Chapter 17: The House Cup

Hours later, the hospital wing doors clanged shut behind Hermione and she broke into a run. Panic was rising like bile in her throat and threatening to seize control of her limbs, but she held it off by concentrating extremely hard on what she had to do. She must find Professor McGonagall, and then she must go to the owlery. Two simple steps, and then it would all be over. However, she'd scarcely rounded the corner toward the grand staircase when something caught her shoulder. She recoiled at once, heart hammering, searching frantically for the source, but try as she might, she couldn't see anything.

"Who's there?" she demanded, doing her best to sound firm and intimidating. Quite suddenly, Draco appeared out of thin air in front of her. Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin.

"I knew it!" he exclaimed, eyes alight. "Are you stupid, or just completely mental?"

"Where-what-how did you do that?" she demanded breathlessly, willing her heartbeat to slow.

"I'm not telling," he said obstinately. "I told you not to go down there." She opened her mouth to insist, but shook her head and cleared her throat.

"Well, as long as you're here, do something useful," she said briskly. "Find Professor McGonagall and tell her Harry's gone after him-she'll know what it means. I've got to get to the owlery." To Hermione's surprise and extreme annoyance, Draco rolled his eyes.

"Don't try to be coy with me," he snapped. "Any idiot would know what that means. And I don't have to fetch McGonagall, she's already on her way." Hermione frowned, startled.

"What?"

"Yeah. And if you're on your way to send an owl to Dumbledore, don't bother. He's probably already back by now, and I'm sure he knows everything." Not for the first time this evening, Hermione found herself completely stunned.

"How on earth d'you know all of this?" she asked, after a moment.

"Because I came out here to try and stop you," Draco told her, and for the first time, he sounded a bit sheepish. "But I ran into McGonagall and Snape. I knew I was too late because they were obviously really panicked about something. They didn't even punish me for being out, just told me to go back to bed and ran off. I overheard McGonagall telling Snape she hoped Dumbledore was on his way, and then I reckoned you'd probably end up here so I came up to wait." It took Hermione a few moments to make sense of everything Draco had said, but soon, something struck her.

"Hang on-you said you ran into McGonagall...and Snape?" Draco looked slightly confused.

"Yeah, why-" he broke off, and his face cleared. "Oh, for god's sake, not this again! I told you from the beginning it wasn't Snape, and if anything, this proves it." Hermione felt the icy tendrils of dread worm their way into the pit of her stomach.

"Draco...if Snape is with McGonagall...then who's down the trapdoor with Harry?" For a split second, Draco's expression shifted from confusion to mild panic, then cleared as he shook his head slightly.

"Does it matter? I mean, he's being rescued, isn't he?"

"Yes, but from who?" Hermione insisted. Draco made an exasperated sound in his throat.

"Who cares?" he snapped. "What are you going to do, run off and try to save him yourself?"

"Well, of course not, but-"

"Then for once, just let someone else handle it!" Draco interrupted. "You've already risked your life once, isn't that enough?" He looked more afraid than annoyed now, and Hermione was struck by a sudden jab of affection for him. After their ill-fated adventure in the Forbidden Forest, sneaking out at night could hardly have been a decision he made lightly; he'd only have done it for something extremely important.

"You didn't go back to bed," she said, in an entirely different tone. Draco looked at her as if she were insane.

"What?"
"After you ran into Snape and McGonagall, you knew we were being rescued. You could've gone back to bed, so why didn't you?" To her delight, the sheepish look returned, and he averted his eyes at once.

"I-I don't know." Hermione grinned.

"You were worried something would happen to me," she said softly, and the tinge of pink in Draco's cheeks gave her more joy than she'd felt all evening.

"No, I wasn't," he snapped. She giggled.

"You wanted to make sure I got out all right," she went on, relishing his obvious embarrassment.

"What if I did?" he muttered. "Shut up."

"Admit it," she said. "We're friends."

