Chapter Thirteen


Blowing out the Cobwebs

The Christmas holidays went far too quickly for Hermione. She had smiled and laughed her way through the present giving, attended the service with her parents, and played a seemingly never-ending number of muggle games promising fun for all the family. But all too soon it was time to go back to Hogwarts, and that meant she would be seeing Draco Malfoy again. She knew she wasn't over him yet: when she woke up on Christmas morning, hidden amongst the pile of books that she always received from her family and friends, there was a small package wrapped in green and silver paper. Her treacherous heart had leapt at the sight, but it had just been a pair of earrings from her parents.

Almost a month had passed since the Christmas Ball, and she still couldn't believe how stupid she had been to think that Draco might ever have loved her. She realised now that she had never been anything more than a game for him; a challenge. As soon as she laid her feelings on the table and he knew that he had won, he had cast her aside as though she were worth nothing. It was harder than ever to deal with, because she had known what he was like and still she had chosen to trust him. Hermione had sent herself into a shame spiral throughout the holidays, and blamed no-one but herself for what had happened.

So she was determined to throw herself more into her school-life than ever before when she returned, and only Ginny could ever have guessed how she was feeling as she laughed at Harry's jokes and told Ron off for not revising enough. "But the exams are still months away," Ron protested as he miserably watched his friend drawing up a time-table for him as they sat together in the common room.

"That doesn't mean you can't start early, Ron. These exams are very important, and you're not going to be able to copy from me when we take them." She tapped her wand to make the subjects flash in different colours, and handed it to him. "Have you finished you Defence homework?"

Ron groaned and looked over at Ginny and Harry, who were watching the scene play out with grins on their faces. "I don't know what you're laughing about," he said to his best friend. "She'll do one for you next."

The smile disappeared from Harry's face at that, and he quickly turned to Ginny. "Kiss me," he said with mock desperation. "She'll be so disgusted with our public display of affection that she'll forget all about exams." He threw himself onto the redhead, who tried to push him off her, laughing at his antics.

Hermione smiled reluctantly. "Alright, I promise. There'll be no more exam talk," she said, raising her hands in defeat. "This evening," she added with a sly grin.

Ron shook his head. "You're like a woman possessed," he said. "You do realise it's only January, right? The exams are almost half a year away."

"Sorry, there's no exam talk this evening," Hermione responded sweetly. "Not even if it's about how much time there is until the exams."

Ron laughed good-naturedly at her answer. He had definitely cheered up since Nick had been pushed out of the picture, even though he hadn't renewed his overtures to Hermione. Although she felt horrible for it, Hermione hoped he wouldn't try again with her for a long time. Sometimes, in her lowest moments, she wondered if she should give him a try. As she watched him begin a violent game of wizard's chess with Harry, she admitted that he wouldn't be a bad boyfriend. He was kind, he made her laugh, and there was no doubt that he loved her. But she knew she couldn't be in a relationship with him when she was still so hopelessly head over heels for someone else. That was exactly why her relationship with Nick hadn't worked.

She watched as Ron urged his knight on in a fight with Harry's rook, and sighed lightly. She would have to find something else to occupy her: something that didn't involve callously playing with someone else's emotions. "Shall we go flying?" Ginny said suddenly, looking up at Hermione as though she had read her mind.

Hermione's eyebrows shot up. She hadn't been flying since Nick had got her off the ground last term, and the thought of trying it again hadn't once crossed her mind. But the suggestion caught her interest, and she found herself remembering how exhilarating it had been once she had actually got up in the air. A genuine smile crossed her face, and she nodded slowly.

"Excellent," Ginny said with a grin. She leaned over and kissed Harry's cheek. "We're going out for a bit. See you later," she said. Harry barely looked up from the battle he was playing out against Ron on the chess board.

"OK," he said absently.

Ginny and Hermione had been gone more than fifteen minutes before her words finally sank in, and Harry looked up, frowning. "Did Ginny say she was going flying with Hermione?"

Ron shrugged, not taking his attention off the board. "Dunno," he said. "Bit cold for it."

Outside, Hermione and Ginny were wrapped up warmly against the evening air. Hermione was holding Ginny's broom doubtfully. "Are you sure you don't mind using the school broom?" she asked reluctantly.

"I'm sure," said Ginny, in a tone that brooked no disagreement. "You've only properly flown once in your life. You can't be riding a half-broken school broom if you want to get the full benefit of flying."

