Hey all! Your reviews have been lovely to read!
Just so you know, this story is complete! It has been since December, and I'm working on the sequel now.
This story has 16 chapters and I'm going to post a sneak peak of the sequel after posting chapter 16.
Enjoy the chapter! This one is one of my favs :)
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Chapter 5: Hogsmeade
Nott cornered Draco just outside the common room before he could head up to breakfast, pulling him by the shoulder to a window with a view of the belly of the lake. Green light filled the corridor dully as winter Mersong lilted through the glass, wistful and soft – the complete opposite of Nott's harsh voice.
"Careful, Draco. It seems you're not sticking with the right-sort nowadays."
Draco wiped Nott's hand from his shoulder.
Nott groused, "I don't want you to go sullying yours and your father's reputations by being a blood-traitor."
A blood-traitor? His eyes narrowed to slits as he looked Nott up and down, suddenly recalling that Pansy had partnered with Nott in Transfiguration after he'd brushed her off to go with Granger.
Draco huffed, "If you think I'm a blood-traitor for wanting easy access to torture Granger then-"
"Then what?" Nott interrupted, lip furled in disgust as he turned and hurled words over his shoulder, "Pans even saw you with Loony the other day! Your rep is going to the dogs."
Nott gave a final shake of his head before walking off.
Just as Nott turned a corner and vanished, Draco called weakly, "Better than hanging around with you lot!"
Lungs pattering away, Draco pulled at his turtleneck as if it were an iron collar choking him. If he went up for breakfast now, he'd have to sit alone at Slytherin table and try to ignore Nott's glares as he ate. It was even hard to acknowledge that Nott had made him feel off. Worse than off; he felt like a traitor. No one had outright said it after he'd come back to Hogwarts for eighth year, but he'd started to hang around with other people he would've once considered blood-traitors, like Luna and Longbottom, so did that mean he was one? He'd dared to think that a mudblood – although he tried not to use that word anymore – had been strangely charming. Or at least she was when her nose scrunched in delight, and a lightness entered her chocolate-eyes. That particular memory of Granger made Draco wistful. He thought about that way too much, too much to be considered appropriate.
Oh, Merlin's balls, he needed air. He'd been in the past so long he'd even started to miss the future version of Granger.
He found air – a lot of it – outside of Hogwarts by the Shrieking Shack. Breathing deep, the frost-bitten air made the insides of his nose flare with the cold as if he'd popped a strong mint into his gob. His gloved fingers leant against the wire fencing just outside of the snow-covered trees surrounding Hogsmeade. The land stretched on before him, utterly white besides the Shrieking Shack which sliced through the snow like a coffin shaped knife and reminded him a lot of the skiing trips he and his family used to take around Christmas time in the Alps. He could swear that even from this distance, the groans of the dilapidated house were audible.
"What's wrong, Malfoy, lost your ski's?" A voice called. For a second, he expected to turn and find Nott walking down from the treeline to tease him some more, but it wasn't the voice of a dignified and self-assured Pureblood. Instead, Draco turned and found pumpkin hair tucked under a suspiciously handmade looking hat atop Weaselbee's head who walked with Granger on his tail, hands waving about the air as she tried to keep her balance on the snowy hill.
His eyes narrowed at Weasley. "You out here shopping for a new home?" He gestured to the Shrieking Shack. "Bit grand for you though, Weaselbee. I thought your family slept in one room."
"Shut your mouth, Malfoy." He said with an air of vulnerability.
Draco scoffed, "Not very friendly of you."
"And why should he be?" Granger piped up, brown eyes full of fire and looking almost black against the brightness of the white landscape.
He rolled his eyes, preparing to hurl another insult their way when something cold and hard imploded on the right side of his face. A mud infested snowball. Another one flew from the treeline. He dodged it, thankful for his Seeker agility. Eyes wide, he saw footsteps rush towards him, leap over a rock and continue in his direction. Draco balled his fist and struck the thing, watching in horror as legs without a torso emerged from thin air as the form tumbled backwards over the rock.
"Harry!" Granger called, rushing over to kneel by the form and pull a sheath of fabric from him.
"Potter?!" Draco gasped before he spat, "Potter?!"
"You git!" Weasley pushed at his shoulders, making Draco stumble back before the ginger rushed over to Potter's side like the devoted sidekick he was.