"Shut up." She grinned.

"Come on, I won't tell anyone," she teased. "Just admit it."

"Shut up!"

Hermione's laugh was cut short by a loud bang from overhead. They froze. To their horror, a moment later, the obnoxious voice of Peeves rang out somewhere above.

"Who's there?" he sang. "Know you're down there, even if I can't see you. Are you ghoulie or ghostie or wee student beastie?"

Hermione seized Draco's arm and shoved him unceremoniously behind a large statue of a one-eyed witch just as Peeves rounded the corner. They shrank back as far as they could go.

"Ought to call Filch, if someone's creeping around unseen," Peeves went on, and now Hermione could see him, floating overhead with a nasty grin on his face. Suddenly, Draco laid a hand on her shoulder and moved past her to the edge of the statue.

"Peeves," he hissed, in a low, raspy whisper. "The Bloody Baron has his own reasons for being invisible." This couldn't possibly work, but to Hermione's shock and delight, it did. At once, Peeves nearly fell out of the air.

"Pardon me, Your Bloodiness, Mr. Baron, Sir!" he cried. "Just Peevsie's little joke, Sir, meant no disrespect, Sir!"

"Leave this place at once," Draco went on. "Go to the Charms classroom, and remove all of the screws from the desks and chairs. You will bring them to me at sunrise." Peeves drew himself up to his fullest height and shot upward.

"Yes, of course, your Bloodiness!" he said, with a very enthusiastic salute. "Right away, Mr. Baron, Sir!" And he sped off down the corridor at top speed. Draco looked extremely pleased with himself.

"I can't believe I never thought to do that before!" he said incredulously. "I'll bet I could make Peeves do whatever I like, couldn't I?"

Hermione frowned slightly.

"Now he's going to wreck the Charms classroom, though," she said fretfully. Draco looked at her as if she'd suggested he stop breathing.

"So? It'll keep him occupied long enough for us to get out of here." Hermione shook her head.

"Poor Flitwick," she said ruefully.

"I've been meaning to get back at old Flitwick for those points he took off my last essay," Draco told her. She rolled her eyes.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Draco…"

"C'mon," said Draco. "Let's get to bed before we run into anyone else tonight." Hermione started to follow, then stopped. It felt profoundly wrong to go to bed, or even to leave this corridor, knowing that Harry was still in danger.

"I can't," she said flatly. Draco looked absolutely flabbergasted.

"What's the problem now?" he demanded. She hesitated, knowing he'd find her answer insane.

"I've got to wait for Harry," she said quietly. Predictably, Draco rolled his eyes.

"What is it with you? For the eight hundredth time, he's being rescued!"

"I know that!" she snapped. "I just-I've already left him down there. I couldn't sleep, not knowing whether he…" she trailed off. The possibilities running through her head were far too horrible to say aloud. Draco studied her intently for a few moments.

"You're unbelievable, d'you know that?" She rolled her eyes and moved past him, back out into the corridor.

"You've mentioned," she said shortly, and stifled a yawn. Suddenly, she was acutely aware that she hadn't been to bed, and gravity seemed to grow stronger than ever. She leaned against the wall next to the hospital wing door and slid down to sit on the cool stone floor. After a moment, Draco joined her.

"This is ridiculous," he said darkly. "You do know this is ridiculous, don't you?"

"Go to bed, then," she told him. He hesitated, then shook his head, refusing to meet her eyes. She grinned.

"How did you do it, then?" she asked. "Before, when you appeared out of nowhere."

"I said I'm not telling you," he said firmly, but she detected a hint of amusement in his eyes now.

"All right, then. We both know you're going to eventually, though, so I'm just saying this seems like a very good opportunity to me."

"I'm not," Draco insisted.

"If you say so," said Hermione smugly, and leaned back against the wall. It wasn't so bad down here, really. Besides, though she'd never tell him, Draco's company made her feel, for the first time in a few hours, as if everything would be all right.

