Okay, so school's up and running, so most of my writing is being done on the weekends. Sadly (or not so sadly for me) I celebrated my 18th birthday a few weeks back, meaning that whole weekend disappeared without much of a chance to write. But here's the chapter, enjoy it while it lasts! ;)
The flames crackled homily in the grand fireplace of white stone, casting its warm light over the room and banning the chill from the air even as it tried to invade through the windows, a clouded and drenched autumn waiting on the other side of the glass. The room was dominated by the king-sized bed that stood against the wall opposite of the fireplace, its four posters reaching towards the ceiling, intricate snakes carved into the dark wood of the headboard and footboard, the miniature scales gleaming golden in the light of the fire.
The Dark Lord crossed the room with long strides, a dirty and bloodied boy in his arms, too thin and too pail to be healthy, the dark shadows under his closed eyes speaking of a long, stressful time without proper rest. Voldemort was known for his cruelty, his incapability of feeling empathy, but there was nothing but gentleness in his movements as he put the weakened figure on the bed, letting the frail body rest on the creamy silk sheets and the luxurious bedspread in calming greens. Swishing his feared wand over the form of the unconscious teen, Tom lifted the glamour that hid his true appearance, revealing a slighter physique with thin limbs and black, unruly hair that spread over the pillow in stark contrast to the light colouring of the pillowcase. The sight of the frail-looking boy turned the warmth in the Dark Lord's chest into heat as he had never harboured any feelings for the glamour, always seeing it as a necessary evil that hid the true features of his little vampire.
Wanting to see the electric emeralds open again, he once again aimed his wand at the boy and ended the magical sleep, causing a groan to slip between chapped lips, the soft face grimacing in pain as the boy regained awareness. Tom leaned over the boy, making the soft mattress shift as he steadied himself with a hand just beside the boy's bony shoulder, and when the emerald eyes blinked open he stared straight into their pained depths and found a mindless wildness staring back, the vampire in the boy having taken control as reality was too much for the boy to handle. The pupil shrunk to a tiny black dot as his eyes were unused to the golden light filling the room, and he hissed angrily as he squinted to shade his eyes. The thin form suddenly seemed to kick to life as his upper body rose and he reached up with both hands to grab at Tom's neck, his lips parted and fangs extended, the need to feed centred in his mind now that his human mindset was pushed aside.
Vampire or not, the boy was still incredibly weak after the treatment in Azkaban and Tom could grab his bony wrists in one hand to restrain him without really putting in any effort, his other hand placed on the narrow chest below him to push the boy back against the pillows. Writhing and squirming, the boy tried to free himself while hissing and spitting, and Tom watched with a dark and heavy feeling in his chest that he vaguely recognized as having felt a very long time ago, but the meaning of it was now forgotten. There was something about it that resembled pain, but he could not understand why he would be pained when it was the boy on the bed who was physically injured.
"Hush," he mumbled, unsure of where the gentle and softly spoken word came from, but it felt somewhat right. "Hush, Harry, hush."
Something akin to recognition flashed through those wild eyes at the mention of the his name, but it was gone again just a quickly and the trashing continued even as it was obvious how taxing it was for the boy, black hair plastered to his scarred forehead, his face shiny with sweat and his breathing irregular and laboured. Removing his hand from the heaving chest, Tom replaced it on the damp forehead, just letting his hand rest there without applying any pressure, a slight touch of closeness. Those beautifully emerald eyes widened for a moment, a rush of air leaving the boy in a gasp and Tom found himself smiling.
Of course, vampires were sensitive to human closeness.
Leaning further down Tom let their chests touch, providing more of the closeness and warmth that his little vampire so sorely needed. The tense body beneath him slowly relaxed against its will and a soft moan escaped to vibrate through the room.
"That's right, Harry" Tom mumbled, removing his hand and replacing it with his own forehead so that emeralds stared straight into ruby, the electric light in those wild orbs brighter then ever at the close proximity. "That's my good little vampire."
