The rest of the walk to Hogsmeade felt longer than usual. I attributed that partly to the awkward feeling between us, and partly because of my rush to get there. Draco and I made casual conversation, avoiding certain subjects, one of which being what my plan was once getting to Hogsmeade. He didn't need to know, not yet at least. Eventually, we made it to Hogsmeade, right into High Street. Along the strip stood all the different shops, most of which looked to have only a handful of people in them. Not many students were present. Perfect, and just the set up I needed.
"Now, do you remember what we talked about before?" I asked, turning to face him.
"For the last time, yes," Draco groaned, eyeing me as I looked for a piece of parchment in my pockets. "I have no intention of stalking you. What are you planning on doing while at Hogsmeade that you're so insistent on keeping me away, anyway?"
"Don't ask questions you don't want the answers to," I lectured, opening up the scrap of parchment, making sure I had the right one. With that, I looked back up. "Alright, now, repeat after me."
"After me."
"You're not funny," I lowered my eyes at him.
"Draco, you're hilarious," he went on, wiggling his head for emphasis. I frowned in return.
"Stop trying to misconstrue my words into some convoluted mess."
"I like to use words that are bigger than I am to confuse people, and make me look smart," Draco called, placing a hand gently on his chest. I frowned, making him smirk.
"Be serious, please," I sighed at his behavior. Draco raised his hands in agreement. "Now, repeat after me. 'I, Draco Malfoy, will not follow you, Katerina, while we are in Hogsmeade."
"I will not follow you around Hogsmeade," Draco grumbled in repeat. It wasn't exactly as I had said it, but the sentiment was there. With that in mind, I went on.
"I will spend my time doing something obnoxious, probably with Pansy, and leave you to spend time doing what you will without asking questions," I called the last bit louder, watching his eyes begin to roll.
"I will spend time with my girlfriend and leave you to probably get arrested. But don't worry, I'm sure they'll put you in one of the low-security cells, so I'll be able to visit you in Azkaban," Draco let out a grand smile at the proclamation. For a moment I paused. I considered arguing with him, but that smirk told me it would be pointless. Instead, I gave him a sigh.
"Alright, I think I've made my point. Just make sure you remember what I asked of you. And get everything on this list, too," I added, finally handing him the scrap of parchment. Draco took it, but with distaste. "I thought of a few more things I needed while revising my Potions notes. There are some more things I want to practice and I can't well ask Professor Snape every time I need something, he's much too busy for that."
"Yeah, I got it, I'll buy your stupid plants!"
"They're not plants, they're ingredients, consisting of different herbs, extracts, and—Draco!" I snapped when he began pretending his eyes were rolling to the back of his head. "I'm serious, I have something to do today, but these supplies are very important."
"I got it, I got it!" he snapped back, rubbing at his ear. "For fuck's sake."
"Language," I hissed, Draco raising his hands sarcastically. As he put them back, he added the piece of parchment to his robe's pocket. "Now, I'll try to meet you before you head back to make sure you got everything, but I want to be able to trust you with this."
"Oh you trust me with bunches of leaves, but you can't trust me enough to tell me what you're doing," Draco grumbled to the side.
"It's not that I don't trust you, I just know that if I tell you, all you'll do is complain," I pouted, though Draco finally gave me a smile. "I will tell you, eventually, just not right now. Eventually. I just have to—"
"You ready?" Pansy interjected loudly. Waiting no time for a reply, she took a tight hold of his arm. Her smile shifted my way, losing all warmth as it met me. She got here quick; must have been following us. "What were we talking about?"
"Draco has agreed to run an errand, while I have some business," I answered honestly, met with fake disappointment. Ignoring that, I pulled my bag further up my shoulder before continuing. "If you don't see something on the list, ask for it, don't just say they didn't have it."
"Would you stop, I said I got it," Draco called out, letting Pansy drag him away.