The next thing Hermione knew, sunlight was streaming in from the windows above them, filling the corridor and piercing her eyelids. Slowly she raised her head, and the scene that greeted her jolted her wide awake at once. Draco was asleep beside her, his head resting on her shoulder. Feeling her stir, he opened his eyes and immediately jumped up in alarm. Instantly they scrambled apart, each fervently wishing the floor would open and swallow them whole. The feeling only intensified as they looked up and, to their horror, locked eyes with Professors McGonagall and Snape.

Snape was holding his wand as far out behind him as possible and looking as if someone had placed dung under his nose, and Hermione could make out Harry's unconscious body floating along in midair just beyond him. McGonagall, on the other hand, had eyes only for Draco and Hermione, and she looked apoplectic. She opened her mouth to speak but closed it again almost at once, seeming to think better of whatever she was going to say.

"Good morning," said Snape silkily, and Hermione could swear she detected a sparkle of amusement deep in his cold, black eyes. Professor McGonagall, meanwhile, had found her tongue.

"Miss Granger, did I not urge you and Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley to let go of these ridiculous notions about the Stone and enjoy your last days with your classmates?" Hermione swallowed and looked down at the floor; she felt as if she might burst into flames if she looked into Professor McGonagall's eyes for another moment.

"You did, Professor," she said quietly. "But-"

"And Mr. Malfoy," she went on, as if Hermione hadn't spoken, "did I not warn you, in no uncertain terms, to return to your dormitory at once?" A pause.

"Yes, Professor."

"Was there an epidemic of temporary deafness yesterday evening of which I was unaware?"

"No, Professor."

"I will not bother asking for an explanation, as prolonging this ridiculous conversation does not interest me," she said coldly. "Mr. Malfoy, ten points will be taken from Slytherin, and if you do not go at once to your common room, it will be fifty." Draco opened his mouth, looking absolutely furious, but almost instantly shrank several inches under Professor McGonagall's gaze. Without a word, he turned sharply and shot off down the corridor and out of sight.

"Please, Professor," said Hermione quickly. "I only wanted-I mean-is Harry all right?"

"Mr. Potter will make a full and speedy recovery," said Professor McGonagall icily. "And if you would like to be allowed to visit him, I suggest you get out of my sight at once."

Hermione didn't wait to be told twice. Legs trembling slightly from a strange combination of exhaustion and adrenaline, she made her way through deserted, sun-drenched corridors to Gryffindor Tower. Despite the unpleasant squirming her insides always did when an adult was disappointed in her, she felt strangely elated. Now that the fear for their lives was over, she was filled with a distinct sense of pride. All those traps and riddles, and they'd got through every single one with scarcely a scratch. And, aside from the small detail that they'd been in mortal danger, it had really been quite fun.

The Great Hall looked exactly the same as it had on the night of the welcoming feast, with one notable difference: rather than the Hogwarts crest, the banner behind the head table carried the Slytherin serpent, and the decorations were all silver and green. Happy chatter filled the hall, but it ceased at once as Dumbledore rose to speak.

"Another year gone!" he said cheerfully, beaming around at the sea of faces below him. "And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were...and you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts! And now, as I understand it, the House Cup needs awarding, and the points stand thus. In fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and twelve points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; in second place, Ravenclaw has four hundred and twenty-six points, and Slytherin, four hundred and sixty-two."

Jubilant cheers and applause erupted up and down the Slytherin table. A few older students tossed their hats into the air in celebration.

"Yes!" cried Pansy, throwing her arms exuberantly around Draco. He laughed and caught her before she overbalanced and toppled off the edge of the bench. She released him, face now brilliantly pink but still glowing with excitement.

"Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin," said Dumbledore, raising his hand for quiet. "However, recent events must be taken into account."

The room went very still; whispers broke out around the Slytherin table, and an excruciating sense of anticipation gripped the Hall.