The hissings had stopped, his lips still slightly parted to show elongated canines, wild eyes now slightly calmed, darting back and forth as they tried to focus on both of Tom's rubies at the same time. The narrow chest heaved as he breathed deeply, pressing against Tom's stronger torso only to fall back again as he breathed out. The simple evidence of closeness to another living being overwhelmed the mighty Dark Lord, making him want to squeeze the boy hard to himself, to mark him and let the world know who he belonged to so that he could never leave, to claim him as his and his alone. Tilting his head down and to the side he placed a light kiss to the fluttering pulse that immediately seemed to quicken, making him unable to resist the impulse to suck hard and nibble slightly to leave a blushing mark as evidence of his ownership, the action drawing a deep moan from his little vampire. Pulling back a bit to admire his work, a satisfied smirk stretched his lips and he met the confused emeralds of the vampire, something new and unexpected swirling in their depts.
Submission.
The mere thought that the vampire in the boy would acknowledge him as its master and become obedient made the Dark Lord feel as if he was about to explode from all the emotions coming to life in his chest, and he dived down to lock his lips with the boy's chapped ones, dominating the kiss completely as he swept his tongue over chapped and dry lips before he poked into the warmth of his mouth, awaiting the boy's reaction. Emerald eyes stared at him in wide-eyed confusion and he gasped into the kiss, his lips separation further and Tom took the chance to run his tongue over the line of white teeth, causing the boy to moan.
The sound of pleasure sent shivers down Tom's spine and he found himself ashamed by the fact that he, as a feared Dark Lord, would lose his composure so easily, but as there was no one except his little vampire there to see he decided it did not matter at the moment. He pressed himself closer, his hand squeezing Harry's hands where he held them above the boy's head, his tongue stroking over the base of one of the sharp fangs before going down its length. Feeling the pointed end he hesitantly drew his tongue away to safety but quickly stopped himself, the thought of having his own blood flow through his little vampire filling his mind as the ultimate claiming, a way to inject a piece of himself and making the boy his.
Returning to the fang he stroked it a few times, making the boy moan again, his little vampire otherwise mostly unresponsive as if his exhausted mind and body were overwhelmed by the onslaught of stimulation. Moving his tongue downwards, Tom deliberately pierced it on the tip, causing his tongue to sting a bit, a fat bead of blood emerging. The reaction was immediate as Harry gasped before giving a needy moan, his body arching up against Tom as he sealed his lips around the offered tongue and sucked hard, greedily drawing blood and gulping it down in a haste that made Tom worry he might choke, not a single drop spilled to waste.
Tom freed the captured hands in his grip and they were instantly put to good use, one tangling into his dark locks to keep his head in place, the other on the back of his neck, making sure he didn't leave. Putting his own hands into motion, Tom let them travel over the warming body under his, stroking over shoulders, down arms and across chest with open palms, well aware of what his actions would have caused had his little vampire not been too exhausted.
The eager sucking soon slowed to a more languid pace as the worst of the thirst was taken care of by Tom's potent and strong blood. The boy would no doubt need more pretty soon as he was far from fully recovered, but what he needed now was healing and Tom wouldn't mind getting rid of the dirt and blood that smeared his little vampire. Bringing his hands up, he stroked a dirty cheek and put his other hand to the boy's throat, keeping him in place and showing who was in control as he started drawing back. At first the boy tried to keep his tongue trapped but he slowly relented, giving a few languid sucks of the muscle before he released it and let Tom pull back.
Emerald eyes were clouded and sleepy, the thin body resting heavily on the soft sheets and his breath coming in slight pants. Tom continued stroking his face, now bringing both his hands into play, their bodies still pressed close together as his little vampire soaked up the warmth of human closeness. Eyelids became heavy and slipped shut, breathing evened out and deepened, and Tom placed a soft kiss to his little vampire's forehead, his thumb stroking over the mark he had left on the boy's neck as Harry drifted off to the sleep of the exhausted.
Straightening to sit on the edge of the mattress by the sleeping boy's side, he drew his wand and waved it over the boy, throwing a cleaning charm. He would much rather have given Harry a real bath and scrubbed him with soap but had to prioritize resting, so charms would have to suffice for the moment. The dirt and blood immediately disappeared along with the sweat, baring slightly tanned skin, his face pale after the ordeal he'd lived through, the clumps in his hair now gone to let the black stands spread more freely over the pillow.
Even though he was now clean, his body was still littered with bruises, cuts and wounds that he hadn't had the energy to heal, most of them now half-closed and none bleeding, but they were still there, blemishing his skin as a cruel reminder that Tom had been unable to protect his little vampire. Frowning, Voldemort leaned forward to put the tip of his wand against a small cut over a cheek, healing it until flawless skin was all that remained. He continued with the rest of the wounds he could see, no matter how small and insignificant, all of them were vanquished until all bared skin was once again unbroken. He then proceeded to strip Harry of his clothes, the torn tatters that remained of his shirt so that he could vanquish the blemishes on his narrow chest and the pants with the many holes to heal the injuries on his legs.