I frowned at the sight of them. Part of me wanted to follow after, to wipe that arrogant smirk off her face, but I shook my head at the thought. This was no time for that, there was no time for that. We had already spent too much time talking. Pulling my bag further up on my shoulder, I set my sights further up High Street.
Hermione had mentioned a meeting, happening today. Apparently, after our little meeting at the library a couple of weeks back, she had decided to do a bit of thinking about what would happen with Defense Against the Dark Arts. She suggested that anyone who was interested in lessons from Potter join up on the next Hogsmeade trip. That piqued my interest. The real issue had been the location she had chosen, the Hog's Head Inn.
I walked quickly up High Street, but trying to keep a nonchalant pace. Keeping an eye out on anyone nearby, I etched closer to the wall, between two of the less populated shops. Waiting another second to make sure no one could see, I headed into the gap between the buildings, and behind the outlets. I ran in, further into the empty space that separated the shops from the rest of the village, the other students visible only through the small gaps in the buildings. Certainly, if I lived in a place constantly being visited by loud and bothersome children I would want some degree of separation between us too. And that assurance made this specific situation very convenient.
I kept to the backs of buildings, keeping away from everyone. I recognized the area well enough to be sure of where I was going, or so I hoped at least. The gathering of owls up above made me sure I had reached the Hogsmeade Post Office, meaning I was nearing the end of the street, and Hog's Head Inn. I kept an eye on the surrounding windows as I neared the building, they were opaque. Good. I couldn't see inside, and that meant no one could see outside, either. It took me only a moment to look, but I found what I thought to be an appropriate hiding spot, far enough from the building but easy enough to find. Focusing on that spot, I took out my wand and pointed it to the ground.
"Defodio," I called, and half a meter of dirt sprouted up from the ground. I made a face, looking at the dirt that had splattered on my shoes.
Taking one last glance around, I opened my bag, taking off my Slytherin cloak. It was too easy to identify. If I walked in wearing that, it would take no time for someone to realize who the only Slytherin invited would have been. From inside the bag, I pulled out a thick and oversized black coat, wrapping it around myself. I had been careful while getting dressed in the morning, choosing an oversized dress, loose high collar, matching the fabric and color of the cloak as best as I could.
I twisted my body back and forth, watching the two fabrics bleed into themselves. That should make it difficult to guess certain identifiers such as body shape and contours. The final touches were the gloves and hair, putting the prior on and the latter up. With everything else set, I pulled the cloak's hood over my eyes. I had tested the size of the hood before, making sure it lay low enough to cover my eyes, but not so low that I couldn't see. All I really needed was to be able to walk without bumping into anyone.
Grabbing my Slytherin robes, I stuffed them into my bag before grabbing the only three things I would need; some galleon, my wand, and a couple of scraps of parchment I had written on earlier. Glancing once more to make sure I was alone, I kicked my bag into the hole I had created on the ground, waving my wand so the dirt that had spread out covered it entirely. I took a deep breath then pulled my collar up, covering the bottom half of my face, before making my way towards the building. With a few steps on top of the pile, to make sure there were no unsightly bumps on the earth, I made a mental note of where my belongings were buried and walked back into High Street.
While students were technically allowed inside, they weren't the targeted demographic for Hog's Head. Much like Knockturn Alley, you were free to come and go, but there was a reason it was less popular than the more visited alternatives. Inside there was some light coming through the windows but, as I had assumed, they were just as opaque from inside as they were out. Through a closer look, it seemed as though that cloudiness was brought on more by filth than any design choice. Being inside, I was already feeling content with my choice of clothing. I had a feeling that, without the thick fabric covering my face, the smell would have been unendurable. With Merlin's grace, I would never have to take another step into this dung pile again. Aside from that, it seemed I was appropriately dressed.