Without waiting for a response, she pushed off the ground and flew into the air. Hermione, closing her eyes and trying to remember all the tips Nick had given her, muttered a silent prayer and pushed off. When she opened her eyes, she was hovering next to Ginny, wind whipping her hair back and putting colour into her cheeks.

Ginny pushed forwards and looked back to see Hermione following her. "Isn't this great?" she shouted over her shoulder. "It really blows out the cobwebs!" She turned a loop in the air, and then went into a sharp dive, whooping as the pulled back up to join her friend.

"It is fun," Hermione admitted. She cautiously went into her own, much shallower dive, and returned to Ginny, eyes shining with exhilaration.

"Brilliant," Ginny said. "You'll be over him in no time."

There was no need for her to elaborate, and Hermione appreciated the effort that her friend was making to take her mind of Malfoy. Together they circled the Quidditch pitch, and then Ginny started teaching the older girl a few tricks. Hermione wondered at how quickly she got the hang of flying once she had moved past her initial fear.

When they finally touched down, darkness was closing in. Hermione's eyes were bright and her cheeks were flushed. "This is the plan," Ginny told her decisively. "Whenever you find the Slytherin scumbag trying to worm his way into your thoughts, you come out here and let the fresh air blow all memory of him away. If you can't get out to fly, you just remember what it's like when you're up in the air. OK?"

Laughing, Hermione nodded. "Is that what you did when Harry was refusing to acknowledge your existence?" she asked agreeably.

With a grin, Ginny shrugged. "How do you think I got so good at Quidditch?"

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Professor Snape was in the headmaster's office when he felt the unmistakeable burn on his arm. He didn't complain; he just stood up and excused himself, before disapparating. The snow was just as crisp and fresh here as it was at Hogwarts, but there was an unmistakeable atmosphere of darkness that made Snape feel cold in a way that had nothing to do with the subzero temperatures. Already, men and women stood, hooded and masked, and more were arriving every moment. Snape barely took in his surroundings as he approached the tall, snake-like creature and fell to his knees, kissing his master's robes, and rose again to move into his place in the circle.

Before he could walk away, Voldemort put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. "Snape," he said in his low, sibilant voice. Severus turned his eyes dutifully towards the other man and stared deep into the red pupils for what felt like an eternity, before Voldemort nodded and allowed him to move away.

When the circle was more or less full, Voldemort stepped into the centre and slowly turned, taking in every man and woman that stood there. Even the air was silent and tense. Finally, the shrill voice pierced the silence. "We have waited too long, and done too little. The boy lives when I should have his head proudly displayed from my rightful place as overseer of the magical world." His servants squirmed a little and looked at the ground, each hoping to avoid blame for the mistakes that had been made. "But we must not be dismayed. The prophecy, the stone, the chamber, these were the products of small minds, unable to imagine a more powerful weapon." Of course, no-one would dare point out that the prophecy had been Voldemort's idea in the first place. "The weapon I speak of, naturally, is love." His supporters glanced at each other, at a loss to understand why their master had suddenly started spouting the same rubbish that usually came out of Dumbledore's mouth.

He smiled sardonically. "Lucius Malfoy," he said suddenly in a commanding voice.

A man somewhere to Snape's right jerked his head up and hesitantly stepped forward. He bowed low, and when he straightened up he was still staring at the ground. "My lord?"

"News of a relatively interesting nature has recently reached me concerning your son."

Lucius flinched, but he kept his eyes down. "My son, my lord?"

"Does the name Granger mean anything to you, Lucius?" Voldemort's lip curled into a mocking smile, and some of the surrounding death eaters exchanged knowing looks.

But there was no spark of understanding in Lucius' expression. His face contorted with disgust. "She is a mudblood in my son's year, my lord. But my son knows to stay well away from her sort."

"You should take more interest your son's affairs, Lucius. It appears that young Draco has been enjoying a relationship with the very girl you are so sure he would avoid."

Some of the death eaters laughed mockingly at Lucius' obvious shock. Others simply looked revolted at the revelation. "My lord, I can't imagine who would ever suggest such a thing to you, but I am certain that it cannot be –"

"My sources are sound," Lord Voldemort said sharply.

Lucius bowed low, his face twisted with anger that could have been aimed at either Voldemort or at his son. "Of course, my lord," he replied quietly. "What would you have me do?"