The dirty rags were levitated into the fire where they burned to ashes as Tom tried to burn the guilt he had yet to identify, still one of the many unfamiliar feelings that Harry evoked in him. Not wanting to let a single reminder remain, he even transfigured the boxers to a pair of grey sweatpants before he was satisfied with the result.
Seeing Harry lay there on the bed, resting after his many wounds had been healed, made Tom recall when his little vampire first had been taken to his mansion, a newly turned vampire and not yet fully in Voldemort's grasp. The wounds had not bothered the Dark Lord remarkably at the time, but it was different now, not at all the same, because now Harry was his and no one had the right to dirty or break what belonged to him.
After having pulled up the soft sheets and the bedspread over the sleeping boy, he shrugged off his black outer robe and moved further up on the bed to lay down on top of the bedspread beside his little vampire. Putting an arm over the thin waist he pulled the boy close to his chest and put his chin atop black, messy hair. Feeling that his little vampire was still slightly cold he summoned an afghan from where it hung over the back of the divan by the fire and put it to rest over the end of the bed to provide extra warmth for Harry's legs and feet where Tom wouldn't reach as effectively with his warmth.
"Hmmn," the sleeping boy voiced, a murmur of appreciation coming over his lips and he snuggled closer to press himself into Tom's embrace, the vampire in him seeking warmth and his weary mind seeking comfort, both of which Tom readily provided.
With the knowledge that his little vampire was safe in his arms, Tom let himself follow Harry into the land of the sleeping.
XXX
It was Tuesday morning, one of many at Hogwarts, mainly no different from the multiple Tuesday mornings she'd already passed by in the halls and corridors of the old castle. Her dorm mates were the same, Lavender being her same insufferable self, the common room looking just like it always had except for some third year sleeping in an armchair with his cheek pressed against his transfiguration essay and ink stains on the nose. Her timetable looked the same, her shoulder bag was as packed with books as always and as far as she knew the same buffet of a breakfast would be served, the same students would sit by the four tables and the same teachers would watch over them from their own table.
Yet this morning wasn't the same because she was waiting, a feeling of suspense making her tense and edgy, her mood not helped by the fact that she'd been too stressed to be able to sleep properly the previous night, the evidence visible under her eyes as dark shadows. Her sleeplessness had woken her earlier then ever that morning, her anxious mind forcing her out of bed as she couldn't handle just lying there, impassive and without doing anything. After having showered, dressed and combed her hair into something akin to tameness it was still too early for breakfast to be served in the Great Hall, causing her to steer her steps through the silent and sleeping corridors to the kitchen hidden behind the painting of the giggling pear. The diligent house elves were clearly surprised to see her as it couldn't be usual for students to turn up at such an early hour, but they were no less happy to please her and for once she was too tired to protest or propagate freedom and equality.
She'd left the kitchen with a toast with orange marmalade in one hand, a cup of smoking hot tea in the other and her pockets stuffed with cinnamon rolls and other pastries she had no intention of putting anywhere near her mouth. Finding a secluded corner she'd decided to camp in a window recess overlooking the wet grounds surrounding Hogwarts, the Black Lake living up to its name as it reflected the dark clouds emptying their heavy burden over the world, the trees of the Forbidden Forest swaying in the wind and rain hammered rhythmically against the window panes.
Now, and hour after she'd first taken a seat on the floor she still sat huddled with her cape pulled tightly around her to ward against the chill of the morning, her toast and tea long since gone, her pockets emptied of pastries even thought she'd though wasn't going to eat them, the sugar sticky but sweet as it clung to her teeth. The tempus she'd cast a few minutes ago had shown that breakfast had been served but it was still about forty minutes until her first class would start.
It felt as if she had nothing to do, nowhere to go, and the tense feeling filling her chest was too much for her to contain, making it feel as if she was about to explode at any moment. Biting her lip and squeezing her eyes shut, she let her head fall back against the rough stone as she tried to suppress her explosive emotions, knowing she would snap soon if she didn't put a lock on them to keep them hidden away.
It scared her, having so many feelings pent up and not knowing what she would do if she released them.
