Mbele is pronounced Mm-beh-lay.
Trigger warnings: misogyny. Verbal sexual harassment
Ombré de la Lune
Chapter Five
On Monday evening, it's so cloudy within the wards that the October full moon isn't showing. Sinistra has to light lanterns in the classroom to illuminate it enough for them to see their textbooks. The clouds might disperse later that night—they typically do—but there's no guarantee it'll be during class time.
Professor Sinistra decides to have them all read a chapter about how magic works on other planets, assigning them to answer the questions at the end. Sinistra ambles up and down the aisles with his hands clasped behind his back, ensuring that everyone stays focused. Every time he passes Hermione's seat, she feels the tension increase along her skin. It might just be her imagination, but it feels like his gaze lingers on her, on what she's reading, on what she's writing.
As class wears on, the clouds thin out a bit. Not enough to fill the room with light but enough to show the outline of the full moon. The Astronomy Tower is so high that it looks like the moon is hanging right beside them. Like Hermione could simply lean over the windowsill, reach out, and touch it. Pluck it from the sky like an opalescent coin.
Hermione wonders if anything will happen in Hogsmeade tonight. If the Wolfman makes an appearance, will he be spotted in the forest again? Or is he something dangerous? Will he come into town and wreak havoc? One thing Hermione recalls about Professor Lupin is that there were never any sightings of him within the town. If there's a werewolf in the area, will he have the same story?
She supposes she'll have to go down the hill at lunch to have a look around, she thinks as her quill scratches across her parchment and her finger trails along the page of her textbook to keep track of the words she's reading. Someone in Hogsmeade will have more information. She'll start with Madam Rosmerta and fan out from there.
Forty-five minutes into the period, Hermione is the first one done answering the textbook questions. She needs to use the loo so she stands up and pushes her chair in. Professor Sinistra happens to be coming up the aisle as she is turning, and he stops.
"Excuse me, Professor," she say as she sidles by in the limited amount of space he's given her to do so.
He stares at her.
She's unsurprised that he wouldn't move—his misogyny was apparent during their last conversation. Sinistra clearly has no knowledge or care of his outdated opinions but then again, she doesn't think there's a single part of the wizarding world that's caught up to the Muggle concept of feminism.
And that's one thing she doesn't miss about going to school with Harry and Ron. The knowledge that she was doing all of the work while the boys remained the face of the revolution infuriated her. It always had. She'd take the loneliness of this school year over returning to that.
Not that she cares about fame. Hermione's never cared about it, nor does she want it.
Just a thank you would suffice.
Her footsteps echo in the large room as she walks toward the door.
"Miss Granger, where do you think you're going?"
The icy voice stops her dead in her tracks. When she turns, it's to see the professor standing right where she'd passed him. Sinistra's eyes, cold and blue, wither her.
"Um, to the loo, sir," Hermione says.
Sinistra smiles but it lacks mirth and soul. "Apparently it needs explaining that students must acquire a corridor pass to be able to leave during class time. Have you done so?"
Hermione's brows twitch together. He's never required passes before. They've always been allowed to come and go as they please. The loo is right at the bottom of the tower.
Her gaze sweeps the students still seated, seeing that everyone has turned around to watch. Well, everyone except Malfoy. He's more focused on hanging his head between his hands, elbows resting on the table, pretending to read his textbook.
Is he asleep?
"I apologize, sir." She fidgets with her fingernails in front of her abdomen. "May I have a corridor pass?"
"You may not. Please return to your seat." He turns and resumes his meandering.
Hermione hesitates. Normally, she would but… It's been hours since the last time she went. She actually needs to go.
And Sinistra is being an unfair arse.
"Sir, I'm sorry." Her voice causes him to stop walking. "But—I would like to ask again politely for a corridor pass."
Sinistra does a spin on the ball of his foot and faces the classroom. There's a cruelty in the expression on his face. Hermione might be the only one who can see it. To everyone else, this probably looks like simple insubordination.
"This is not your school, Miss Granger, and Headmaster Dumbledore no longer walks these halls." Sinistra's gaze snaps to Malfoy for a brief moment and then returns to Hermione, who is horrified by his lackadaisical, rude mention of the late headmaster. "You may leave my class when I say you can leave. I say you can leave when the period is over."
"But, sir—"
"Do you understand that rules exist, or do you simply ignore them when it suits you?" Sinistra snaps, his hands still poised behind his back. "You will sit down in your seat right this moment, Miss Granger, or you will receive detention for the rest of the term."