"I thought it was some kind of invisible ghost!" Draco mithered. "The Shrieking bloody Shack is right over there, remember?!" Somehow the speccy git had acquired an invisibility cloak. He scowled, recalling how much he'd begged father for one after mother had read him The Deathly Hallows, but they were rare – so rare that even a Malfoy had difficulty getting one.
"Are you okay, Harry?" Granger asked, leaning over him to look at the blood coming from Potter's snout. Childishly, a smile spread across Draco's face at the sight of Saint Potter's blood, but the smile dropped just as a golden chain necklace with a gaudy pendant fell from the neck of Granger's coat. The gold shone under the winter sunshine like gold in Gringotts. He stepped closer, eyeing the pendant until he saw it clearly: an hourglass.
"Where'd you get that?" Asked Draco, voice low.
"None of your business where I got anything!" Potter grumbled, wiping blood from his upper lip.
"Not your silly blanket, Potter. The necklace." He nodded at Granger.
Her hand went to her chest where the pendant sat, covering it before the two numbskulls could see, and tucked it back into her coat.
"Interested in jewellery, are ya, Malfoy?" Weasley asked.
"You can't afford to be." Not his best comeback, but in his shocked state, it would have to do. "And anyway, I bet you're too thick to even grasp what Granger has."
"It's just some girly necklace." Weasley crossed his arms with a lour. "Now, sod off."
"Gladly, just as soon as I have a chat with Granger." He eyed her, coldly.
"No chance." Said Potter as he stood from the snow.
"Boys, it's okay." Granger sat on the rock Potter had so gracefully fallen over. "Go back to Hogsmeade, I'll catch up."
Potter argued, "We're not leaving you here with him."
"She'll be fine." Draco said, pompous as he waved a dismissive hand at them. "Run along."
Potter and Weasley made to argue again but were silenced by the commanding tilt of Granger's head. Both shot distrusting glares over their shoulders as they trod up the hill and vanished into the treeline, leaving Draco and Granger alone.
A distant whine came from the Shrieking Shack.
Granger began, "What exactly is-"
"You have a Time Turner!" He called.
"Keep it down!" She scowled, eyes trailing the treeline.
"Potter and Weasley are gone. No one's here." He huffed. "Have you used it?"
Granger opened her mouth, but only silence followed.
"Well?"
"It's not as if I can trust you with any of this." Her brows arched up in worry. "No one is supposed to find out!"
"Is it illegal?"
"It's Ministry approved actually." She said with only a hint of her former reluctance. Gloating, filthy little mud- he cut his thoughts off with another huff. Once again, someone from the Golden trio had special treatment.
"How?" He spat.
"McGonagall-"
"That bint!" He all but yelled. "I asked her how to get one and she was so closed off about it. Flighty bugger."
"Don't talk that way about a teacher!"
"I'll talk however I want."
"Of course, you will." She slapped her hands to her knees, exasperated. "What do I expect? You're just a stuck-up rich boy who thinks the world belongs to him."
Bitterly, he asked, "Doesn't it?" He gave a small sarcastic laugh before rubbing the space between his brows with a dragonhide gloved finger. His eyes fell shut. "Oh, Salazar." This day was turning into a stressful one; the only Time Turner he'd found belonged to one of his school enemies. He could only curse his younger self for being such a prick to people; what good was being mean to people if it meant you had less connections someday? Though, of course, the younger Draco hadn't thought he'd ever need something from Granger, of all people.
Granger gave her own huff and he heard the crunch of snow beneath her boots.
Eyes shooting open, he trod through the snow and up the hill, desperate to catch up.
"Where are you going?" He asked.
"Away."
"Yes, I gathered that." Draco drawled. "But I still have questions."
"I don't have any answers for a self-obsessed dimbo like you."
"Fine then!" He gave a great roll of his eyes. "I saw McGonagall was still around Hogsmeade earlier, I'll just go ask her about your little Time Turner."
"No, you won't." She halted her walk to turn to him with wide eyes.
Draco leaned over her, smug. "Yes, I will."
"Fine!" She said before stomping along the path.
"Fine." Draco trod alongside her, smirking at her little legs battling the snow.
At some point, she had pushed into his shoulder to propel herself up the path quicker. Draco copied her, and the battle began. Each of them pushed and shoved each other along the snowy ground, and upon reaching Hogsmeade and being found by Potter and Weasley, they were both red cheeked and breathless.
