"Professor—?" Malfoy asked.
"I will be back to fetch you," McGonagall pressed on.
"I can take it from here, Professor," York wrote something on her clipboard. "Shall we?" she asked Hermione and Malfoy.
"Hold on, I-I'm not sure I'm ready," Malfoy stammered.
"I thought you'd have plenty of time to study at your parents' house," she said silkily.
"Miss Granger," McGonagall's voice cut through the room. Hermione fell silent. "I will be here to show you back to your quarters when you are finished, Mr. Malfoy. I'm seeing personally to your stay. I trust you two will not embarrass me?"
"No. Thank you, Professor," he said, teeth gritted. Hermione shook her head quickly.
She was already sitting down on one of the stools, her back straight and her eyes looking only at York. That morning, when McGonagall had told her who she would be taking her exams with, she hadn't known what to think.
She couldn't help but notice how stiffly he sat, his arms locked against his torso—was that the end of his Dark Mark she saw poking out from his sleeve?
"Best of luck to you two," McGonagall said before leaving the classroom.
York cleared her throat.
"The envelopes before you each have a potion written on them. Then, you must brew from memory. There is an assortment of ingredients in each of your supply cartons," York flicked her wand and two black boxes, each the size of a shoebox, appeared at their feet. "You can find what you need from these. You have three hours. You may begin."
Hermione took a deep breath. It was time to focus on her exam. That, she knew she could do no matter what.
"Time's up," York called out. "Hands up, please."
Hermione and Malfoy both lifted their hands, their vials rattling against the table with a clatter. The two of them had worked at almost the same pace for the entirety of the exam.
As York collected the samples of their potions and boxed them up, McGonagall knocked on the door and entered.
"You will eat in here while York makes sure your exam vials make their way to be graded," McGonagall said. York made her way out of the classroom and McGonagall waved her wand. Two plates of food appeared on the desk nearest to her. She glanced at the clock near the door. "I must get to a meeting. But I trust that you two don't need babysitting?" she nodded at them.
Malfoy and Hermione shook their heads, too weary to say anything. In the hours she had spent brewing her Draught of Grief, her hair had doubled in size. Making sure the potion was the correct shade of orange had been a feat, and she was certain that she had inhaled some of the fumes by accident.
"Well, I suppose Bardsley will be just out the door," McGonagall added.
"Who?" Malfoy said.
McGonagall's eyes flitted to him.
"Your Auror," Hermione mumbled.
McGonagall looked as though she was about to say something but thought better of it. She nodded at them both and made her exit.
For a few minutes the only sound was their silverware clanking against porcelain and the hasty glugs from their goblets.
"You got a draught, by the looks of it?" Malfoy said as casually as he could.
Pointedly, Hermione took a long sip from her goblet.
"I don't bite," he muttered, rolling his eyes.
"Didn't think you'd want to make conversation with a mudblood."
She could see the hand in his lap form a fist. She suppressed a smile. It had been a long time since she had made Malfoy angry.
Bardsley poked his head through the door. His mustache wriggled. They froze. "You two are just supposed to be eating. Not talking," he said as lightly as he could before returning to his post.
"Just being cordial. I haven't been out much," he whispered. He tilted his head at her, clearly throwing the bait.
"Yes, you do look as though you need a little sun."
"I'd tell you more, but we aren't supposed to talk."
Hermione dabbed at her mouth with the corner of her napkin. "On the contrary. Nonverbal hexes are my specialty."
"Please. You wouldn't do anything with McGonagall so close."
Hermione laughed a low, hollow laugh. "What do you know about me, Malfoy? I didn't give away anything under the Cruciatus, did I?"
He fell silent at this. She knew more about Malfoy than she would ever care to know. She could see the same crease in his brow that his father had. This she knew from observing the way Lucius had aged in the photos throughout the pages of The Daily Prophet. She knew the weight of Malfoy's hawthorn wand, which looked no different today than when Harry had held it. She knew about his childhood home. The way the floorboards had felt, smooth and lacquered, with her face pressed against them.
She cleared her throat, tucking a bushy strand of hair behind her ear. "I'd rather use the rest of my energy on these exams, if you don't mind," she muttered. He turned back to his food in quiet agreement, and in that moment she knew that he wouldn't speak out of turn again. She knew this to be true, just as strongly as she knew that Draco Malfoy was a coward.
"Ten more minutes," York called out. Hermione sighed with relief. She was nearly finished with the final question on her written Potions exam. There was enough time to go over her answers, and then perhaps she would go through the properties of enchanted metals again—
A thunderous boom came from under them. It reverberated through the room. She glanced at Malfoy, whose quill had also stopped scratching along his parchment.
York took her wand out. "Keep working," she ordered. She poked her head out of the classroom doorway. "Oh—oh my!" she exclaimed, clapping a hand to her mouth.
Hermione stood up. "Everything alright?"
A flash of light, and then York crumpled forward, her shoulder landing on the floor first with a loud thwack.
"Hey!" Hermione sprang up, digging her hand into her pocket to grab her wand, but she realized York had taken it for the written part of the exam.
Malfoy put his quill down slowly. "Should we go—"
"—Oh, move over," she pushed past his desk without a second glance.
Bardsley was slumped on the hall floor a few paces away, his wand near his feet. "Oh!" she clapped a hand over her mouth. "Hello? Can you hear me?" she knelt over York, her hands finding the pocket where her wand was. She went through the checklist of spells she used to mutter in her sleep last year. Charm. Change. Jinx. Curse. Hex. Heal."Enneverate," she said shakily. York didn't move.