Hermione can feel something wrapping tight around her lungs, something as intense as terror. It's almost like she's running from the Snatchers, or like Ron's been Splinched and she's trying to save his arm again. She knows she's seconds away from panicking but everyone is looking at her. Her seat is all the way at the front of the room, right where Sinistra is still standing.
The seat beside Malfoy is empty. It's always empty.
So she strides over to it with her head held high, a determined expression masking her anxiety, and takes it.
Slowly, Malfoy drops one forearm to the table, across his book. From beneath his unruly, messy platinum hair, he's looking at her out of the corner of his eye, his expression one of mild annoyance. Like he really was asleep and she's just woken him. Hermione merely glances at him and intertwines her fingers before her on the table.
Malfoy's the only person that feels familiar in this classroom full of Seventh Years. There's safety in familiarity. That's logical.
Nothing wrong with logic.
Sinistra strides down the aisle in a way that makes Hermione feel as though she's in a tunnel. Trapped in a tunnel with no way out. It spikes the adrenaline in her veins and she struggles against the urge to draw her wand.
Why is he so angry?
He storms to a stop beside Malfoy, his robes fluttering and his teeth baring in a furious snarl. A lock of his black hair has fallen forward and he doesn't make any moves to brush it back into place.
"Return to your seat, Miss Granger."
"The seats were not assigned at the start of term, professor," Hermione shoots back. "I may sit wherever I please."
"Not in my classroom."
"Then I think it would be pertinent and fair for you to assign everyone's seats at random."
"Not. In my. Classroom." He's seething. Positively seething. But there's something about the way his hinges are coming loose that Hermione relishes in. It makes her feel alive.
It makes her feel like she's at war.
"You are showing undue cruelty," Hermione says, "and in February 1948, Headmaster Dippet recognized that withholding students from bathroom and water breaks was showing undue cruelty and therefore, would no longer be allowed. You are a professor here at this school and this is something you should know."
Sinistra's hands are balled into fists at his sides. His eyes blaze like twin flames.
"Your cheek is bringing you to the precipice, Miss Granger. I run this class in a fair manner."
"Then push me over," she says, holding his vitriolic gaze. "I've endured worse than a detention."
"Yes, I'm sure you have." The words fall from his lips like audible poison. "In your ever-present quest to assert your place as this generation's heroine, you've endured quite the series of avoidable traumas."
Hermione fights to keep her jaw from dropping. Blaming her, the victim of such traumas, for seeking those traumas out for attention's sake? It's the exact reason why Professor Sinistra has now just become tied with Umbridge for her least-favorite professor.
Malfoy is still staring at her but now, he's sitting back in his seat, his hands relaxed in his lap and his eyes narrowed in what she can only assume is curiosity. He's wearing his robes and school uniform correctly this evening but Hermione knows it's just for Professor Sinistra's overbearing benefit. He wore casual clothing all day today.
But Malfoy never was one to talk back to professors. Aside from Harry, that has always been the crown that Hermione wears.
Everyone is staring. The entire room feels like the air inside of it is charged with electricity, bolts of it shooting in every direction. It coalesces between Sinistra and Hermione, who are at a stand-off that seems like drama on the surface but that Hermione knows the true depth of.
This man thinks her spoilt.
"The rules in my classroom are clear," Sinistra says after a drawn-out silent battle of wills. "You may not use the loo without a corridor pass. You must request a corridor pass. This one, to be exact." He withdraws his wand and flicks it, then tucks it back into his sleeve. A wooden rectangle floats toward him from his desk. Without looking away from Hermione, he reaches out to snatch it out of the air as the clouds thin. The sudden intensified light of the moon casts an almost terrifying pallor to his pale skin. "To go to the loo, you must obtain a pass. The pass is given by me. And right now, I choose to decline your request. Now, return to your proper seat and cease with this dramatic disruption of my class."
Hermione tosses her braids back and turns to look out the window, focusing on the shadows in the moon to keep the tears of frustration and fury at bay.
She can't win this argument. Sinistra's not going to let her. She's left looking foolish and chastised, embarrassed to be accused of trying to usurp the rules. Feeding into the narrative that Rita Skeeter's been trying to paint since Fourth Year. That she's a selfish, spoiled brat who thrives off of the attention that she gets for being intelligent. Sinistra's insistence that she wants to break the rules because she can get away with it has only been proven by her desire to attempt to prove he's mistreating her.
And now she's sitting by Malfoy because it feels like the safest space in the room.
A casual hand slides up into the air, only a couple of fingers extended while the others remain half-curled.