Voldemort's mouth turned up into a cruel smile, but he shook his head. "We will discuss it in private after this evening's events," he said softly. "My loyal death eaters, at this moment I have another task for you all." He jabbed his wand at a pile of rags that lay in front of him, and it became clear that the fabric had been hiding two small children, bound tightly and looking up at the masked revellers with terror.

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To her surprise, Hermione found that Ginny's plan wasn't a bad one. As the days passed, she found that she was thinking about Malfoy less and less. She still felt an unmistakeable stab in her chest whenever she saw him, but as long as he wasn't in her direct line of sight she found that she was able to block him out of her mind. She started spending a lot of time outside, and had discovered that flying alone was a very good way of relaxing.

One bright Saturday, long before most of her house was awake, she slipped outside and grabbed a broom from the school shed. The sun had just finished its slow rise, and the ground was crisp with frost underneath her feet. She took a deep breath in, enjoying the fresh smell of the morning air. She pushed off, and it was only once she was in the air that she realised she hadn't thought once about Malfoy since waking up. She hadn't come out here to clear her mind; she had come out because she was starting to truly enjoy flying. It was a strange feeling, for a girl who had been terrified of brooms just six months ago.

She flew lazily over the Forbidden Forrest, turning in wide arcs and occasionally dipping close to the trees, brushing the topmost leaves with her feet. She laughed out loud, and urged the broom higher again. Finally, a glance at the sky told her that it was probably time to go back in for breakfast, and she turned reluctantly to fly back towards the school.

Feeling content, and completely at peace with the world, she put the broom back in the school shed. Suddenly, she was face to face with Draco Malfoy, putting his own broom away, and her calmness shattered in an instant. It was a struggle, but she managed to keep her expression neutral as she walked past him. "You fly, Granger?"

He sounded so casual, like he hadn't broken her heart and betrayed her, and she wanted to hex him into oblivion. Instead, she turned and gave him a cool smile. "Now and then," she replied, before making to walk away again.

But Malfoy wasn't going to let her go that easily. "Hold on, I'll walk back with you," he said eagerly.

Hermione was so taken aback by this easy, friendly persona that she actually waited for him while he put his own broom away. He looked oddly relieved when he came out of the shed and saw that she was waiting for him. Without a word, Hermione started to walk briskly towards the Castle. She would walk with him if she had to, but she wouldn't stoop to making conversation.

Malfoy wouldn't be so easily put off, though. He smiled genuinely in her direction, and glanced back towards the shed, on the edge of the Quidditch pitch. "I always thought you hated it," he said.

"Nick taught me," she replied tightly after a long pause.

He nodded. "So have you played any Quidditch at all, or is it just the flying so far?"

"Flying." With any luck, he would pick up on her reticence and realise that she had no interest in talking with him.

Unfortunately for her, he seemed either unable or unwilling to pick up on the hint. "Are you interested in Quidditch? Maybe we could set up a friendly game, some time."

"No, thank you." She kept her eyes trained on the entrance to the castle. He would leave her alone as soon as they reached the school, she was sure. He wouldn't risk his reputation by being seen with a Gryffindor.

"You should think about it," he said. "If you like flying, you'll love Quidditch. You'd probably make a good chaser." He left a pause then said, "You're good with balls, after all." She shot him a look of pure venom at that, but he just grinned good-naturedly. "I couldn't resist," he said apologetically. "But I mean it about Quidditch. You're missing out on a good opportunity. People never really understand the pure joy of flying until they've done it in some sort of competitive capacity."

They had reached the entrance hall, and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. "OK," she said rigidly. "I'm going to have breakfast now."

Again, Draco's face lit up with a sincere smile. "Me too," he said. "I'll walk you to the Great Hall."

He continued to chatter about Quidditch and flying, seemingly oblivious to the incredulous stares they were getting from other people in the corridors. When they finally reached the Great Hall and had to part ways to go to their individual house tables, he waved cheerily to her. "See you later," he called out. "Have a think about the Quidditch game, OK?"

Hermione nodded, feeling dazed, and slid into an empty seat at the Gryffindor table. She knew Draco had several facets to his personality, but this was one she had never dreamed existed. He had been so friendly and easy-going. She thought back over the conversation, and couldn't remember a single snide or sarcastic comment crossing his lips, excluding the balls remark. Even that had seemed light-hearted and playful. She shook her head, and stared at him across the hall in amazement.

Ron and Harry joined her shortly after she had sat down. "Where were you this morning?" Harry asked. "Lavender said you were gone before any of them had even woken up."