Upon entering there looked to be four patrons already in the building. Two were talking amongst themselves, both shrouded in hoods, a thickly veiled witch was making herself comfortable near a fireplace, and the last of them, a man whose head was wrapped in dirtied grey bandages, sat drinking at the bar. I frowned at the last of the bunch. It was one thing to be covered in filth, but on top of it all, he was gulping down Firewhisky at an alarming rate. The barkeep set down another cup for the drunkard, and with a silent sigh to myself, I took a step towards him.
The barkeep, whom I assumed was also the innkeeper, was a tall, old man. He also looked greatly annoyed, as would be expected from someone in charge of a place like this. There was something recognizable in his face, though not likely I would have ever met someone like him before. I stopped a few paces away from the bandaged man at the bar, I didn't care about his business and I didn't need him knowing mine. Discovering he had a new guest, the barkeep frowned as he came to meet me at my place in the bar. But before he could grunt out the words, I grabbed the first of the scraps of parchment and slid it onto the bar. He let out a gruff breath and grabbed it.
"You want a room?" the old man grumbled, and I nodded in return. My voice would not only give away my age and gender, but if anyone in the room was associated with either Ministry, Hogwarts, or my father, it would make all of this effort worthless. "You got the coin for that?"
I responded to that by simply setting down a handful of galleon on the bar. I had come prepared. Thankfully, the old man didn't seem to find that odd, just looked slightly annoyed as he reached for a set of keys. Still giving some low grumbles as he went, the barkeep stepped away from the bar and gestured for me to follow. With a frown, I followed the man up the very poorly constructed staircase. The handrail was the only thing giving me any sort of stability, but I almost wanted to do without. It took great restraint to resist the urge to rub the dirt now coating my gloves, made even more obvious by the black contrast of the fabric. Any tics like that were clear identifiers. It was better to pretend this was the sort of place I could stomach, as disgusting as it was, I needed to pretend this was the sort of place I could frequent.
On the second floor of the disgusting inn, there seemed to be a bit of a sitting area. A quaint fireplace lay in the middle of it all, and above that a portrait. The blond girl, looking much younger than most portraits did, had a vacant look in her eyes. It didn't seem she was paying attention to who came and went from the room. Seeing as she wasn't saying much herself, I chose to ignore her for now, focusing my attention on the old barkeep instead. Having stopped at one of the room doors, he opened it without a word. While I was still trying to figure out how things were likely to go downstairs, the old man lost what little patience he had.
"Hurry it up," the innkeeper snapped, gesturing me in. Thankfully, the fabric over my face masked my scowl. Normally I wouldn't allow someone to speak to me in that way but, again, I didn't have much of a choice. Still, there was something else I needed. Having guessed as much would happen, I brought out the second scrap of written on parchment, holding it out to the barkeep. He gave me an annoyed frown but took it. After reading the single sentence scribbled, he looked back up expectantly. "You want to pick?"
If I knew Hermione, which I was certainly hoping I did, she would choose to sit her group far from the bar, thinking that might somehow help in keeping their meeting hushed. Logically that might make sense, but truthfully this place resonated like an amphitheater. This was a clear example of where textbook solutions and real-life experience made the difference. But following along with that sort of thought process, she would most likely pick the corner that seemed least crowded, assuming it would give some sense of privacy. If the patrons downstairs had stayed in roughly the same area, it would narrow the places they could gather into the nook furthest from the door.
Keeping the downstairs layout in mind, I held out my arm, pointing to the proper one. The innkeeper grumbled once more but slammed the door he had previously opened, turning to unlock the one I had requested. It probably helped that I had given him a bit more than the asking rate for a room normally was. As always, I had made sure to do my research. A moment after the door swung open we heard voices from below, bringing another annoyed look to the barkeep's face. I waited outside the door until I heard the creak from the staircase, making sure he was nearly downstairs, before entering the room and locking the door shut behind me.