"Yes, Mr. Malfoy."
Malfoy speaks in a rough, scratchy voice that indicates that he really was sleeping. But his face is calm, like the still waters of the Black Lake in the dead of Winter. It's an expression of emotion from him that she might be the only one in the entire school to recognize. She can see it in the depths of his pale grey eyes, which glint nearly translucent in the moonlight.
He's angry, too.
"May I have the pass to use the loo?"
Hermione feels shock reverberate through her bones.
Why would he do that? What a bloody arse!
Sinistra's face contorts with rage. "Absolutely not, Mr. Malfoy!"
Malfoy breathes a laugh, shaking his head.
"But sir." A girl ahead of them, across the room, has gotten to her feet. She's short and diminutive in stature, her Afro a halo around her head, shyness sparkling in her eyes. But when she locks gazes with Hermione, there is strength there. Strength and reverence. "You said you would give the corridor pass upon request."
Sinistra whirls on her. "I may have stated that, but I did not agree to grant every request, Miss Mbele."
"Why not?" the girl replies, her frown turning downward. "It's just the loo."
"Because I will not reward disrespect!" Sinistra is hissing like a spitting cat, his anger causing the students in the class to stare at him in an astounded manner. "And I will not entertain Miss Granger's antics the way that other professors have seen fit to do."
"Hermione doesn't have any antics!" the girl cries, looking impassioned by her indignance. "And I know you're a professor, but you should be grateful to her. If it weren't for her, none of us would be here this year. Hogwarts wouldn't be standing if it weren't for what she did during the war. She and Harry Potter were the ones who made sure we could all be safe after everything the Dark Lord did!"
"So every tabloid in the bloody wizarding world would remind us again and again and again," Sinistra bites out.
"Let her have the damn pass… Professor Sinistra." Malfoy's voice is loud in the room as he practically shouts the words with a bored expression on his face, arresting everyone into silence. "Before you turn Astronomy class into a political take-down and get replaced by Professor Granger."
Sinistra sneers again. "Your sarcasm is pleasant, Mr. Malfoy. But no. After this disruption, Miss Granger will never receive a corridor pass from me so long as she is in this class. It's by the grace of Godric that I don't give her detention for the rest of the year."
"And what about me?" Malfoy arches one dark eyebrow. "I caused no disruption. I'm the last person to act like I own these halls. If your desire is to assert authority and remind certain individuals of the existence of such things, then I don't fit the mold. There should be no issue with granting me the pass."
Sinistra frowns, his fingers tapping against the thin piece of wood that makes up the corridor pass. Hermione finds this whole situation almost comical. A man, so slighted by her perceived attention-seeking that he's making a fool of himself just to keep himself from losing the battle. And Malfoy, of all people, stepping in? The fact that this has been going on for fifteen minutes is absurd.
Hermione is certain now that she despises men.
"Just let him have it." A Seventh Year boy that Hermione knows is named Colson says. He's sitting right in front of Malfoy. "If you're running this class in a fair way, but you're saying no to her because of the disruption, then you have to let Malfoy go. He hasn't caused any disruption."
Several other voices start to chime in, bringing a strange emotion to the forefront of Hermione's mind. School hasn't been in session for very long but already, she's grown accustomed to being alone. Invisible. To have everyone clamoring to stand up in defense of her over something that seems so simple—the right to use the loo—has her feeling a mixture of emotions.
Hermione remembers why she fights for these things.
"Very well." Sinistra is conceding but judging by the pinched expression on his face, he's on the edge of wrath. He slams the pass down on the table with a flick of his wrist.
"Thank you, sir."
Malfoy holds his gaze and leans forward, picking up the pass. His eyes never leave Sinistra's.
He holds it out to Hermione.
Hermione stares at it in astonishment, held loosely between his fore and middle fingers, as though he couldn't care less about it. As though he hadn't just started a semi-political debate in Astronomy on her behalf. As though the last time they spoke, his hands weren't around her throat.
She wants to laugh. Malfoy doesn't give a lick about authority and he never has. If he did, he never would have taken the Mark and let the Death Eaters into the castle.
But Sinistra didn't know that, and now he does.
Her hand trembles as she plucks the pass out of his grasp, knowing what it's going to cause the second she does. She can see that the other students in the class are smirking, appearing smug and triumphant.
Not Sinistra. He explodes.
