Chapter 12 - Get the sword
By the time Hermione and Harry make it out of the Great Hall, Draco is nowhere to be seen.
"Which way do you think he went?" Harry whispers, stopping abruptly and looking around.
"Seventh floor, Room of Requirement," Hermione answers confidently.
Goodness, she really has completely lost her ability to filter her thoughts, hasn't she? Not that there's any reason she shouldn't tell Harry where Malfoy's going, but a little tact never hurt, did it?
"What? How do you know?"
"Er — it's just a guess, really," she backtracks. "I saw him there after Slughorn's party last month."
There is absolutely no reason to mention the second time, none at all. She's beginning to wonder if they shouldn't just go back to the ball and call it a night.
"Of course! Why didn't I think of it before!" Harry shouts out. "But Hermione, why didn't you tell me?"
"I didn't think it was important, I guess," she lies. "At the time he made it seem like he was just meeting a girl there. It might be nothing."
"Hm." Harry looks at her appraisingly. "Well, it's as good a place to start as any. Let's go."
They move quickly through the quiet, deserted halls. Other than some fumbling noises behind a few tapestries, they don't encounter anyone. Even the ghosts are in the Great Hall.
"Well he can't be meeting someone tonight, can he?" Harry thinks aloud as they go. "Parkinson was still at the ball. That's who he'd be meeting, right?"
"Um," Hermione says evasively. "Sure."
The sound of their footsteps is nearly the loudest sound she hears, second only to the pounding of her heart. This was a mistake.
She shouldn't have said anything. Nothing good can come of this. And how is it possible that her head is still vague and swimmy? How long do the effects of firewhisky last anyway? What are they even going to do if they find Malfoy?
"I'm not sure this is a good idea, Harry." She grabs his elbow. "Let's go back to the ball."
They're just around the corner now from the corridor with the tapestry of the dancing trolls and the entrance to the Room.
"This was your idea," he reminds her, pulling her forward. "And we've come all this way. Plus we can see the door, someone must be inside… But if we can catch him coming out… then we'll know for sure it's Malfoy, right? And we'll be one step closer to finding out what he's up to."
"I don't know…" Hermione chews on her lip. "He's not going to like seeing us out here… We should at least go get the cloak…"
"Hermione. This was your idea," Harry says again. "Here, we can hide behind the tapestry if you want."
"Fine, fine, alright." Harry's too determined to give in, and she's not going to let him deal with Malfoy himself.
They don't get a chance to hide.
Malfoy emerges from the Room, his face betraying a general disquietude and frustration. His dress robes remain perfectly elegant and his hair lies straight and neat. His eyes snap into focus when he sees them.
"What the fuck do you two think you're doing?"
Hermione looks at the situation and almost wants to laugh. Harry's still holding the edge of the tapestry, stuck in place, obviously about to hide. It couldn't be more clear what's going on.
"Don't tell me — a little light snogging behind the tapestry? I know you like this corridor, Granger, but surely there was somewhere closer to the party."
She fights back a gasp. Malfoy wouldn't –
"What's he talking about, Hermione?" Harry demands.
She shrugs casually, despite her wide eyes. "No idea."
"What are you on about, Malfoy?" Harry asks, finally letting go of the tapestry and stepping around in front of Hermione.
She huffs and moves so she's standing beside him again.
"Oh, did I get the wrong idea?" Malfoy drawls. "You weren't snogging, you were following me?"
Harry draws his wand. "Just tell us what you're up to."
"That's cute. You and your little wand."
"What were you doing?" Harry demands again, stabbing his wand in Malfoy's direction.
"Do you honestly think I'm going to tell you?" Malfoy draws his own wand and rolls it over slowly in his hands.
"You can't have been in there for more than five minutes. And we know you weren't meeting Parkinson, so what are you doing up here?"
"Pansy?" Malfoy asks, seemingly taken aback. "What on earth does she have to do with anything?"
"Hermione said that's what you told her last time she saw you up here. That you were meeting Parkinson. But you were lying, and now we know it."
"Don't sound so proud of yourself, Potter. You haven't figured anything out."
Malfoy smirks at Hermione for a moment, then flicks his gaze back to Harry. Oh no.
"And last time Granger and I met in this hallway, we certainly weren't talking about Pansy. And the time before that… well, she knew I wasn't talking about Pansy then either, didn't you Granger?"
"I —" she starts, panicking.
"Hermione," Harry says slowly, almost warningly. "What's he talking about?"
"Nothing," she blurts out, too quickly. "I don't know."
Harry looks at her for a long beat, deeply hurt eyes searching her face. She's never lied to him before, definitely not this blatantly, not about something this big.
Harry drops his wand arm. "I'll see you later, Hermione," he says softly and disappears down the hall, his dress robes swishing behind him.
"Harry, wait!" she cries and starts to take off after him.
Malfoy grabs her arm. "Let him go," he murmurs.
She yanks her arm away. "What did I tell you about grabbing me? And what's your problem, anyway?"
"I have secrets, and I need to keep them," he states. He's as calm and gentle as she's ever seen him. "Even if it's at the expense of yours."