I took a second to glance out of the window. They seemed to be just as opaque as the ones downstairs and, upon further inspection, realized that the tint was truly caused by muck. Opening the window took a second longer than it should have, it pointed towards the back of the inn instead of High Street like I had been anxious of. Perfect. I sighed and pulled at the window, making sure it was closed tight, pulling the curtains closed with it. With a slow breath, I took the collar down from my face and frowned. My thoughts had been right, the smell was far worse outside of the fabric. Carefully I lowered myself closer to the floor, I took a second to stand and listen. Downstairs the two cloaked wizards could be heard chatting about, muffled but a good sign nonetheless.
For a moment I considered sitting on the bed while I waited, but one look at it made me reconsider that as an option. Sure I saw something crawl through the surface of the sheets, I decided to stand.
It only took a few more minutes for the second set of sounds to be heard; someone new had just entered downstairs. The noise was muffled but I was sure. I tightened the grip on my wand, taking advantage of the distraction the new guests were certainly causing. I swept the floor lightly with my robes, not wanting there to be too much debris to give me away. Pointing my wand down on the floor, I etched a small circle in the remaining dirt, stopping to rest at its center. For a moment, I stood perfectly still, listening for voices and movement. They were closer, but not close, maybe at the bar. I waited impatiently until the voices perked up again. They were directly below me now. I readied myself, waiting for an opportunity until finally, I heard a rise in volume from below.
"Evanesco."
"—prefect!" a voice snarled under me. With a smile, I recognized it to be Hermione.
"Oh. Yeah…" a second voice called disappointedly from the small hole now on the floor. This time it sounded like Ronald. I let out a sigh, realizing my created opening hadn't been heard. Also, from realizing how close I had graced by them. A minute or two later and they would have seen me at the inn's entrance, or worse, outside of it.
"So who did you say is supposed to be meeting us?" the third and final voice called. Potter, from the sound of it, took a slurping drink of some sort. I frowned down at the floorboards. I truly hoped he wasn't simple enough to accept a drink from such a filthy establishment.
"Just a couple of people. I told them to be here about now and I'm sure they all know where it is—oh look, this might be them now—" Hermione went quiet, and following the closing of door heard far too many footsteps.
"Just how many people did she invite?" I mumbled softly to myself, noting that even with the echoes of the old inn, that sounded like too many. I was no expert on echolocation, but I would put my guess at eight, maybe ten students.
"A couple of people? A couple of people?" Potter's voice called over to her in alarm.
"Hi," The distinct voice of Fred sounded from a little ways away. "Could we have… twenty-five butterbeers, please?"
I put my hand to my mouth quickly, to keep from making the noise I otherwise would have. He said twenty-five people. I was truly hoping he was joking, but something told me that he wasn't. Twenty-five people. I had never before doubted in Hermione's intelligence, but how could she possibly think it proper to choose such a desolate meeting place for a group of twenty-five people.
"Cough up, everyone, I haven't got enough gold for all of these…" Fred called out, sounding much closer now.
I took a deep breath once more, putting the prior thought as a discussion to have with her later, and focusing on the topic at hand. There was a bit of a pause in their conversation. No doubt Potter didn't know where to begin. Honestly, I wouldn't know what they all were expecting either. After a slight and awkward hello, and a brief introduction from Hermione, she went on to explain the reason she believed this group of hers was needed. Essentially it was more of what we had discussed; she wanted more than just lessons on theory, she wanted a real teacher.
"You want to pass your Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. too though, I bet?" someone unfamiliar asked.
"Of course I do," Hermione quickly spoke up. "But I want more than that, I want to be properly trained in Defense because… because…" she took a bit of a breath before finishing her sentence. "Because Lord Voldemort's back."
I felt myself drop at the sound of His name. A light thud came from the floorboards, but thankfully nobody seemed to have heard. Downstairs, they were all preoccupied with their own reactions, as well as the reactions of those outside of their group. Hermione wasn't an idiot, she must have known the gravity of the words she was saying. She should know better than to speak His name in such a public place, especially if she knew the Dark Lord had returned. There was a reason he was known through aliases such as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Only those against him used his name, and with the possibility that someone in this very inn could be affiliated with him, she should not be speaking so flippantly. He had grown powerful not just from skill but by his capability to have eyes and ears everywhere. Seeing as He has been hiding himself this long, the most likely conclusion is that He is trying to restrengthen the latter.