"Merlin, what the bloody hell happened?" Weasley asked upon seeing the nest atop Granger's head, which was even more ruffled than usual from their uphill battle.
"On about the mess, Weasley?" Draco drawled as he pulled one of her tawny tendrils away from the nest. "Frankly, I don't see much of a difference compared to how it normally looks."
Granger snatched her hair back, slapping his arm as she did so. "That's rich! Coming from the boy with mud in his hair."
"Mud?!" His eyes widened.
She laughed, mocking, as he swiped at his pale hair. Bits of frosty mud fell as he shook his head, and he sent a glare at Potter the Mud Wielder.
"Why don't you just sod off now, Malfoy." Potter tensed, arms tight around the bunched up invisibility cloak.
"Actually," Draco said, looking down his nose at Granger, "I have to go see McGonagall about a rather important issue, so yes, I will 'sod off.'" He nodded over to the Three Broomsticks, where Madam Rosmerta hammered a sign by the entrance, not far from Hagrid and McGonagall. A black sleigh had just pulled up near the entrance and Hagrid opened the door – by pulling it off of its hinges and looking awfully shocked by the weakness of the hinges as he apologised to the rider: Cornelious Fudge. He dismounted from the sleigh and Draco had to muffle a gasp; now could be his chance to talk to the Minister about the hippogriff's sentence.
"Malfoy," Granger said, gripping the arm of his coat before he could walk off, "please don't tell her you know."
"What exactly does he know?" Potter asked.
"Oh, wow, I still cannot believe that the Chosen One is not in the loop for once." Draco sneered. "I'm shocked you haven't told your husbands, Granger."
She glowered at him, though there was a tiny swirl of worry behind the expression. Fudge's voice broke through their shared glowers, making Draco turn his head to the entrance of the pub.
"We have a killer on the loose." Said Fudge.
Madam Rosmerta shook her head, "And what would bring 'im 'ere?"
Fudge leaned in to whisper something only to have Rosmerta repeat his whisper – loudly, "Harry Potter?!"
At this point, McGonagall had joined them and began shushing Rosmerta as she gestured for both of them to enter the Three Broomsticks. Something nudged into Draco's shoulder, leaving footprints in the snow as it headed for the pub.
"Harry!" Granger called lowly, before her and Weasley ran after his invisible form. Draco joined them, eager to make it inside the pub and schmooze the Minister with Malfoy charm. They made it to the door, cramming their three forms in the small space, elbowing and nudging aplenty. Granger stepped on his foot, and he replied with a tug on her hair.
"Ouch!" She scowled.
Weasley opened the rickety door, allowing them a view of the crowded pub, but before they could step in, they were greeted by a group of shrunken heads hanging from the ceiling.
"I say," One head began, "no underaged wizards allowed in today!"
"Do you know who I am?" Draco asked, eyes narrowed.
"Don't know!"
"Don't care!"
"Shut the damn door!"
"So rude." Said Granger.
"Thick heads." Weasley frowned.
"For once I agree with you." Draco drawled as they left the entrance. "I feel tempted to use them as bludgers the next time I play quidditch."
"Which won't be for some time I'd imagine." Weasley sneered. "Heard they kicked you off the team. Daddy's money not good enough anymore?"
Draco crossed his arms, "I'm not explaining myself to you."
Granger brushed snow from a nearby bench and sat there, eyebrow raised as she waited for Weasley to sit next to her. Draco could only imagine how cold their behinds were on the frigid stone. Scowling, he decided that he hoped the stone bench was bitterly frigid; Weasley deserved to be uncomfortable.
Draco's crossed arms tensed as he stood near them, eyes on the entrance as he waited for McGonagall or Fudge to come out.
"Draco?" Said Granger, softly, and he realised that since eighth year this was the first time he'd heard her call him by his name.
"Hermy?" He said, snideness subdued by the wistful pull in his gut.
She sat up straighter, perturbed by the nickname. Weasley eyed him with an agitation wrinkled face. The lines made him look so much older, and so similar to the glimpse he'd seen of Mr and Mrs Weasley during the battle.
Granger's mouth opened, "I- for the sake of our Transfiguration partnership, I ask you to put off telling McGonagall anything."