"What recent events?" hissed Blaise. "What's he talking about?" Draco, who suspected he knew precisely what events the Headmaster was talking about, looked down at the table and said nothing. Surely, Dumbledore wouldn't. Would he?

"I have a few last-minute points to dish out," the Headmaster went on. "Let me see. Yes...First, to Mr. Ronald Weasley. For the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor House fifty points."

A cheer rose from the Gryffindor table, and dread crept into the air among the Slytherins. Draco's heart sank slightly; Gryffindor had now passed Hufflepuff, and he was sure that these last-minute points were only just beginning.

"Second-to miss Hermione Granger, for the use of cool intellect in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor House fifty points."

"They're a hundred points up!" shouted Blaise, looking furious.

"Shh!" hissed Theo, gesturing toward the head table. Dumbledore had begun speaking again.

"Third-to Mr. Harry Potter...for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor House fifty points."

Everyone at the Slytherin table was extremely subdued now. Those who had been counting along all shared the same chilling realization: Gryffindor had four hundred and sixty-two points. They were tied.

"Stop," Pansy muttered under her breath, squeezing her eyes shut. "Just stop it, stop it there." Shaking his head slightly in disbelief, Theo placed a hand on hers. As Draco had suspected, Dumbledore wasn't quite finished.

"There are all kinds of courage," he said, smiling serenely. "It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but even more to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom."

The cheers that erupted from the Gryffindor table filled the whole Hall. A crowd of people threw themselves onto Neville Longbottom, who looked comically stunned. It couldn't have been plainer that he'd never won anything in his life. Draco shook his head in disgust and looked away.

"That's rubbish!" Blaise looked absolutely furious.

"He did that on purpose," said Theo darkly, staring up at the head table, eyes narrowed.

"Yeah," muttered Draco, eyes traveling once again over the Gryffindor table. "He did."

As always, Harry Potter stood out among the crowd, cheering and pumping his fist in the air with his stupid red-haired sidekick. It was a sickening sight, but it also seemed infuriatingly fitting. After all, hadn't he spent the entire year thinking he'd come out ahead, only to have the rug yanked from under his feet by Saint Potter? Well, that would stop here and now, he vowed. Next year, it would look very different.

Watch out, asshole, he thought darkly, and turned away from the nauseating Gryffindor cheers to commiserate with his friends.

In the chaos of the adventure down the trapdoor and the jubilation of winning the House Cup, Hermione seemed to be the only one who hadn't forgotten their final exam results were still to come. Harry and Ron were very pleased with their marks, though Hermione caught herself thinking Harry was very lucky to have passed Potions, and Ron's Transfiguration grade would've brought her to tears. However, she kept both of these thoughts to herself; the only person she really wanted to discuss exam results with was Draco. She therefore slipped away from the Gryffindor table after breakfast on their second to last morning at Hogwarts, and caught up to him in the Entrance Hall just before he descended the staircase that led to the dungeons.

"I'm sorry, are you trying to get yourself killed?" he asked imperiously, as he turned to face her.

"Oh, don't be ridiculous," she told him, with a dismissive wave.

"I'm not," he said flatly, ushering her across the Entrance Hall and out onto the grounds. "If anyone from Slytherin sees you after last night, it won't be pretty." Hermione winced. Although she was elated Gryffindor had won, she had to admit she hadn't considered how Slytherin might feel about Dumbledore's last-minute display.

"Is everyone really upset?" she asked, more cautiously.

"Well, yeah," he said flatly. "I mean, he obviously did it that way on purpose. You didn't honestly think everyone would be thrilled just because Gryffindor won, did you?"

"I didn't really think about it," she admitted.

"Clearly." She hesitated, feeling distinctly less cheerful than she had moments ago.

"Er...what about you?" she asked. "I mean...you're not upset with me, are you?" He turned to face her, his expression unreadable.