Hermione's comments, of course, were immediately followed up with criticism. Shifting from where I had fallen, I slowly leaned back, until my robes were resting against the disgusting, and seemingly rotted, wooden floors. It wasn't done for comfort, but I knew it would help me hear, at least a little better. Arguing continued as those who had thus far been uninvolved were obviously trying to stay in denial. If the Dark Lord was back, these people's little mundane lives would be tossed out into havoc. Hermione tried to defend herself downstairs, defend Potter, but eventually he stood himself.
"What makes me say You-Know-Who's back? I saw him," Potter's voice spoke up defensively. "But Dumbledore told the whole school what happened last year, and if you didn't believe him, you don't believe me, and I'm not wasting an afternoon trying to convince anyone."
It was quiet for a moment again. I stared up at the ceiling from my place on the floor. Taking in a deep breath, I let it out just as slowly. It was too quiet, not just them but the other patrons too. They were being listened to. Starting things out that way made things complicated, but with how unreasonable the students were being, I doubted they would have listened to Potter otherwise. Even still, once the silence broke, the same bratty voice spoke up to argue. As they bickered, Potter's tone grew sharper as well. Hermione's voice continued trying to reign everyone back into order, but the students kept refuting until their questions became a bit less negative.
"Is it true, that you can produce a Patronus?" a girl's curious voice asked.
"Yeah," Potter replied defensively. I smiled a bit at that. Not that I blamed him for it, it made sense with the constants of negative questions he had gotten, but that's not how she had meant it.
"A corporeal Patronus?"
Before I could wonder how this girl would know that very specific detail she explained her relation to one of the Wizengamot that had stood trial over Potter's disciplinary hearing. Potter confirmed the statement and, upon hearing that, other questions began to spiral from the students present. They stemmed from his rumored encounter with a Basilisk, to finding the Philosopher's Stone, to his feats at the Triwizard Tournament. It essentially opened a cornucopia of confirmation to any rumors they might have heard about him. Dragons, Dementors, they were making him sound like some reincarnation to the Labors of Heracles. But one apple out of the bunch still seemed displeased.
"Well, we've all turned up to learn from him, and now he's telling us he can't really do any of it," the same annoying voice that had been rebutting him this whole time announced.
"That's not what he said," Fred called sounding as annoyed as I felt with the constant interruptions with this kid.
"Would you like us to clean out your ears for you?" George's voice took its turn to ask.
"Or any part of your body, really, we're not fussy where we stick this."
I suppressed a giggle at the two, noting the very clear threat in their voice. Having also noticed the tone, another voice perked up.
"Yes, well," Hermione quickly spoke, "moving on… the point is, are we agreed we want to take lessons from Harry?"
After a pause, and some more positive-sounding murmurs, she spoke up again.
"Right," she called simply, but sounding relieved. "Well, then, the next question is how often we do it. I really don't think there's any point meeting in less than once a week—"
"Hang on," a loud, slightly familiar female voice piped up, "we need to make sure this doesn't clash with our Quidditch practice."
"No, nor with ours," a second voice spoke out.
"Nor ours," called a third.
"Nor ours," I grumbled silently to myself, realizing I would now have to worry about such things. Nothing was set in stone just yet but I doubted the team would deny my offer with what Draco has told me. But I had warned Graham, if things got too bothersome I would just leave.
Regardless, scheduling did seem like it might become an issue, especially if she had invited at least one person from each house, as it seemed that she had. After that, the group turned to lighter conversation, less scrutiny and simply a discussion of Umbridge's incompetence, or more questions for details. When they would start, how often the sessions would take place, where they would meet, and so forth. It seemed like they had the meeting all but concluded when Hermione spoke up once more, bringing out a sign-in sheet.