"I can't deal with you right now," she says. "I have to talk to Harry."
She turns and he reaches after her again. She pulls her arm out of the way at the last second.
"Are you kidding me?" she shrieks.
"Fine, fine." He raises his hands in the air. "But I will petrificus you if you go after him again."
"Just let me go, Malfoy," she whines, near tears. "I need to talk to Harry. And it's your fault, so would you please let me go. Just have a little decency for once."
"Potter's going to need a minute," he says gently. "You'll make it worse if you go now. Talk to him tomorrow."
"But I lied to him!" she gasps, fully crying now. "You made me lie to him, I've never done that before, I have to explain!" She points an arm, flailing and desperate in the direction Harry went.
"Explain tomorrow. Do you really think he'll listen if you go now?" Malfoy says. He's not wrong.
Hermione deflates, slumping pathetically where she stands, choking on shameful, angry tears.
She can't believe this. This was her bad idea, her horrible fault. Why did she want to go after him? Why did she lie to Harry? Why did she drink so much? Why did she ever kiss Malfoy? Why, oh, why has she been so stupid?
"Are you going to yell at me again if I touch you?" Malfoy asks softly, stepping forward.
She shakes her head. He wraps his arms around her and lets her cry against the luxurious lapels of his dress robes. He rubs soothing circles over her back.
Slowly, she catches her breath. "Why did you have to go and say all that to Harry? And how can you go from that to being so nice to me?"
"Believe it or not," he says, his voice quiet against her ear, "I wasn't trying to hurt you. I just needed to distract you and Potter until the door was gone. It was the first thing I thought of, I'm sorry."
She sniffs back a lingering tear. "I've never heard you apologise for anything before."
He pauses for a long time, so long she thinks he's not going to answer. He keeps holding her though, and maybe that's answer enough.
"I always say sorry when I really mean it," he says eventually. "I'm just not usually sorry for the things I do."
She lifts her head from his chest and looks at him. "Nothing about you makes sense to me anymore."
"That's what you like about me." He smiles at her. A shining, radiant grin.
"I don't like you," she says, a half-smile pulling at the corner of her mouth.
"I beg to differ."
"You've said that before," she points out, "when you thought I was scared of you."
"You are scared of me. And you do like me," he says, smirking his smug little smirk that's as annoying as it is charming. "More than one thing can be true at once. Surely you know that. Like, tonight for example, you look beautiful and you're getting snot all over my dress robes."
"Hey! There is no snot!" she laughs. "And I don't like you! And I'm not scared of you!"
"Whatever you say, Granger," he chuckles for a moment, then softens. "You do look beautiful, though."
She leans on him again, soaking up all the warmth and comfort. She can question the source of it later, but all she knows right now is that she likes this.
After a while, she feels the lightest press of lips against her forehead – so light in fact, that she can't quite be sure she felt it at all.
"We should go back down," he murmurs, pulling away.
She nods softly, her tears now dry against her face.
They walk down to the Slytherin dorms together through the empty, echoing corridors. She lets him hold her hand, only dropping his grip when they approach the swells of people leaving the ball. They step away from each other then, and slip away through the crowd.
It's warm in the nook behind the tapestry. He remembers it being cold.
It doesn't matter.
Neville is here, with his sweet round face, his soft kissable lips, his strong sure hands. His intoxicating smell and his warm, bashful smile. Theo leans in close, bringing their lips back together and sinking into the embrace.
It really is getting hot in here.
He breaks off the kiss and Neville frowns at him worriedly.
"Does it feel hot in here to you?" Theo asks, looking around for the source of the heat.
When he turns back, Neville's gone. Disappeared. The room feels icy cold.
"Neville!" he calls, spinning in place.
Is it getting… foggy in here too, somehow?
"Neville!" he calls again. No answer.
Theo goes to look for him on the other side of the tapestry, but it's gone, the tapestry is gone. He's sealed in.
No, he's not. There's a door in front of him on the opposite side of the nook from where the exit should be. Has that always been there?
The door is white, ornate, with carvings of flowers along the edges, like something that belongs in a manor house.
From beyond the door, someone screams.
"Neville!" Theo yells, rushing toward the source of the sound.
The door opens easily and the sound of screaming gets louder. Someone's terrified, someone's dying. It sounds like Neville. But it can't be him, he was right there.
How did Theo lose him already?
The space beyond the door is thick with fog. He can't tell what the room is, or how big it is. There's nothing but fog and screaming and — there's something silver on the ground.
He steps forward, and the door slams shut behind him. Trapped, again.
The thing on the ground is a sword. It's the one he's seen before — impossibly shiny with a handle encrusted in rubies.
Theo steps forward again, reaching out a hand towards it. If he can just get the sword, he can save him. He doesn't know how he knows this, but there's no doubt in his mind.
Get the sword. Get the sword.
It moves further away with every step he takes. Or the room gets bigger. Or he's walking in place. He can't reach it.
Everything else is fog. He needs the sword. He can't see the door anymore.