"That depends," he said cooly. "Let's see your final exam results. I know that's the real reason you wanted to talk to me." Wordlessly she handed over her results, and he scanned the parchment, his expression still infuriatingly blank. After a moment, he handed it back.

"Well, I've beat you in Potions and Transfiguration," he said matter-of-factly.

"I don't believe you've beat me in Transfiguration," she countered. He smirked.

"Maybe I have, and maybe I'm telling you that to get back at you for stealing the House Cup."

"Oh, for heaven's sake, let's see then." She made a grab for his parchment, but he withheld it.

"Say what Dumbledore did was unfair," he said, a glimmer of amusement entering his eyes.

"You're joking," she snapped.

"Say it, or you'll never know how many subjects I beat you in." She knew he was goading her, but felt her eyes grow wide of their own accord.

"More than two?" she asked, infuriated by the hint of panic in her own voice. Draco shrugged.

"I didn't say that." Hermione gritted her teeth.

"I...suppose...he might've found a better way to give out those points," she muttered. "And I'm sorry he took the House Cup away from Slytherin like that, but I'm not saying it was unfair. We deserved the points for what we did." Draco studied her for a moment, then handed her his results. He hadn't been lying, he had beat her by a few points in Transfiguration and a close but respectable margin in Potions. However, she'd beat him in Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts, and absolutely flattened him in History of Magic. Their Herbology and Astronomy grades were identical.

"All right, well done," she admitted, handing back his parchment. "I know which subjects I'll have to study over the summer." He laughed, dropping his cool, detached demeanor for the first time that morning.

"Next year's going to be fun, then." She grinned.

"Yeah, it will be." She paused. "Are you ever going to explain how you made yourself invisible?"

Draco raised an eyebrow.

"Who says I was invisible?"

"For heaven's sake, Draco, I was there! You grabbed my arm and took ten years off my life, and then you appeared out of thin air!" Draco looked stricken.

"I didn't grab your arm," he said slowly. Hermione felt a chill go down her spine, but a flicker of amusement in his eyes told her he was pulling her leg.

"That isn't funny," she said firmly.

"Of course it is," he retorted, racing ahead as they neared the path around the lake.

"This isn't over!" she insisted, jogging after him.

They spent the remainder of the morning by the lake, talking and laughing and enjoying the beautiful weather. It was lovely, and although Hermione was quite looking forward to seeing her parents and enjoying the summer holidays, she knew she'd miss Draco quite a lot. After a few hours they reluctantly left the sunshine behind and went back into the castle to spend the afternoon packing.

Draco turned a corner, and, as was still a frequent occurrence, found himself in a part of the castle he'd never seen before. He was on the seventh floor. They would be taking the train home in a few hours, but first he had something to do. Hermione's copy of Matilda was in his back pocket, and he'd been combing the castle all morning for a place to hide it. He wasn't stupid enough to bring a children's book by a Muggle author into his parents' house, and besides, it seemed fitting for the book to remain at Hogwarts. The problem, though, was where to put it. He'd been to every nook and cranny of the castle he could think of, but thus far nothing felt right.

This corridor was very nearly blank; the walls were empty save for a tapestry of a man in a stupid-looking orange stocking cap teaching a band of trolls to do ballet. For some reason, however, Draco found himself turning down it, drawn to the window at the far end. The view of the lake was probably spectacular, and he felt an irresistible urge to see it. This was stupid, he thought. There wasn't much time, and he had to focus on what he really needed-a place to hide his book. Even so, he paused as he reached the window. As he'd expected, the view was absolutely incredible. He could see beyond the lake from here, to the mountains jutting impressively up into the sky. It took him a few moments to tear himself away from the window; he really needed to find a place to hide his book, and time was running short. He retraced his steps back toward the grand staircase, past the ridiculous dancing troll tapestry. However, something stopped him before he left the corridor, and he found himself once again inexplicably drawn back toward the window. This was ridiculous. What he really needed was a place to hide his book, and clearly nothing in this corridor-wait a moment. He stopped cold and stared at the wall opposite the tapestry, for a door had appeared in what, he was positively certain, had moments ago been solid stone. It was a small, nondescript door, wooden with a simple brass knob-entirely unremarkable except that it hadn't been there moments before. Slowly, filled with both curiosity and trepidation, Draco opened the door. He stepped through it, and gasped aloud.