With that, I sat up from the floor and shook my head. Up until now I had considered the possibility that I had been a little too cautious, but she had just proved me right. No offense intended towards Hermione, I actually rather respected her, but the handling of this had been sloppy at best. From the location, to the people by the sound of it, and now asking everyone in attendance to sign proof of their presence. I had hope she had the foresight to charm the parchment so the names were invisible without a spoken phrase, or perhaps contained some sort of secrecy vow, anything. But a list like that could be of value to specific people, and it didn't have to be left lying around to be discovered. And no matter how slim the chance of the latter happening, I would have never signed that parchment. That in itself was enough to justify my actions to myself.
I stretched my arms out and huffed to my feet. That was enough for me, I got what I needed. Making sure my collar was fixed securely, covering my face, I threw the hood of my cloak back on. As voices mumbled on downstairs, I stared out of the window and down to the far ground. The room was on the second floor, but there wasn't much choice in the matter. If I went down now one of them might recognize me, if I left directly after the group it would look too suspicious to the patrons and innkeeper, and I certainly wasn't going to spend the whole night in this disgusting inn.
Opening the window completely, I let out a steady breath, taking a step onto the windowsill.
Hovering over the edge, I looked down at the options I had. A handful of scattered trees were nearby, but not anywhere close enough for me to safely reach. There were options, but if I didn't properly isolate the spell or even missed, the roots could get affected. That risk was a little too great. Instead, I pointed my wand at a cluster of rocks and pebbles directly below the window. Convenient.
"Engorgio."
Once the stone grew to an appropriate size, I jumped off the window and onto it, admittedly quite clumsily. I frowned down at the jagged ends of the grown rock, but there was no time to complain. I immediately pointed my wand down and called the second incantation.
"Reducio."
I stumbled forward as the rock quickly shrank back to its original size, speeding away from the building as soon as my feet touched the ground. First hand I had seen how grimy and opaque the windows were, but there was no sense in taking the chance. Working to steady my breath, I listened to my surroundings, but there was no sign of anyone around. As soon as I was sure I was alone, I let out a groan and took off my hood, collar, and now filthy gloves. With the grime off and out of the way, I placed the gloves in my robe's pocket and turned down to inspect the damage.
There was a bruise on my right leg, I could feel it since I stepped off the rock. One on my ankle as well. But there was no visible blood, nothing broken. I would survive. Clothes were still intact, thankfully, so I wouldn't have to worry about that either. With a sigh, knowing it could have turned out worse, I walked slowly towards where I remember having left my bag. Also, I made a mental note to secure any and all escape routes before actually needing them from now on.
"Defodio."
With the charm spoken, I grabbed my bag as it finished digging itself out from below. Still making sure no one was visibly around, I took off my cloak completely, making a second mental note to burn the garments later. I didn't want evidence, and I wasn't expecting to wear them ever again after the nightmare it had been coated in. Taking my hair down to the manner it normally lay in, I reached into my bag to grab the proper robes. Unexpectedly, I let out a slight hiss, as the fabric scraped a patch of tender skin along my arm. It must have rubbed against one of the jagged ends of the rock as I had it reduced. Sloppy. I frowned to myself, partly from discomfort but mostly from annoyance. I should have done better than to nearly slice my arm open, but I doubted it was so bad if I had just now noticed it. Thankfully there wasn't any blood, so I would worry about it later.
As things finished getting packed I began to hear voices nearby. People were beginning to exit the bar. I inched closer to the entrance, only near enough to watch the students filter out of the building. From those I saw exiting, it was clear that not one of them was a Slytherin, not that it was a surprise. Besides, if what I overheard was correct, and Hermione had really made some sort of signed attendance sheet, it was a good idea to have simply overheard. Take a guess as to who's name would be called upon if and when that information was leaked; perhaps the only Slytherin present?
