Neville's quarters were bright and airy. Whiskey-colored drapes hung open, displaying large Gothic windows, and the high vaulted ceiling held daylight like an enchanted lantern. All around the room, friendly plants lazed in the sun, and in the center sat a honey-colored table, littered with parchment rolls that scattered to the floor.
Any remaining space was peppered with mementos and keepsakes. A lion headdress (no doubt a gift from Luna) was displayed under a Gryffindor pennant, framed photographs of his family graced the walls, and a massive Mimbulus mimbletonia grew from a cracking clay pot in the corner. Trevor, Neville's ancient pet toad, croaked from a large tank.
Neville was carrying a heaping tea tray, but when he spotted Hermione's bushy hair peeking through the door, he haphazardly dropped it onto the table and rushed to embrace her.
"Hermione! It's been too long!"
"It really has!"
Neville began shuffling the now tea-stained papers. "Sorry for the mess. I was grading the fourth year's essays on the properties of bubotuber pus." He poured two cups of tea, which they savored over treacle tart and delicious scones. A loud burst of cheering interrupted their conversation. The quidditch match must have started.
"Gryffindor is quite good this year, but I fear we won't be a match for Slytherin." Neville shook his head sadly. "Scorpius, Draco Malfoy's son, is an excellent keeper. Didn't even need Draco to pay his way onto the team. He'll be captain next year, I suspect."
"What's Scorpius like?" Hermione asked as her heartbeat quickened at the mention of Draco's name. She made sure to keep her tone even and uninterested. She wasn't sure why, but the question felt personal, as if just by asking she was giving away a secret.
"Curious and always polite. Nothing like Draco, if that's what you're wondering." Neville gave Hermione a pointed stare. Hermione blushed, but Neville did not notice. He took a bite of his scone. "First year, he was a bit standoffish, especially with me. I'm sure he heard all the stories and of my friendship with Harry Potter. But once he settled in, he turned out to be a very pleasant and promising student."
She did not know what she was expecting, but pleasant and promising was not it. Draco had been downright revolting while at Hogwarts. He was pompous and arrogant. He called her a mudblood and then watched as that very word was cursed into her skin. He even claimed the title of the only person she's ever punched. But now her vision of him seemed murkier, the past and present swirling like brackish water. Is Scorpius another a sign, a truer sign, that Draco has changed?
"Are you okay, Hermione? You seemed to disappear there for a second."
Hermione, coming back to herself, forced a small smile. More cheering erupted from the quidditch pitch.
"Yes, why wouldn't I be? Now tell me, are the rumors true about you and Merriam, the lovely herbologist in Hogsmeade?"
~X~X~
Once the cheering died down and the pitch cleared, Hermione and Neville said their goodbyes. As she cut through the trophy room on her way out, she heard a familiar voice, muffled against the trophy cases. Draco and Scorpius sat across from each other on two handsome leather chaises. A lunch, half eaten, laid on the table between them, and a happy fire danced in the hearth against the wall. In a panic, Hermione ducked behind a bookcase before they could see her.
Scorpius looked so much like Draco. He carried the same visible haughtiness and the same ingrained ease that came with power and wealth. But where Draco was all sharp edges, Scorpius seemed to have a softness. His hair was not icy but a deeper, darker golden shade akin to that of a late summer's wheat, and his eyes were more blue than grey. Scorpius was talking excitedly about Slytherin's victory, his Quidditch clothes still muddy from the match.
"With Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw down, all we have to do is beat Gryffindor in the spring to win the Cup. An undefeated season, can you imagine? Not to mention, it would be great to see James Potter's face when we destroy them. Wouldn't mind seeing him get hit with a bludger or two, either."
"Now Scorpius…" Draco scolded half-heartedly, but he was clearly enjoying the banter.
"James walks around like he owns the place. Why? Because his dad is the Harry Potter. Pfft." Scorpius took a bite of his apple. "Him and those Weasleys. Half the school is related to them. And the other half worships them."
"How about your friends, then? I haven't heard you talk about them a lot lately. You are still friends with Victor Zambini, I presume?"