A hand landed on her shoulder and she startled in chock, literarily jumping as her head snapped to the side, brown eyes impossibly wide as she stared at the Slytherin kneeling beside her, aristocratic features framed by pale hair and silver eyes seemingly filled with stars. For a distracted moment she thought there was something strange with those eyes, as if there was something important missing, something that had always been there and that she'd never expected to go away.
Disgust.
Disdain.
Arrogance.
Instead she found an unexpected softness, almost concern, and a kind of recognition, acknowledgement of what they shared.
She had always told herself that she didn't care for what Malfoy thought about her, that she didn't hear the foul words they'd shouted after her, but each time she'd heard, each time she'd seen their looks she'd felt pain and sadness, but she had denied it, learned to disregard it to make her life easier. Now she felt greatly relieved that those feelings were gone from Malfoy's eyes, and she felt light as if she could suddenly breathe unhindered again.
"I've talked to Severus," Malfoy said silently and her attention immediately snapped back into focus, the tense feeling making itself reminded in her chest, getting stronger the very moment those words left Malfoy's lips.
"He said they got him out yesterday night."
Brown eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat, the tenseness in her chest dissipating into a feeling of warmth.
"Voldemort came for him?" she whispered, not caring when Malfoy paled at the mention of the feared name.
"Yes," he croaked out and quickly cleared his throat to appear unfazed. "The Dark Lord saved him and is currently taking care of him at his mansion."
"Can we see him?" Hermione asked, leaning forwards in her eagerness, getting closer to the ferret then she even though she would want to be.
"No," he answered regretfully, shaking his head, obviously having asked the question himself. He didn't seem to notice their close proximity, and if he did, he didn't seem to mind. "Severus said that Elijah had to get better first as he is in a rather bad condition, but even when he is fully recovered he could not promise anything even to me. And since you're a muggleborn…"
He trailed off, leaving the end of the sentence unvoiced, but Hermione nodded, sitting back a bit to put distance between them again, understanding and suddenly rudely reminded of the differences between them. Of course, now that Elijah was no longer at Hogwarts her chances would be very slim of meeting him since she would have to put herself into immense danger only to approach him. If the Dark Lord was even close, it was unlikely that she would survive…
The hand that had been left on her shoulder squeezed slightly, and she focused her attention on Malfoy again.
"We'll fix something," he said reassuringly, a serious look in his eyes. "You're Elijah's friend as well, after all."
Brown eyes searched silver ones but all she could find was sincerity, and so she let a slight, wavering smile touch her lips as hope flickered in her eyes.
XXX
The slight smile still played on Hermione's lips when she walked for her first class of the day, her chest feeling light and her shoulder bag a reassuring weight as it bumped against her hip at every step she took. The students who'd been quick to leave breakfast were starting to populate the corridors with her, some wearing tired and resigned looks, others looking determined or interested, depending on if the person appreciated school or not.
But today there was something different, something standing out from the normality of most mornings at Hogwarts. Usually, the first students walking through the corridors were alone, in a few cases walking in pairs, the studious part of the student body who prioritized books before socializing. But today, every student she saw was walking with someone, small groups of students on their way to class, looking around with a shadow of fear in their eyes as if they expected someone to jump out behind the next corner and attack. When they saw her they frowned and looked at her strangely, seemingly wondering how she dared walk alone and why ever she could be smiling. The open speculation and spreading of rumours had been silenced, the loud questions for answered reduced to hushed whispers as if the scared students were afraid of being heard, as if they thought whatever they talked about would become true if voiced aloud.
Hermione frowned, speeding up her pace a bit on her way towards the classroom, thoughts whirling about in her head. Something must have happened at breakfast, the meal in the Great Hall being the only explanation as the Great Hall was the only place where news could travel fast enough between the four houses, but the question of what had happened still remained. From the fearful looks the students wore she could easily conclude that it was something serious, but she could not imagine what that would be, and if there was something she hated, it was not knowing.
When she arrived at the classroom she had gained such speed that she slid through the door, skidding to a stop a few metres in. It was still about fifteen minutes until their class was scheduled to start, and she was therefore surprised to find Neville sitting by one of the benches, especially since he was alone when no one else seemed to want to be without company. His round face was unhealthily pale and his eyes wide with a hollowness in them that Hermione never would have thought the good-natured boy could ever express. His back was stiff and his eyes stared blindly straight forward, a copy of what seemed to be the Daily Prophet crumbled in his harsh grip, as if the paper was the cause of his misery.