As I was about to take a step into the crowd, in an attempt to blend into the other students in Hogsmeade, I heard the crunching of footsteps behind me. I froze instantly. My mind had been so preoccupied with the entrance I hadn't glanced around me. It was one thing if they found me on High Street, but if we were behind the building, it was possible this wasn't a student. They could have also been here longer than I had sensed, meaning they could have seen more than I wanted them to. The grip around my wand tightened. I waited a moment as the steps got closer; either a centaur had found its way to Hogsmeade, or there was more than one of them. I spun around, seconds away from calling the enchantment when I became engulfed in a hug.
"Damn it, George—!"
"You were right, it was her," I heard Fred call.
"I thought I recognized that tiny body of yours," George chuckled, as I began to hit his shoulder, now through with the initial bout of confusion.
"I've told you not to sneak up on me like that!" I spoke up again, feeling a mixture of irritation and relief. At least it was just them. "Do you realize how easily I could have just—"
"What are you hiding back here for?"
"Reconsidering whether I should have stopped myself from Hexing you," I answer pointedly at Fred. George chuckled, either not believing me or just being that oblivious. Still upset, I let out a sharp breath. "There's no sense in lying to you since you very clearly saw me here, and I don't think you're too simple-minded to miss it—"
"Was that her attempt at a compliment?" Fred grinned at his brother.
"I didn't want to be seen as part of the group, but I was curious about the meeting," I went on, ignoring the comment. "I came to listen in."
"You were at the meeting? I didn't see you in the meeting," George mumbled to himself, as I pushed him successfully off me, but not before scraping against my damaged arm.
"In order to secure myself, I will not be answering that. But let's just say I won't be needing you to tell me any of your half-truths about it," I answered sharply, partly from the pain, and some from past annoyance. George gave me an apologetic smile, while Fred held himself unapologetically behind him. I gave a sigh at the two.
"Well, since we found you here, want to help Georgie and I procure some ethically questionable ingredients?" Fred asked casually, all while holding his hands mischievously in a steeple.
"As fun as you do make that sound," I admitted, "I have my own things to hunt for today. I should, for one, not be sneaking behind a dirty old pub where a questionable meeting just took place. And, two, I have to go meet with Draco—"
"What for?" George loudly interrupted, with a vexed expression.
"Don't interrupt," I frowned back. "I assigned him some ingredients I needed to have picked up. I wasn't sure how long the meeting would be, but since there is still some time, I want to go check on him."
"Did you tell him about the meeting?" George questioned, still grumbling.
"No, because I wasn't part of this meeting, just like you two didn't see me at this meeting," I called the words out clear. "Since there is no evidence to say I was ever involved, and neither of you are going to talk about this. Right?"
"Right," both repeated, with different degrees of enthusiasm.
Looking at his frown, I poked George where his furrowed brows met. He was still grumbling, but he'd be okay. As if to prove my thoughts right, George grabbed my waist, leaning himself against my back. Together, he and Fred led the way to the edge and entrance of High Street, not bothering to wait for my sanction. We stopped between two shops, students walking by not paying us any mind.
"So he's really that useless without you?" George grumbled, watching as Fred casually blended into the crowd in front of us. I gave George a small smile; it would be a disservice to Draco, but sometimes I believed he was. At that, George sighed and let go of his grip on me.
"We can talk later," I reassured, pulling my bag further up on my shoulder. "But sneak up on me again, and I won't stop myself from casting something, whether I recognize it's you or not."
"Love you," George kissed my cheek before stepping forward himself.
I gave them a wave as I watched George wander forward. Fred stood waiting for him, having found their friend Lee, whose voice I was sure I had heard at the meeting as well. Once joined, the three wandered down High Street, set on whatever bad idea they had in mind for this trip. With a deep breath, I stepped forward, mixing into the crowd. Following the same way I went in, I turned the post office, past a couple of shops, and the bustle of the other students. As I walked I straightened myself out self-consciously, worried some of the filth had lingered onto the new set of robes.