"About what, Hermione?" Weasley groaned. "And what's it got to do with Malfoy liking your necklace?"
"Nothing, Ronald." Her eyes left Draco's, falling to her snow dusted boots.
"Alright." Draco said.
Her eyes flew back up to his, speedier than a firebolt.
"I won't tell." He drawled, and her shoulders slackened with relief. "But I want to do an experiment with the necklace."
"What? No! You can't. That would go against what McGonagall and the Ministry have allowed."
"The Ministry?" Weasley squeaked as he gave her a worried look, "I'm guessing that necklace isn't just a regular one, is it?"
"Finally catching up, I see." Draco smirked.
"Shut it, Malfoy." He snarled, dejected and brick red.
"Boys!" Granger sighed. "Honestly, you're like children."
Before Draco could think of a snide reply, the door to the pub flew open and footsteps thudded into the snow. He bet to people who hadn't seen death, Thestral footprints appearing in the snow would be just like watching an invisible Potter ambling about, leaving ghostly footprints on the snowy ground.
Potter barrelled into carollers, sending them flying to the snow. Granger and Weasley followed his trail.
Darting a look between Granger's back and the door to the pub, Draco huffed, and rushed in the direction of the carollers to catch up. He told himself that he needed to further negotiate the terms of not telling McGonagall, but in that moment, he would much prefer dealing with Granger than putting on the Malfoy charm for Fudge.
Potter's footprints led them back into the forest surrounding Hogsmeade until they found a clearing drenched in fresh snow. Massive trees towered over them, as old as the town itself, and snow fell upon them, melting on Weasley's hat and settling in Granger's hair. The silence of the ageless forest was marred by Potter's sniffling.
Granger trod towards Potter, leaving Weasley back, and Draco even further behind. She crouched before the invisible form, hesitant as she reached forward and pulled the cloak down, revealing Potter, sat upon a rock with pale and water-streaked cheeks.
"Harry, what happened?" She asked, hand on his as she knelt in the snow beside Potter's rock.
"He betrayed them." He muttered as he took his glasses off so he could rub his eyes with rough knuckles, sniffling as he did. "Sirius Black…" The boy shuddered. "He was their friend!"
"Whose friend?" Weasley asked, stepping closer.
Draco, already knowing the truth of what Potter must've just discovered, pressed his chapped lips together and bowed his head, feeling too much like an intruder. He wished more than ever that he'd just left that damn sundial necklace where he'd found it; Potter's business was not something he wanted to get involved in, especially when it made his insides flush with a peculiar mix of guilt and empathy.
"My mum and dad's." Potter all but whimpered. "They made him my godfather… and he betrayed them. I hope he does find me," His voice grew louder, firmer, and enflamed with fury, "because when he does, I'm gonna be ready. When he does, I'm gonna kill him."
"And how do you plan on doing that?" Draco spoke, surprising himself – he hadn't even processed the words coming out.
The trio turned to him: their reluctant fourth wheel.
"How do you think, Malfoy?" Potter spat.
"You're not the killing type, Potter."
"And you're an authority on that, are you?"
Draco couldn't help but think back to wartime. Yes, he kind of was an authority.
Draco said, "If he's really as bad as everyone makes him out to be-"
"If?" Potter shouted. "He's the man who betrayed my parents! He killed my parent's friend, Peter Pettigrew! And if you didn't know, the papers say he's killed 12 muggles."
"Yes, I know what the papers say." Drawled Draco. "If you come up against a murderer, then what are you going to do? Cast Riddikulus at him? Or perhaps turn him into a teapot? McGonagall would be so proud."
Potter bared his teeth. "Just sod off."
"Malfoy's right." Granger stood, dusting snow from her jeans. "If you come up against him, you could get hurt."
"I managed Quirrel and Tom-"
"Harry!" Granger said, hushed, flickering her eyes to Draco who scowled, wondering just what she didn't want him to hear. "This is different. You shouldn't go looking to kill another man when justice can be served. If he truly was your parents' friend, then what do you think they would want for him? Would they want their only son to become a killer?"
Potter's head bowed as he pressed his forehead to his knees, letting out a few more sniffles. Granger pressed a gentle hand to his shoulder as Weasley joined them. The snowfall grew heavier, and Draco's feet moved without permission, taking him back to his bed in Hogwarts where he could seek solace from the cold and everything else in this world.
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