"Neville?" she asked softly, making the boy jump in his seat as he was startled by her presence.
"H- Hermione?" he stammered uncertainly, surprised but also pained eyes turning to her where she lingered by the door, her hair in wild disarray from her march.
"Has anything happened?" she inquired, wondering what could have awoken the pain in the eyes of her clumsy friend and temporarily forgetting that she had been seeking for answers to what could have happened to change the other students' behaviour so drastically.
Wide eyes blinked, disbelief seeping into them as he swallowed thickly. "You… You don't know?"
Hermione shook her head, and an expression of confusion and surprise crossing his round face before he loosened his grip on the wrinkled paper and handed it towards her. She crossed the room and took the paper from his hand, smoothing the worst wrinkles to make it readable as she held it up in front of her to read the headline.
HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED IS BACK
XXX
The air was crisp and the blue sky clear, the sun warming the students where they sat in the grass with parchment and quill at hand, working more or less diligently under the supervision of professor Grubbly-Plank, quite a few taking the chance to lay back and enjoy the sun when her back was turned. Hermione herself lay comfortably on her belly in the vividly green grass, distractedly kicking her heals back and forth as she read through the pages about Bowtruckles a third time to see if there was anything she had missed that needed to be added to her sketch, neat paragraphs surrounding the simple picture of the stick-like creature. Ron, Seamus and Dean were a few meters away, having discarded their half finished sketches in favor of tumbling around in a mock fight.
The heavy atmosphere of the morning had lifted a bit, most students behaving their usual self as they were reminded of the fact that they were in Hogwarts under the protection of Dumbledore, making them feel safe as the threat and danger was kept outside of the castle grounds. The biggest change that remained was that the Gryffindors had more suspicion in their eyes then ever before when looking at the Slytherins with which they shared the class, the students in green looking unfazed and unsurprised by what had happened. Of course, most of them had been aware from the very beginning that Voldemort was back, so for them it was most likely unsurprising that the Dark Lord could accomplish a breakout. Those who were most chocked were, after all, those who'd believed the Daily Prophet instead of Harry and Dumbledore, those who'd stubbornly refused to believe that Voldemort had returned.
"Okay, class, the lesson is over!" professor Grubbly-Plank stated, drawing everyone's attention and delighted sighs from a few. "Those who have yet to finish their sketch and description of the Bowtruckle will get it as homework for next week."
The announcement was met by groans, especially laud ones coming from Ron who lay defeated under Seamus, and Hermione rolled her eyes in turn. Did he really believe he wouldn't have to do the assignment simply because he neglected working during classes?
She quickly broke that train of thought, however, as she spotted platinum blonde hair moving in the periphery of her sight. Hastily gathering her parchment and stuffing her things into her already full shoulder bag, she practically jumped up from her position and hurried after the retreating forms of the Slytherins.
"Malfoy!" she shouted, hoping to stop them so that she wouldn't have to run, and she was surprised when the blonde actually paused and halfway turned towards her, his brows lifted in question. The other Slytherins around him looked down at her in dislike, save for Malfoy's closest friends who'd also been close to Harry, as they had grown too used to her presence to care about her status as a muggleborn.
"I'd like to talk to you," she said as soon as she was close enough to be heard without having to shout. "Privately," she added with a glance at the others.
Draco hesitated, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, glancing at his friends before giving a short nod and turning completely to the Gryffindor girl, showing that he was willing to talk. Nodding as answer, perhaps as thanks, perhaps in some sort of agreement, Hermione led him away from the others, towards the castle of Hogwarts until they reached a small, private courtyard with a tree breaking through the flagstones in the middle of the round area, its green leaves fading to a pale yellow, a few fallen leaves already resting on the ground. The courtyard was located in a corner of the castle, part of two castle walls enclosing the yard on one side, the other side closed off by high evergreen hedges that shielded them from view and effectively hid the yards existence.
Hermione walked over to the old stone bench placed against the castle wall, the rough stone of the castle serving as backrest, the old stone of the bench smooth and worn after many years of the weather's insistent polishing, warmed by the sun that barely seemed to reach over the hedges. Malfoy leaned back against the trunk of the tree, a stray hair of silver falling into his eyes only to be pushed back again with a practiced motion of the hand. Due to the size of the yard, they were only a couple of metres from each other, a comfortable distance that was neither reserved nor intimate.