"Mr. Malfoy, that is not what we just discussed. You negotiated on behalf of your—"
Malfoy slams his hands flat on the table, the violent vibration of the wood causing Hermione to jolt in fright. She glances over at him. Beneath moonlight illuminating their side of the classroom, both men look terrifying. Malfoy, with his frozen ire. Sinistra, with the blazing inferno of his indignance. They look like ghosts, like they're haunting the classroom and fighting an eternal battle.
"Granger," is all Malfoy growls, eyes trained on Sinistra, "go."
Hermione doesn't move. She hasn't gotten detention yet, nothing has erupted, this is still salvageable. The move can be symbolic and she can hold her bladder. There's still time to back down and make this right. She can—
"Now."
Hermione wastes no more time. This has gone far enough. She hurries out of the classroom, out of that tense, charged silence, and doesn't take a breath until she's at the bottom of the tower. She practically falls against the wall just inside the witch's loo, clutching the wooden pass to her chest as she pants for air.
Why had Malfoy stepped in? Why did he even care? Especially after the way he'd treated her in the Library. With how much they'd hated each other in the past? A younger version of him would have laughed with Crabbe and Goyle at the sight of Sinistra denying her the corridor pass.
This version of him—this quiet-until-suddenly-not version of Draco Malfoy is much different than that version, though. She can see that now. And while she's grateful for the help from the class, she isn't sure how she feels about Malfoy's help. She can't tell what his angle is, between the violent questioning in the Library and practically defending her honor in Astronomy, what does he want?
Hermione's never had anyone do that before. She's never had anyone fight for her. She's always the one doing the fighting, the defending, the standing up. From House Elves to Umbridge, she's always been her biggest defender.
How can she ever return to Astronomy after that? After the entire class had to fight for her right to use the loo, all because Sinistra has some personal vendetta against her? And for what reasons? He'd always been an arsehole, but after their discussion about gender equality in the Department of Mysteries and her proving him wrong with her research, he seemed to despise her.
Was it because she was right?
She should go to McGonagall. She should return to class, gather her things, and march down to the Headmistress' office to report him. It's clear that he needs to be reprimanded for the way he's treating students.
No.
No, she doesn't want to go to McGonagall. As much as she trusts her former Transfiguration professor, Hermione is a different person than she used to be. Just like Malfoy. And she understands authority and its importance… But she also understands its tendency to failure. If she goes to McGonagall, what will it really change? Sinistra isn't going to lose his tenure over this and he'll likely worsen his treatment of her over time. He's a late-twenties man who's been proven wrong, overthrown, and humiliated by a nineteen-year-old woman.
It's very clear how this is going to go.
She can't go to McGonagall. It won't do anything to help. Instead, she'll use the loo and then she'll set her shoulders, return the pass directly to the professor, and sit back down in her correct seat. She will handle whatever the professor wants to dish out from there. If things get out of hand again, she knows she can stand up for herself. And if that fails, then at least she'll always know that there are people she fought for who value the choices she made during the war.
Hermione will take care of herself, like she always has.
Malfoy rushes out of the room right when class ends.
Hermione's not surprised by it. After the fiasco that ensued after the situation with Sinistra, she doesn't want to stick around, either. She doubts he wants to talk to her and explain why he defended her, but she has no desire to ask why.
Returning the pass had been much simpler than she thought it would be. All she'd had to do was walk up to Sinistra's desk and place it in front of him. When she got back to the classroom, everyone was quietly reading and working again, and he was seated at his desk, glaring into space. He said nothing as she placed the pass before him, and she said nothing to him. Then she'd sat back down in her correct seat, as planned.
Now, as class ends, he seems to have come to life.
"Miss Granger." Sinistra's tone is lukewarm. "A word."
Hermione fights the urge to sigh. She holds her satchel in her lap, not standing from her seat as everyone around her files out of the moonlit room and into the darkness of the tower stairwell. This is going to be mildly annoying, she knows it, but after everything that happened, she knows it's necessary. He's probably going to apologize for his actions.
She hopes.
Sinistra crosses his arms over his chest, waiting in the aisle until the classroom is empty. It's only when they're alone that he addresses her again.
"I realize that things must be difficult for you after what you endured last year, and while I understand that, I also need you to understand that I am a professor and I'm trying to run my class in a way that ensures a proper learning environment."
"I understand that, professor," Hermione says, looking up at him with as much sincerity as she can muster. "I did not intend to cause any disruptions, and I wasn't trying to disrespect you. I simply needed to use the loo. I'm not used to—"
"You're not used to asking for things, I know." He ambles closer, arms still crossed and head tilted down as he mulls over his next words. Hermione reels from his continued negative insinuations.