"What's going on?" Malfoy stood in the doorway. Hermione whipped around from her place on the floor. She grabbed his wand from York's pocket and hesitated. Could Malfoy have something to do with it? He glanced, bewildered, at Hermione.
She'd take her chances. She tossed his wand to him. He lunged, catching it by the tips of his fingers. "Check on the Auror," she demanded.
Malfoy stumbled over to Bardsley. "He looks like he's not breathing," he muttered, crouching down. "But I'm no healer," he said quickly.
Hermione groaned. "Are you a wizard or not?" she said before pointing her wand at York again. "Enneverate." She didn't stir. She pressed a finger against her neck. No pulse.
"She's dead?" her voice cracked, and it came out like a question. Her stomach dropped. Someone was attacking Hogwarts. Again. Just like the nightmares she had of the Dark Mark appearing overhead, but this time, it was somehow worse. It was like seeing blood without a wound. Voldemort was supposed to be dead.
BOOM. Hermione sprang to her feet. She grabbed Malfoy's arm.
"Hey!" he yelped. "What do you think you're—"
"Is it this one?" she yanked his sleeve up, twisting his right arm so she could see the other side of it.
"OW!" he twisted away from her. They looked as if they were doing some sort of complicated arm-wrestling, or perhaps a deranged waltz. "Are you absolutely mad?"
She lunged for his other arm. "It's this one," she pushed his sleeve away and her grip tightened around his wrist for a moment. She stared at what remained of the Dark Mark. It was still and pale, pink like a healed burn. Nothing like she remembered it. Nothing like how it would appear in her mind when she was least expecting it, blackened and menacing, its edges undulating like oil caught in water.
She dropped his arm away as if it were a dead animal. The blood rushed to his face.
"What the fuck was that about?" he hissed, his cheeks and forehead dappled with red. He tugged his sleeve down to his fingertips. She was already running.
"It's not Voldemort!" she yelled at him.
"Where are you going?" he called after her.
"Disneyland, you dolt!"
She turned the corner, leaving Malfoy behind.
Hermione bounded down the staircase that led to the Great Hall, students streaming past her as she went. She caught a few whispers here and there as she made her descent—Is that Hermione Granger?
A firm hand grabbed her arm. "Hermione!" Ginny gasped, her eyes wide amidst the chaos, the current of students pushing against them.
"Ginny! What's happening?"
"I don't know, I tried to stay, but they're herding all the students out, there was an attack," she said hurriedly, gripping her arm tighter, more students shoving against them despite Hermione's efforts to move towards the Great Hall doors. From afar, she spotted Hagrid barreling up the staircase she had just descended with two passed-out first years cradled in his arms. The crowd was too thick to see what was happening inside, and she could only hear the shouts and screams of her terrified classmates.
"Who—?"
"Lucius Malfoy," Ginny said, the words tumbling out of her, "Harry and Ron are still in there, and my parents—"
Her heart thudded. A chill ran through her as she thought of Draco, who was only a few floors above them. He was alone now. But he had been shocked by it too—hadn't he? She tried to recall the exact expression he wore.
Hermione beckoned Ginny to follow. She pushed back against the crowd in earnest now, one hand clasped around Ginny's and the other on her wand.
When she was finally able to step foot into the Great Hall, it reminded her eerily of the day of the Battle of Hogwarts. Today, the room had been decorated in black and purple, but it also looked as though an explosion had taken place. Broken glass littered the floor and rain fell through an open hole in the ceiling.
A few students were caught in the corners of the room away from the entrance to the Great Hall, and they cowered, crowding together, the older students keeping the younger ones behind them.
"Harry!" she shouted, her voice cracking. But Harry was occupied. His hair was damp with blood, and his wand was pointed at none other than Lucius Malfoy. Lucius's eyes were red-rimmed but alert, and he looked more haggard than Hermione had ever remembered him. Gone was his long hair, it now sat short against his pale complexion, his head only covered by a film of platinum hair.
Lucius raised his wand. "Morsmo—"
"—NO!" Ron's voice. She froze, watching Ron barrel headfirst into Lucius, a wand rolling away from them, their two bodies skidding across the floor in a tumultuous wrestle. She screamed, but it was lost amidst the crowd.
Spells shot through the air. And then, a stream of light went past, a crack following, loud and deafening. She screamed.
Lucius got himself to his feet. Then, he laughed.
She couldn't see Ron anymore. "Ron?" she yelled, and she ripped herself away from Ginny's grip.
"Hermione!" a strangled voice called out. It was Bill, knocking into her. He grasped her shoulders.
A surge of white light filled the room and Aurors in navy robes flooded into the Great Hall. Harry staggered forward, half his face painted red with blood now, looking like he was on the verge of passing out, his wand still aloft. A blinding line of blue light split through the air from the herd of Aurors, and Lucius froze, he was flung upward over the tables, and then his body crumpled.
"Hermione, don't," Bill said, and she realized that he wasn't aiding her in her plight to get to Ron, Lucius, and Harry—rather, he was impeding her.
She attempted to raise her wand arm, but Bill only gripped her tighter, the expression on his face very wrong indeed. "Ron! RON!" she yelled, a ringing in her ears that had little to do with the echoing din of the Great Hall. Tufts of red hair. A limp arm in forest green robes.