"What did you want to talk about, Granger?" Malfoy asked, not unkindly but without any real warmth in his tone. It was as if they were neither friends nor enemies, as if they'd ended up somewhere in an unnamed borderland.
"The breakout," she began, her brown eyes searching starlight ones for a reaction. "You only said Elijah had been saved – did you know about the others as well?"
The Slytherin shook his head as answer, and Hermione found herself somewhat surprised that he actually did answer her, that he didn't evade the question or gave some biting retort instead. She realized she still didn't trust him, and immediately decided she needed to change that perception, at least partly so that she would be able to trust him with normal conversation and information.
"All I knew when we talked this morning was what Snape had told me," Malfoy assured calmly. "It wasn't until later, when I saw the Prophet, that I was informed of the others' escape."
Hermione found herself relieved that Malfoy had been completely honest to her when they'd talked that morning, relieved that he hadn't kept any information from her, and she felt a slight smile curve her lips and her gaze warm a bit as she looked at the blonde. It felt good to know that there was someone she could talk to as she hadn't really had anyone to confide in since Harry had left, Ron being her only close remaining friend but they were growing apart, the vast differences between them becoming more obvious then ever now that Harry was no longer there to work as a filter between them. Before the school year had started they'd grown closer in they shared worry for Harry, but when they'd arrived at Hogwarts, Ron had favoured the company of Seamus and Dean, only talking to Hermione when he was reminded of her existence. His behaviour towards "Elijah" and the fact that Hermione knew the truth of what had happened to Harry pushed them further apart, and bushy-haired girl didn't think they would ever be able to go back to the way things used to be.
"I must admit I breathed a sigh of relief when the Prophet didn't mention Elijah," Malfoy said, making Hermione refocus her attention on the conversation. "It would have made it clear of his alliances and our work at spreading word of his innocence would have been for nought."
"Do you have any idea as to why they didn't? I imagine it would make a good story; Hogwarts student turning out to be a vampire, not to mention being important enough to Voldemort to be saved from Azkaban."
"I can't be sure but I have a guess," the Slytherin said with a shrug, a gesture Hermione found uncharacteristic for the usually so proud and poised Malfoy heir. "By law, Elijah should have been killed for being a vampire, so it would not look too good if he was granted a lifetime in Azkaban instead of the death penalty. Therefore, I would not be surprised if he was never even registered as a prisoner, meaning no one but the guards on duty were aware that he was there – the very same guards who are now dead."
Hermione nodded, silently agreeing that it was a plausible theory and not feeling the least bit of doubt that their society was corrupted enough for something like that to happen.
"Our authorities really are worthless," she voiced her thoughts aloud, her brown eyes lost as she gazed blindly at the evergreen hedges. "Dumbledore and Harry warned them already last year that Voldemort had returned. Had they only listened, they wouldn't have been taken aback by this, they could have prepared and the chaos that is sure to break out could have been avoided." She practically spat the words, her tone full of dislike with a hint of disgust, her brown eyes narrowed.
Malfoy watched her quietly, impassively, keeping his thoughts on the matter to himself. Hermione shook her head, wondering why it had taken her so long to realize that their society needed to change. Voldemort's way of changing it might be wrong, his very goals and reasons to change were wrong, but he was right in the fact that change was needed. And maybe, just maybe, Voldemort's way of doing it was the only way with a possibility to succeed – and Hermione knew just how forbidden such thoughts were.
She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, cleansing her mind of all thoughts, well aware that she would have to think of the matter and reach a decision fairly soon, but unwilling to do so at the moment. It was too important, too life changing, too… big. For once she could agree with the saying "ignorance is bliss", a saying she had always detested but now saw the benefits of. Had she not known that Dumbledore wasn't the man she'd thought him to be, had Harry not joined Voldemort, had everything been the same… Well, then everything would have been the same, and she would have been blissfully unaware that what she took for fact value might not be true at all.
Shaking her head resolutely she efficiently pushed the thoughts to the back of her mind and stood from the stone bench, noticing that Malfoy was looking at her with something she couldn't identify sparkling in his silver eyes. She took a deep breath and answered his look with a slightly shaky smile, feeling as if she wanted to assure him that she was okay even thought he most likely didn't care.