He runs, trying to close the distance.
The screams get louder.
Theo falls out of the dream and wakes up drenched in sweat, but freezing cold. The gentle light coming through the gap in his bed curtains suggests it's barely dawn.
That fucking sword again. It's one thing for it to show up in his Divination assignment, but to follow him into his nightmares?
If he could just understand what it means.
Theo rolls over and pulls back the curtains to bring Neville's bed into view across the dorm. He knows he's safe, that it was just a dream, but he needs to check.
Neville's curtains are half open and he sleeps on his stomach, snoring softly. One mandrake patterned pyjama-clad foot hangs over the side of the bed. He's fine.
Theo exhales and falls back against his pillows. It really was just a weird dream.
He squirms deeper into the soft bedding and closes his eyes. He doesn't think he'll be able to fall back asleep. But that's okay. It will give him some quality time to replay the events of last night in his mind.
Getting ready up in the dorm, dinner with his old friends, talking with Daphne, sitting with his new friends, leaving with Neville, what happened behind the tapestry… He replays that last bit several times. It was a good night.
The light in the dorm gradually gets brighter, and Theo gets gradually wider awake.
At 7:00 he decides to just get up. Breakfast will have started in the Great Hall, though he can't imagine many other students will be up that early on a Sunday, let alone the day after a ball.
The walk down to the Hall is quiet, nothing but streaks of sunlight pouring in through the windows to catch his attention. It's going to be a beautiful day. On the cold side, but nothing a warming charm won't fix. He has some homework to do, but maybe he'll do it out by the lake. Maybe Neville will come with him. They can pack a picnic for lunch.
The hall is nearly empty when he arrives, but for a group of seventh year Ravenclaws, who appear to still be high on some sort of potion from the night before.
Theo pours himself a coffee and nurses it slowly, as a few more students begin to trickle in.
"Good morning, Theo," Luna Lovegood says, plonking down on the bench next to him.
"Oh, er, hello Luna," he says. "You're up early."
"I like to get a good start on things. You never know what you'll miss when you're asleep," she says matter-of-factly, helping herself to some pumpkin juice and a pastry. "Of course, sometimes, the most important things happen in our dreams."
That is an oddly on-the-nose observation, and Theo has no idea what to make of it. He's beginning to expect that sort of thing from Luna, despite the fact that – this morning included – he's spoken to her a grand total of three times.
"Did you have a good time at the ball?" he asks, to change the subject.
"Oh yes," she says. "It was a lovely time with friends. And I do like dancing."
"You and Finnegan seemed to be getting along," Theo remarks.
"Yes, Seamus is nice, isn't he?" Luna says, then takes a sip of her pumpkin juice. "You're nice too," she adds.
"Oh — er, thank you."
"Yes, I've always thought so. Neville wasn't sure at first," she says conversationally. "He was worried because you're friends with Draco Malfoy, and he's not very nice at all. But Neville knows you're nice now."
"Well, that's good, I guess," Theo says, not knowing what else to say. "I think Neville's really nice too."
"He's the nicest person I've ever met," Luna affirms.
Theo nods in agreement. "Me too."
"He is still worried about you, though," she continues. "With the war and everything. Neville is going to do whatever he can to fight You-Know-Who. But he's not sure if you're going to do the same. And if you don't, he might not be able to stay with you."
Her tone is light and airy, as if she's not twisting a hand around in Theo's heart, and yanking his insecurities and failings out into the open one at a time.
"I — I'm not sure either," he whispers hoarsely.
Luna looks at him appraisingly for barely a second. "I'm not worried," she declares. "I think you'll figure it out in time. Could you pass me the raspberry jam?"
And the next thing Theo knows, she's talking about the apparent wrackspurt infestation in the Transfiguration classroom.
It's not that he hasn't thought of this. Or that he didn't know where Neville stands when it comes to the war. Or that he didn't think this issue might come up eventually.
But it's breakfast time on a sunny day, and Luna's being so nonchalant about it, and it's nice to hear that she's not worried, but it doesn't make Theo any less worried or caught off guard himself.
He never meant to take sides.
It would be one thing if he just had to choose between Neville's side and his father's side. That's easy.
But it's not just his father's side anymore. It's Draco's side. It will be Daphne and Pansy and Blaise's side too, probably. In the end. He knows they're every bit as caught in the middle as he is. But they're all only being pulled in one direction. Theo's being pulled in two.
If he had to choose between Neville and Draco, what would he do?
If he were a better person, the issue at hand would be the driving factor. But honestly, all he wants is for everyone he loves to make it through.
His spiral into angst is interrupted by the determined clicking of sensible boots along the marble floor, coming straight for him and Luna.
"Mr. Nott," Professor McGonagall says, as she arrives, her face pulled into worried lines. "I must ask you to come with me at once."
Theo's heart jumps into his ears. "What is it? What's going on?"
"We will discuss it in my office. Please bring your things."
A/N: Beta read by the ever lovely Sunshine_celine.
Gentle reminder that I'm on tumblr as diana-skye and would love to hang out over there with all of you 3