Hermione shrugged. "I was out flying," she said vaguely, still gazing in Malfoy's direction.

Harry choked on his pumpkin juice, and Ron burst out laughing. "You – you were flying?" Ron spluttered, grinning. "Good one, Hermione. We all know you hate brooms more than Snape hates Gryffindors."

"I don't," Hermione protested. "I've been going out flying recently." She had been keeping it quiet from other people, though. She had been afraid of causing exactly this kind of reaction. If it hadn't been for the fact that she had been distracted by Draco, she wouldn't have mentioned it at that moment either.

"Brilliant," Ron said, smacking his hand on the table. "Hermione Granger goes flying for fun." His raucous laughter subsided into chuckles, and Hermione's expression grew indignant.

"Yes, that's right. I'm quite good at it, as a matter of fact."

Ron didn't notice the edge to Hermione's voice, and seemed to think this was an elaborate joke she was playing. "I'm sure you are. Maybe we should all have a game of Quidditch one day. Would you prefer seeker or beater?" he collapsed into giggles again, making Hermione frown.

"Actually, Draco Malfoy suggested we have a game earlier," she said clearly, raising her voice. "I'm thinking of taking him up on the offer." She wasn't thinking anything of the sort, of course, but she couldn't help goading Ron.

The chatter at the Gryffindor table stopped abruptly, and Hermione flushed as she realised all eyes were on her. Harry was staring at her open-mouthed. Ron stopped laughing, and shook his head. "Don't even joke about something like that, Hermione. You'll bring Slytherin bad luck down on us all," he said with mock horror.

Harry chuckled, and Hermione smiled reluctantly. "Well, stop laughing at me, then. I have been going out flying a bit recently, and I don't think I'm too bad."

"Seriously?" Ron asked dubiously.

"Yes," Hermione replied in an exasperated tone. "I'm not completely useless, you know." She laughed at his sceptical expression and stood up. "I'm going to the library. I'll see you later."

As she walked towards the door, Draco stood and walked quickly to catch up with her. "Did you mean it when you said you were thinking of having a game with me?" he asked hopefully.

She glanced over at him and rolled her eyes. "No, I didn't. Shouldn't you be getting back to your table before the rest of Slytherin lynch you for talking to a Gryffindor?"

Draco looked over his shoulder at his house table and shrugged. "Like I care what they think. I like you, Hermione. I realised just how much over Christmas. So what if I lose my family and friends because of it?"

They had reached the corridor now, and Hermione turned to face him. "Do you know; I just don't believe a word you say anymore. I can't think why." She raised an eyebrow and turned to walk away.

"I'm not giving up, Hermione. I don't care if I have to wear red and gold for a year before you trust me again. I'll do whatever it takes."

Hermione shook her head disbelievingly. "You're playing some kind of angle, Malfoy. I forgot who you were for a while last term, but I've remembered now. I know who you are, and it's not the kind of person I'm interested in."

She left him alone in the corridor, and he sighed in frustration. His father was most definitely not going to be happy with him.

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Despite her offhand dismissal of it, Hermione couldn't help but wonder what had caused this abrupt change in Draco's personality. She was sure he had to be tricking her in some way, but she couldn't think what it could be. She said as much to Ginny that afternoon, having found a secluded spot in the courtyard where they could talk in private. "I assumed he was just playing a game with me, making me fall in love with him so he could reject me. But he already did that, so I don't understand what he wants this time."

Ginny shrugged. "Maybe he was telling the truth when he said he missed you." Hermione raised her eyebrows doubtfully. "I know, it doesn't sound like Malfoy. But you never know what love might do to people. If he really does love you..." she trailed off and shrugged again.

"I know," Hermione said softly. She was quiet for a long time then, and Ginny said nothing, allowing her time to think. "Do you know what I wish?" Ginny shook her head, and waited. "I just wish I could trust him. I could cope with everything else – his family, him being a Slytherin, the way Harry and Ron might react, even the fact that he's generally an arsehole –everything. But I can't be with him if I can't trust him." She punched the root of the tree that they were leaning against. "It's so fucking unfair," she said violently.

"You need to talk to him," Ginny said gently. "Tell him how you feel."

"I did that, remember? And it ended badly." Hermione shook her head. "It's typical, isn't it? I spend a month trying to get him out of my head, and just when I think I've succeeded, he slithers back in again."

Hermione's eyes filled with tears that she angrily blinked away, and Ginny silently put her arms around her friend and hugged her tightly.