"Are you okay, Granger?"
Hermione blinked in surprise, barely stopping her yaw from slackening in shock as the words she'd just dismissed as impossible left the Malfoy heir.
"I'm… fine. Just fine," she answered and renewed her hesitant smile, feeling it widen a bit now that the blonde had shown tendencies of caring. "Just a bit much to think about, that's all."
Malfoy gave a simple nod before turning away from her to leave the hidden yard, but he paused in his retreat and glanced at her over his shoulder, silver hair gaining a golden touch from the sunlight.
As no words came from the silent form, Hermione smiled amusedly and said the words herself.
"I guess I'll see you around?"
Those words were most likely not the words Malfoy would have spoken, they were far too informal and simple. No, he would have said something that made him sound like a true aristocrat, something formal and pompous, but Hermione was quite sure it would still have meant largely the same thing.
"Of course, Granger," Malfoy answered with a slight smile and nodded to her before he walked through the narrow and concealed path between the bushes, disappearing from view. Hermione stayed in the little courtyard for a while, a silly little smile on her lips as she stood in the shadow of the tree, breathing in the cool autumn air. When she did leave the hidden yard, she felt at ease, knowing that she had a difficult and important decision to make but filled with the perhaps faulty knowledge that she didn't have to take care of it right now. For a moment she could allow herself to relax, she would push all problems aside of a later date and enjoy the wonderful day.
Her care freeness didn't survive long however, as she was approached by an irate redhead as soon as she entered the Great Hall, his face red and his eyes narrowed in anger as he stomped towards her with his fists clenched at his sides. At the sight of him she felt herself growing defensive, her eyes narrowing and a frown furrowing her brows. Whatever did he want now?
"What do you think you're doing?" Ron hissed angrily as soon as he was close enough, coming to a halt no more then a step away from her, his finger pointed at her accusingly.
"Whatever are you talking about, Ron?" she answered, her irritation clear in her voice.
"With the ferret!" he exclaimed loudly, making people turn to look at them in interest, a few already leaning towards their friends and whispering.
"His name is Malfoy!" she answered angrily, not sure why she was defending the Slytherin against her own friend but feeling the anger burn hotly in her chest at Ron's mockery.
"You just run away with him to Merlin knows where even though you know that he's a follower of You-Know-Who! What if he'd done something to you?" Ron continued, acting as if he hadn't even heard Hermione.
"Done something? Done what exactly, Ron? Do you think he would kill me for being a muggleborn? Cast a Cruciatus at me and watch me suffer? Can you really think such things of him when he is a fellow student, no different from us?"
"No different? No different? How can you claim something like that knowing he is a Death Eater?"
"Well, last time you claimed someone was a Death Eater it was Elijah you attacked, was it not? And what happened to him? He saved your sorry arse! If it hadn't been for him you would have been dead!"
"So what? He was still nothing but a bloody beast!"
The beat of a fist connecting with skin sounded through the silent hall as Ron staggered back a few steps, staring at her in shock as he slowly lifted his hand to his split lip, flinching as his fingers probed the wound before staring at the blood in disbelief, unable to comprehend that Hermione had punched him.
The Gryffindor girl stood before him, her jaw set and her back stiff as her clenched fist trembled by her side, barely able to contain the rage coursing through her veins.
"I cannot believe I have called such a narrow-minded and ungrateful prick my friend," she said quietly, her words barely above a whisper yet carrying through the hall with ease as there were no other sounds to drown them.
Turning to the side, meaning to leave the hall to find some kind of vent for her anger, she happened to lock eyes with a pair of star-filled orbs sitting by the wall. They stared at each other for several long moments that seemed to stretch into eternity, silent communication they didn't fully understand passing between them before Malfoy scooted to the side, leaving a spot on the bench beside him. In the heat of the moment, Hermione did something she very seldom did – she took a decision before thinking it through properly, letting her anger decide for her.
Glancing at Ron, she hissed "I'm through with you," and walked over the Slytherin table as every student in the Great Hall stared to see the muggleborn Gryffindor claim a seat between the proud Malfoy heir and the Slytherin Queen Parkinsson. As she sat down her eyes sought Ron where he stood between the doors leading to the Entrance Hall and the end of the Gryffindor table with an enraged look on his features, and she felt a smile of dark satisfaction curl her lips.
Perhaps she did not always have to think so much before making decisions.
That's it!
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