Hermione was absolutely sure she had just seen Harry Potter. And that was quite a problem, since she'd watched him die with her own eyes. She'd been paralyzed for a moment, while she watched the tall figure turn the corner, and only some seconds later she managed to regain enough strength to walk again.
Hermione ran to where she thought she'd seen him, but he wasn't there. No one was. She looked in every direction, and then she spotted the open window. The only people in the Central Tower courtyard were a few first-years with some free periods.
"Great," she muttered to herself.
"Granger," a girl behind her said. Hermione turned around, quite surprised, and narrowed her eyes.
"Astoria Greengrass. What can I do for you?" Astoria was staring at her, her arms crossed.
"Stay away from him, for a start," she scowled.
Hermione looked at her. "Excuse me?"
"You know what I'm talking about. Stay away from Draco, or you'll regret it." She pointed her wand at her and smirked. It was quite pathetic, really.
Hermione stared at the wood wand, quite amused. "You listen to me, prat. If you ever threaten me again, I'll make sure you will be the one to spend quite a few weeks in the Hospital Wing, not me. Not to mention the Dark Lord would be informed about it and I'll be very pleased to see what he'd do to you." Astoria's face turned white when she mentioned Voldemort and she couldn't really blame her. She wouldn't normally bring up the Dark Lord in her favor but she knew perfectly well that if Astoria was to ever attempt something, Hermione would get to her first, she wouldn't wait for him.
"You want him," she hissed.
"On the contrary. Now I suggest you leave, or I may forget you're Daphne's little sister."
She lingered for a second, then put the wand down and turned the corner. The difference between Daphne and Astoria was something else. While Daphne would just get up and get what she wanted, Astoria was a child, used to getting everything she wanted with a snap of her fingers.
Hermione started walking back to her class, without any desire to actually come back, for once.
How two people could make so much noise was beyond her. Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode had been arguing for at least half an hour about something Hermione refused to remember.
She was trying to get her Potions essay about the deadly poisons done, taking deep breaths now and then so she would get enough self-control not to hex them both. She turned her head to look at them in time to see Millicent point her wand at Pansy and say, "Aguamenti!"
Pansy Parkinson's scream had been so loud Hermione thought she might have woken up the Giant Squid living in the lake.
She rolled her eyes and took another deep breath, focusing back on her essay. Soon enough, the witch screamed again, so Hermione just took her things and went straight to the library, where no one would bother her. When she finally arrived, the library was almost empty and she managed to finish her essay quickly enough that, she decided to start the Herbology one about Mandrakes. When she was about halfway done, she saw Malfoy walk her way.
She ignored him, hoping he would just walk past her and not bother her, and got back to writing about the passages to get the Mandrake Restorative Draught done, which was used to cure those who had been petrified – not without a vague sense of déjà-vu.
Obviously, Malfoy sat in front of her. No one said a word for a few minutes, although Hermione could feel his eyes on her.
"What do you want?" She sighed, eventually.
"I broke up with Astoria."
"And I'm supposed to care, why exactly?" She looked through the rest of the paragraph of Mandrakes: a World she was consulting for the assignment.
"Because I know what happened."
"And what, in Merlin's name, happened?" She gave up on reading and looked at him.
"She's threatened you, she shouldn't have done that," he said, his tone implying it should have been obvious.
"You think I'm not capable of defending myself from Astoria? You shouldn't have broken up with her, so thank you very much," she rolled her eyes and sighed. "I give her twenty-four hours at most until she comes screaming at me because she thinks you're under Imperius to dump."
He looked perplexed. "Why would she think that?"
Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "And I thought you were smart. Astoria Greengrass is a fifteen-year-old in the middle of her teenage crush. She'd even see Snape as a rival when it comes to you. You've just unleashed a grenade, congratulations."
"You can't be serious," he stated.
"If you wanted to get rid of her so badly, you should've done that earlier, or at least waited a few more days."
He snorted and brushed his hair back with his fingers, refusing to accept he was being lectured by her, of all people. "Whatever. Are you done? I'm hungry."
"You know the way." She got back to her essay and finished writing down the last antidotes the Mandrake was used for, while Malfoy rolled his eyes and muttered something she didn't care enough to listen to.