"Yeah, Vic and I get along well enough, but he hangs around with The OGs." Noting the look of confusion on Draco's face, Scorpius adds quickly, "That's what the kids from Death Eater families call themselves. They all grew up together, super close. I mean, they're fine, or whatever, but the whole pureblood thing… It's so tiresome. Vic doesn't care too much about being a pureblood, he mostly cares about flirting with every girl at Hogwarts. Actually," Scorpius paused. He looked down, trying to hide his blush. He appeared to be inwardly debating whether to divulge more of himself. Draco patiently waited.
"I have made a new friend. Albus Potter? We've been spending a lot of time together…" Scorpius petered off self-consciously. When Draco said nothing, Scorpius continued. "He's not so bad, nothing like James and the rest of those gits. Albus was the only one of them to be sorted into a different house, you know, a Hufflepuff. I think they all see him as a bit of a loser. He's not even on the Quidditch team. Not that he wants to be, but… he's cool." Scorpius shrugged to appear nonchalant, but Hermione could see the tension in his shoulders and the stillness of his chest as he held in his breath. Her heart went out to the boy, knowing there was more to the story he was not yet ready to admit to his father.
"I can't imagine having dinner with the Potter's, but Albus would always be welcome." Draco's speech was slow and deliberate. Scorpius shrugged again. Draco carefully added with heartbreaking tenderness. "I will always support you, no matter what, you know that right?"
"Yeah. Okay, dad, whatever." The surly teenager returned, his shoulders noticeably more relaxed. By the sheepish grin on Scorpius' face, this was clearly the response he was hoping to receive, however, he attempted to hide this pleasure from his father.
"Well, I have some business in Hogsmeade to take care of today and you should be in the common room celebrating your win." Draco stood and hugged his son. Scorpius slung his broomstick over his shoulder.
"And no Butterbeer or Firewhisky tonight!" Draco called after Scorpius' retreating figure.
"Can't hear you!" Scorpius yelled back over his shoulder. Once his son was out of earshot, Draco sighed.
"You can come out now, Granger."
"You knew I was here?"
"Let's just say you are as quiet as a freshly plucked mandrake. It's a wonder the Golden Trio managed to stay hidden so long with how loudly you skulk about."
"I wasn't skulking. I was… checking the Quidditch rankings." Hermione pointed to a scoreboard hanging on the wall behind her. "I hear Scorpius is an excellent keeper." A hint of amusement crossed Draco's face.
"I didn't take you as someone who followed Quidditch." His voice was light and a laughing smirk played on his lips. Hermione had been caught, she knew, but was too stubborn to admit it.
"Oh yes, I, uh, love Quidditch. Of course, who doesn't? The seeker is exciting to watch and when the quandrels make it through the hoops…"
"Quaffles," Draco corrected.
"Ah yes, that's what I said, the quaffles… Oh alright you caught me." Exasperated, she threw her hands into the air. "I hid because I didn't want you to think I was following you or something."
"Mmm, and why would I think that? Unless," the fire glinted in Draco's eyes, revealing a mischievous humor, "You were, in fact, following me. Because if I were to have a stalker, I could think of worse candidates." He had been slowly moving toward her and now he was, once again, standing far too close. Hermione's heart pumped, heat rising uninhibited to her skin.
"Heading back to Hogsmeade?" Draco whispered in her ear, making the hair on her arms stand to attention. She willed her body to not react to him. He wasn't even touching her, but his closeness was becoming increasingly unbearable.
"Yes," She breathed.
"Good, I know a shortcut."
~X~X~
As they crossed the lawn, Draco proudly recounted highlights from the day's match. They were just entering the quidditch pitch, laughing at a joke Hermione heard from Ginny about a quidditch star and his broomstick, when they heard the scream. Wand drawn, Hermione rushed forward into the pitch, and after a few beats, a reluctant Draco followed in her wake. What they saw was not possible. Cedric Diggory, dressed in the black and yellow champions uniform, lay in the middle of the quidditch pitch, howling into the wind.