He found himself in a room the size of a large cathedral, with ceilings that towered what must've been fifty feet over his head. Enormous windows lined the walls on either side, so that the whole of the gigantic room was bathed in golden sunlight. Most remarkable of all, he was standing among what looked like a small city built of every kind of random knickknack, forgotten treasure, and hidden possession imaginable. He took a few steps down the path before him, turning his head as far as it would go in either direction and craning his neck up to take in as much as he could. There were piles and piles of books, large and small, old and new; a thirty-foot tower of birdcages teetered off to the left, and a few clotheslines crisscrossed overhead, hung with every conceivable variety of clothing and textile. To his right, a large chest of gemstones in every color glittered breathtakingly in the light from the windows. Atop the pile of gems was a discarded old tiara adorned with sapphires that looked as if it had seen better days. He cast about for a place to hide the book, and found himself drawn back toward the tower of birdcages. A smile found its way onto his face as he recalled the chapter in which the little girl uses a pet parrot to convince her parents their house is inhabited by ghosts. Yes, the birdcages felt right. Spotting a burgundy silk scarf on the table to his right, he wrapped the book and placed it inside a small but ornate golden birdcage. For good measure, he snatched a violet sheet from a large chest to his left and covered the cage, then stepped back to survey his handiwork. Perfect, he thought. He turned and left the room the way he'd come, already looking forward to retrieving the book when he returned next year.

And then, before he knew it, they were on the train home. They talked and laughed as the wild countryside gave way to neat hedges and smart brick houses. As the outskirts of London loomed into view and the sun sank below the horizon, Draco felt the day's carefree happiness wilt a bit. His whole life he'd wished he had a brother or a sister. He'd longed for playmates as fun and adventurous as Blaise and Pansy, and (not that he'd ever admit it), he'd come to relish the nights spent in the common room with Theo, as though the world belonged just to the two of them. And Hermione...Well, he'd never dreamed he'd meet anyone whose company he enjoyed as much as hers. The idea of three months without any of them seemed absurd. What on earth had he ever done with himself, before coming to Hogwarts? He turned away from Blaise, Vince, and Greg's game of Exploding Snap and allowed his eyes to slide past the low buildings outside the window, willing the train to slow down.

"Feels strange to be going home, doesn't it?" asked Theo, as if reading his thoughts.

"I sort of feel like I just left home," said Draco quietly, after a moment's hesitation. Theo gave a soft laugh.

"Yeah," he said. "I know what you mean."

And then, far too soon, the train slowed to a halt and they spilled out onto platform nine and three-quarters. As he stepped down from the train, it occurred to Draco that he hadn't said goodbye to Hermione. He had only to scan the crowd for a few seconds before he spotted her; evidently she'd been looking for him as well, for she grinned, and as she hurried toward him he thought she was going to throw her arms around him and hug him. At the last moment, however, she awkwardly withdrew and held out her hand. Internally, he grinned. This would be fun. He raised an eyebrow, then took her hand and pulled her closer.

"It's called a Disillusionment Charm," he said softly. When she drew back, she was grinning.

"Now, was that so terrible?" With that, she released his hand and turned to join the crowd jostling toward the barrier.

"Hey-Hermione!" he called after her, struck by a sudden inspiration. She turned halfway.

"Yes?"

"I admit it." She frowned slightly, confused, but then her face cleared as she understood, and she gave him a radiant smile. He watched until she disappeared out into King's Cross, keen to hold onto the warmth and happiness of the past year as long as he possibly could.