Hermione charmed the books she'd used for both Potions and Herbology to go back to their places and put her parchment and ink in her bag, then got up as they started to make their way to the Great Hall, where they arrived at the same time as Astoria, along with Felicity May – Ravenclaw – and Olivia Sentice – Slytherin.
The smell of roast hit her and she smiled, muttering a low, "Have fun," as she went straight to their table.
"Hermione, why is my sister looking at you like she wants to set you on fire?" The older Greengrass laughed and took a sip of water. Hermione sighed and sat in front of her, next to Theo.
"This morning, after the Dark Lord basically crashed my History of Magic class, I met her on the first-floor hallway. She made a scene about how I'd better leave Malfoy alone, or else. I know she's your sister but it was ridiculous," she scoffed.
"I can't believe she'd so that. I'll talk to her." Daphne shook her head and smiled at her apologetically.
"It's not your fault. There's no need for you to talk to her, it's the last thing I need right now, since Malfoy broke up with her earlier." She grimaced at the thought and shrugged at Daphne's disconcerted look.
"Men," she sighed, like it was an insult.
She sighed and nodded lightly, "Yeah, well, not too much that can be done now."
At the same time, Theo decided to participate in the conversation, "Have you ever thought that maybe you are the ones not to get the cues?"
Hermione and Daphne frowned and looked at him.
"Or maybe you don't." Daphne and Theo looked like they were having their own private chat.
Hermione was sitting on a leather couch watching the Slytherin common room, which consisted of people who were trying to finish last-minute homework, despairing over a spell they couldn't cast properly or, like in Theo's case, laying somewhere taking a nap, betting, or just contemplating the room around them, bored out of their minds. It looked pretty much like the Gryffindor common room used to, which made it even weirder, since Blaise Zabini was watching the show with her.
"So, what did the Dark Lord tell you?" He asked with nonchalance.
Hermione looked at him for a second, raising a brow. "Like I'd tell you."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"There's no way you're still on our side, with that girlfriend of yours."
Blaise laughed. "Our side? And what side is that?"
"The Dark Lord's side, obviously. What, you thought I was still with them?" She scowled.
If Zabini suspected anything, it was over. He was smart, she knew that, but she couldn't let him figure out her plan. They would try to stop her.
"Honestly? I did."
"Well, you were wrong," she scoffed.
"The thing is… I'm never wrong," he chuckled, like he was actually amused.
And then it was Hermione's turn to smile.
"There's always a first. And please, do tell your girlfriend to show herself. Eavesdropping is rude."
He froze. "I won't. They can't see us together," he paused, "How did you know?"
"I'm not dumb, Blaise. I spent months, with Harry and Ron, hiding from him."
"This is ridiculous."
That was Draco's third glass of Firewhisky and still hadn't calmed down. Astoria's big scene had drained him, mentally and physically.
"It's funny, really. With that mask she's always wearing she looks a whole damn lot like you. Only prettier," Theo said.
Draco had to resist the impulse to curse him. "So you're over Daphne already?"
"Yeah, like a pretty face is enough to make me forget about her," he laughed, a bitter note in his voice.
"What was wrong with the two of you at lunch?" He poured himself another drink and sat in an armchair near the fireplace. The Heads' bedrooms had their benefits.
"We had a fight. I think she knows," he sighed and sat on the couch, taking a sip of Firewhisky.
"It'd be about damn time. You've been torturing yourself for years now, years she's spent dating dickheads," he thought about her and how she had no idea of Theo's feelings.
Since, many years before, she'd seen him in front of his mother's corpse, a crying seven-year-old child, and helped him deal with the loss, there was never really anyone else for Theo. He'd tried dating other girls, but none of them lasted for more than a month or two.
Draco believed Daphne had actually been doing the same thing for his same own reasons, but he'd never talked with any of them about it. Not with Daphne, because he refused to interfere with her love life, nor with Theo, because it would mean digging up old memories and poking at even older scars.
He remembered, during his first year, thinking Theo was a freak when he'd told him he could see Thestrals pulling the carriages. Then he had researched it in the Library – a very Hermione Granger thing to do – and understood. That same year Theo told him about his feelings for Daphne, since Draco had been observing the both of them for weeks and saw the change in his friend's expression every time she walked into a room.
