It was confusing and irritating. What would he think if she didn't come through on her threat?
She began to pace, composing the letter in her head.
Including the usual formal introduction, this was all she had:
You'll be interested to hear that your son has behaved most inappropriately. During Dolores Umbridge's time as Headmistress last year he, along with others, was assigned to follow certain students to gather intelligence. Your son was assigned to me, and over the course of the year he increased his efforts, which ultimately led to physical violence in which I was left with injuries and bruises more than once.
Now, the kiss. How on Earth could she write about that? To his parents no less!
Your son snogged me against my will and I wish you, or someone would punish him for it but I'm too embarrassed to tell.
Perhaps if she just sent them the memories instead, and a short, succinct note...
Hermione rubbed at her eyes. It would be best to work on it tomorrow with a clear head.
He was walking again in the dead of night, on his way back to his dorm after spending some time in the Astronomy Tower. He'd been so angry after getting caught outside the party that he'd gone for a long walk to try and take his mind off it and had ended up there without meaning to.
Raw, numbing exhaustion burned at his head.
Just a little longer.
The thing about Disillusion charms was that they didn't conceal shadows. As useful as magic could be, it did have its limits. To compensate he stuck himself to the wall like a spider and crept on, treading silently.
There was a little light up ahead. He knew its source. He slowed down further to eliminate any chance of her hearing him, walking almost as if he'd been hit with a slow-motion jinx. He could hear her pacing inside her quarters, that was how quiet it was. What could she be doing at this hour?
Better not to dwell. He crawled on.
He was going to have to walk past her door.
Fuck that.
He went around to give it a wide berth, wondering if he dared pick up speed a little.
He took a step, and kicked something—a small stone, probably. It clattered down into the darkness, and his heart stopped at the same moment her pacing stopped.
Every instinct screamed to keep going, but he felt that if he listened to it, somehow she would be persuaded to exit her room and investigate. His heart rate would suffer for it, but he remained frozen, hoping he was right. If she came out anyway, at least his concealment charm would buy him seconds enough to get a head start.
Seconds dragged by, each slower than the last. No sound came from either him or behind the door.
There could be no way she didn't know it was him.
His legs burned. All he wanted was to fall on his bed and sleep. How funny, that he was practically hiding from her now. She would laugh herself into hysterics if she ever knew.
The pacing resumed. The light clicked off, and minutes later, when he was absolutely sure that she was not listening behind the door, he crept away, heart still racing.
A/N:
What's up with not sending them letters, huh?
Cormac isn't coming into the big picture here, so don't be alarmed. The scene with him and Hermione is a one time thing. Just following canon very loosely, since I hated this part of HBP.