"Sir, I don't know why you seem to think that I'm… Whatever it is you think of me," Hermione says into the silence, "but I'm not the person you think I am. I've never pretended to act like I own these halls, or like the rules don't apply to me. I've been in situations that I didn't intentionally put myself in, and I've been in situations that I have. But never have I done anything with the intent to disrupt, cause harm, or be disrespectful."
Sinistra nods as she talks, perching on the edge of her table. He's so close to her that she can smell his cologne. It's not a scent she likes, but that's not the reason why she stiffens and leans back in her chair. Her gaze flickers up and down his body in a wary once-over as he lightly interlocks his fingers in his lap.
All-of-the-sudden, the moonlit room has no ambiance. It just feels like she's uncomfortably alone in a dark room with an older man.
He looks down at her.
"Are you sleeping with him?"
Hermione's eyes pop open, his words horrifying and confusing to her.
"Excuse me?"
"Are you sleeping with Draco Malfoy?"
"Is this—is this a joke?"
Sinistra says nothing. He simply stares down at her.
Hermione's entire face contorts in disgust at yet another insinuation. She's dealt with men who held blatant dislike for her, but never with someone like this. Has she inadvertently rejected him in some way? It's the only thing that makes sense—the only reason she can think of as to why he's so invested in taking her down.
There's a screech as Hermione scoots her chair backward as quickly as she can, scrambling to her feet.
Sinistra says, "Because I can't think of a valid reason as to why a former Death Eater would rush to the defense of the person who took down the leader of the regime his father fought for."
Hermione is, of course, not sleeping with Malfoy, but the fact that Sinistra thinks he's entitled to that information is enough to make her palms itch. She clutches her bag tighter to avoid slapping him. She's got her wand in her sleeve but this is a professor.
What if he's faster?
"Professor Sinistra, that is none of your business," she hisses, her rage and fear mingling, rising within her like the tide.
Sinistra stands up, putting himself above her yet again. "If it causes issues in my classroom, then it is my business."
"No. My private matters will never be your business. Not under any circumstances. You are a professor." Hermione narrows her eyes. "And furthermore, the way that you treated me in class today was neither fair nor acceptable. I've half a mind to report you to the Headmistress for it."
"Yes, you would do that, wouldn't you? Try to usurp the rules and then report to the Headmaster or Headmistress to get special permission to do so. That is what you've spent your time at Hogwarts doing, isn't it?"
Hermione's jaw hangs open. She's so shocked by the things that he's saying and the level of negativity that he seems to hold for her that she's knocked asunder. She doesn't know how to respond to it. If this were a Death Eater or a dark wizard, she'd know exactly what to say. But this is a professor. He's supposed to be a good person.
Maybe she's still too naïve.
"Professor, I apologize for whatever it was that I did to personally anger you in some way," she says slowly, taking a step to the side to get out from behind the table and put herself into the aisle. He watches her with the eyes of a hawk. "However, it's inappropriate to question students on their private matters and personal lives. If you—"
"Miss Granger, if you want to whore yourself out to the dregs of Voldemort's army, then that's your business," Sinistra says, his tone clipped yet soft as he interjects. He's watching her closely, watching to see the pain his words cause. "But when you bring that to my class, that's when we have a problem. I won't have disruptions like that one again. If I tell you no, it means no."
"Its was just the loo, sir."
"You got up to go to the loo without asking. Then, I stopped you and told you you could not go without asking. You then asked to go to the loo. I said no. When I say no, it does not mean immediately stage a coup to try to ensure that everyone knows how you've been personally wronged by the fact that I dared to tell you no."
"Then why tell me I need to ask?!" she splutters. She's hardly breathing. Arguing with him feels like she's trying to climb a snowy, craggy mountain with no shoes.
"To prove a point."
Hermione has no words.
"If you would like to drop this class," Sinistra continues, a smugness playing about his lips that makes Hermione want to cry, "I am happy to provide you with my written permission to do so. If not, then I suggest you and Mr. Malfoy keep your relationship out of class. If I tell you no, then it means no. But you won't have to worry about that, as you no longer have permission to leave once class starts. Other people do. Just not you."
Hermione's mind is completely blank. She has no words, no skills, no preparation for a moment like this.
"Kneazle got your tongue, Miss Granger?" He takes a step closer to her and leans down, his mouth near her ear. His voice is low but as triumphant as if he's using sonorous. "That was me dismissing you."
Hermione turns on her heel and leaves the room. His voice follows her out.
"The war is over, Miss Granger. Time to accept that neither you nor Draco Malfoy are any more special than the rest of us."