Draco hoped they'd sort things out as soon as possible though, no matter how much the scars would hurt. Every time Daphne introduced them to another guy, the scar she'd left on Theo bled a little more. They either closed all the doors they'd left open, or he would bleed to death and there were no spells to help that from happening.
Draco told him – in a less poetic manner, but still. The only thing Theo lacked was the courage to risk.
Hours later, Draco Malfoy still couldn't manage to get some sleep, after the nightmares had woken him up. For Salazar's sake, he had even tried studying, but the sleep just wouldn't come.
He sighed and got up, meaning to sneak into the kitchen and steal some food, hoping a midnight snack would help, but two voices made him stop before he could run down the stairs that led to the common room. Someone else was there.
He stood perfectly still, not making any sound, and listened but he could only get some fragments of the conversation.
"…no, I've told you…"
"…because you weren't sure…"
"…never said so…"
"…that Ravenclaw fuckwit…"
It was Theo and Daphne, Draco realized. For the first time, he was feeling kind of guilty for eavesdropping. He believed if people were really keen on keeping their little chats to themselves, they wouldn't speak where everyone could hear them, so he usually didn't care if he occasionally eavesdropped conversations he wasn't supposed to hear. But these were his friends.
He stood up and went back to his room, confident he would spend another sleepless night.
It had only happened once, in the last months, and he had done a terrible mistake – he went to Granger's room with the excuse that Bellatrix and Voldemort were having a sleepover again. Even the nightmares had gone away, that night. Now, he had no excuse to go to her room and he refused to ask her for anything.
Draco had become a good observant, during the years and he could tell the changes in her. She tried not to draw too much attention, sure, but she was the same person he'd praised to the Dark Lord when he asked him 0who she was.
She had always been strong, Draco knew it well, but never as strong as she'd become in those previous months. As the days passed, he could see on her face the same indifference mask he saw every day in the mirror, and he couldn't even tell what side she was on anymore.
He'd been dead sure she was loyal to the Order of the Phoenix, before, but now he had no idea.
She could have bloody well pretended not to know about any other base after the first three or four, she could have pretended not to know their names and maybe try to save them, getting herself killed in the process. He knew Gryffindors well enough to know they would call it an honorable death and he knew her well enough to know she would die for her friends. Yet she helped the Dark Lord.
Draco had been among the first ones to get into the Great Hall. When a tired Theo sat next to him, almost dragged there by an angry-looking Blaise, the mug of coffee he'd drunk had done its job and he felt wide awake.
As the tables crowded up and food made Theo lighten up, Draco was so up in his thoughts and distracted he almost didn't notice the way Blaise glared at Luna Lovegood when she walked past them. That was by far the oddest thing he'd seen all week. Blaise was never mad, he was the composed one who kept Theo and Draco from doing impulsive things they'd regret. He couldn't understand why he'd glare at Looney, of all people. He was never one for bullying. Then again, in normal circumstances she certainly wouldn't smile at him like she did just then either.
He was distracted by Daphne and Granger entering the Great Hall, muttering about Salazar knew what, and, for a second, Draco hated his long-time friend for the changes in Granger's uniform. Her short skirt and unbuttoned shirt, enough to show some cleavage without being vulgar, along with the loose Slytherin tie, were the last thing he needed. He was used to a good half of the girls in Hogwarts wearing uniforms that were two sizes smaller than they needed to be, with way too short skirts and tight, unbuttoned shirts, but Hermione Granger wasn't most girls. She was... distracting. He hated it.
Annoyed, he poured himself some more coffee and grunted when he realized he'd forgotten to add sugar. He adjusted his beverage to make it at least drinkable, then focused on Theo again.
"What?" He blurted when he noticed he'd asked him something.
"I asked you what broom you're getting. Where's your head?"
"The Firebolt," he answered. He had destroyed his Nimbus 2001 by mistake.
Despite practice starting in two weeks – although there was no proper Quidditch season – he still hadn't told his father to mail him the broomstick. He had no desire to speak to him in any way, so he would either have to mail Broomstix or go to Diagon Alley himself to get the broom. He knew Snape wouldn't mind.
Stupidly, he asked himself whether Granger had spent the night wide awake too.