Chapter 6

Hermione was relieved to find that all her classes were appropriately difficult, not according to her standards, but they weren't too easy. She had worried that she would be placed in very easy classes, and would be the only remotely intelligent girl in the class. It hadn't happened before, but there was always a chance.

It seemed that the Head Boys and Girls had a great deal more to do than Harry had anticipated. Hermione knew that the Head Boy and Girl organized the Eighth year dance, but apparently Harry and Draco hadn't even known there was one.

"I have to dance?" Harry asked, panicked, remembering the Yule Ball. "I'm very bad at dancing-"

"Of course you have to," Hermione said primly, pursing her lips. "You're a Head Boy. You should dance; it's only proper. But don't worry about it now, that's not until May."


Hermione decided that it was a good time to meet with Blaise, whom she hadn't had a good conversation with since June. There were a few things she wanted his opinion on, one of them being a certain ex-boyfriend of her's.

She decided to have one of the school owls drop off a note at breakfast one morning, because she deemed that it would be too dangerous to try and intercept him in the halls. The note went something like this:

Dear Blaise,

Meet me in the Owelry after dinner tonight. Make sure you're not followed. I think Padma already suspects me.

Hermione

She tied the sparse note to one of the yawning tawny school owls, and released it out the open window. It flew around the tower once, and disappeared into the shining early morning sun. Hermione stood at the Owelry window for a moment longer, and then hurried down the stairs and back to her breakfast.


Hermione hurried back up the familiar steps of the Owelry after dinner, her footsteps hitting the stone with a slap. She finally reached the top; and was relieved to find no one there. She busied herself with a book she had brought, (Famous Muggles Who Were Actually Wizards, by Kyla Snardanki) and she waited for Blaise with her usual patience. It seemed to Hermione that she spent a great deal of her time waiting for things to happen.

Finally, he deemed a good time to appear with his usual grace and flamboyant manners.

"Hermione," he said, giving a deep bow once he reached the top of the stairs. "I received your letter this morning, and I am honored to be in your illustrious presence." As usual, he was dressed impeccably with his cloak thrown over his shoulder like a matador's cape. There was not a spot of dust on his shiny shoes, and he seemed vaguely out of place in the Owelry, which was covered in bird droppings and dusty feathers that clung to the walls.

Hermione grinned at his blatant humor. "Evening, Blaise. How are you?"

"Perfect, if I might say, my lady," Blaise replied with a grin. "And you are?"

"Quite well," she said, adopting a royal air as if she was donning a majestic gold dress. "But, my dear squire, I have a matter of utmost urgency."

Blaise dropped his servile attitude and was immediately attentive. He leaned heavily against the wall next to her, his vivid green eyes fixed on her's. In many ways he reminded her of Harry; though Blaise was suave and debonair, whilst Harry was scruffy and always on the edge of insanity.

"What's wrong?"

Hermione also deigned to give up the act, and became normal, though she missed the gaiety the conversation had started out with. "You've seen Luc, haven't you?"

Blaise furrowed his brow. "Yes, he's in my house now. He has a few friends, mostly low class trash-"

"Blaise!" Hermione said angrily. "It's stupid comments like that that put us in this awful war! Haven't you ever thought of that? It doesn't matter what 'class' someone is, as long as their character has merit. And how is someone supposed to have a good personality if everyone treats them as if they're horrible and no good, just because of their birth."

Blaise flushed. "I understand Hermione, they're not really low-class, or trash. They're jerks. Luc doesn't know whom he's getting mixed up with. And he doesn't trust me; or Draco."

Hermione shook her head tiredly. "I don't know what to do about him, I'm worried about him. He's getting into trouble. He has no idea that Draco is his half-brother, and that he has a twin."

"Draco's his half-brother?" Blaise asked, clearly surprised, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

"Didn't I tell you?" Hermione asked, cocking her head. "I thought I did, but that's okay. He also has a half-sister, but I can't tell you who that is. She goes to Hogwarts."
"Ah," Blaise remarked. "That's interesting, because Luc does look like Lucius. I thought maybe they were related, especially after Luc got sorted into Slytherin.

"Yeah," Hermione said sarcastically. "The family resemblance is really showing up all over the place."

Blaise stood at the open window, looking out pensively. "Well, the Malfoy clan is bigger than anyone ever realizes. All pure-bloods are related, rather closely too. Draco is actually a second cousin of mine."

"You're kidding!" Hermione snapped. "Good god, when am I ever going to escape you all?"

Blaise laughed. "Draco and I have been trying to do that for forever, you're not alone."


Hermione took the long way back to the tower, wanting to think about all the things she and Blaise had talked about. Thoughts raced through her head, and she was shocked to find that she was at loss for what to do.

Eventually she arrived at the tower, and gave Mr. Shakespeare the password. He swung open reluctantly, and she found Draco alone in the living room, staring fixedly at the fire.

"Hey," she said, kissing him on the cheek as she sat down beside him on the couch. "What's up?"

He continued to stare at the fire as if he hadn't heard her. Finally, he spoke, and when he did, it was quiet and depressed.

"Hey."

"What's wrong?" she asked. He shrugged, and continued to stare at the orange and red flames licking the log and the walls of the fireplace. There was a mirror over the fireplace, and Hermione found herself gazing at her reflection.

Her thick hair was slightly tousled; her brown eyes rimmed with red. Staring at her tired and bedraggled appearance, she suddenly felt exhausted.

"Come on, Draco," she said, standing. He stood up slowly, and then took her hand in his. It was clammy, and she felt a shiver of cold run down her back, as if she was touching a corpse.

When they reached her room, he released her hand, kissed her lightly, and then continued up to his room without a word.

She hurried into her room, and realized that the room was freezing. She hurried over to the open window, and shut it with a bang. She looked down at her still numb hand, and realized that he had been digging his nails into the side of her hand, and she hadn't even noticed. The crescents of his nails were imprinted into the fleshy part of her hand, reminding her of the moon.


A/N: Hello... leave a review! And for all of you who live in America, or are an American living over seas, happy fourth!