Still thinking about that meeting, I weaved in and out of some specific shops. Considering the list I had given him, I figured I knew where he would be. That was, at least, as long as he was actually doing what I had asked him to do. But it only took until the third stop before I found him. Strangely enough, he was alone. I thought at the very least Pansy would still be hanging off his arm. Draco stood outside of the entrance, grumbling down at my list, only noticing me when he looked back up. I gave him a smile, but he wasn't so quick to give me one back.
"What took you so long?" Draco called as he began to step towards me. As we met I stepped forward, leading the way. Rolling his eyes at me, he didn't look happy but still followed.
"I don't think I took that long," I shrugged, pulling my bag up with it. Still in the lead, I made my way towards the bridge. Not that I was ready for us to go, but I wanted to check what he had gathered so far, and that was usually the best place to do so. Everyone always went straight into the shops or the castle, not many lingered on the in-between. We would be left alone. But before we reached it, I was curious about something other than my ingredients. "So, where is Pansy?"
"With Daphne," Draco answered simply, keeping his pace with mine. I frowned a little towards him. Earlier in the day she had seemed so adamant about being with him. As if guessing my expression Draco gave me a smirk, but continued to look ahead. "I think she got bored of staring at leaves and twigs all day."
"Please tell me you didn't actually just get twigs and leaves," I huffed, reaching for his bag.
Draco pulled his bag away from my grip. I pouted but he continued to walk forward. The bridge was now in sight, so I'm sure he could guess where we were going. With a grumble, I followed after him. With only a few steps away, Draco reached the bridge before me, walking some paces into it and taking the time to lean himself against the fencing. I gave him a glowering look as I met him. Once again I tried to grab his back, only to have him pull it away from me, again. Draco gave me a self-satisfied smirk, chuckling to himself as I got more annoyed.
"You have so little faith in me," he mockingly shook his head at me.
I continued to sulk, crossing my arms at him. Still smiling to himself, he leaned forward and towards me. Draco stretched an arm, wrapping it around me. But the moment his arm touched mine I winced, pushing him sharply away from me. Without a word, Draco leaned himself back against the bridge's fencing. His expression seemed hurt, but only for a moment. Soon enough he covered the expression with a more casual annoyance. And, noting my lingering stare, he finally spoke up about it.
"For fuck's sake," he grumbled, putting up a stern face, "so now you're literally pushing me away."
"Sorry, no, it's not you," I assured, straightening myself out. "And, language."
He continued to give me an annoyed look, but I chose to ignore it. Until now I had only really felt the damage in my legs, and I knew there was something on my arm, but this pain was new. Carefully removing my bag, I turned to face over the fence. With a small groan, I lifted my arm out of the cloak, keeping my back to the crowd passing behind us. Turning to where I had felt the sharp pain, I pulled my sleeve up. The skin seemed red, not with blood rather just a bit skinned, so already it was better than I had expected, better than it had felt. Not a moment after I had noted the damage myself, Draco stepped forward, grabbing my fallen cloak in one hand and my wrist with his other. Using my cloak as a kind of barrier between us and the crowd, he lifted my arm to get a better look. Looking back up, his unpleasant expression was now replaced with a new one.
"You hurt yourself," Draco hissed. "What the hell were you doing?"
"Language," I snapped, pulling my wrist from his grip. Not fighting me like he normally did, I got my wrist back. Using the opportunity, I carefully slid down my sleeve, placing my arm back into the cloak. "And I'm fine, really. I was just stupid, and underestimated how much damage a pebble could make."
"You expect me to believe you got this from a pebble? And you didn't answer my question. What were you doing?" he repeated, in a more serious tone.
"Nothing you need to know about just yet," I insisted, grabbing my bag back up.
"You're hurt," he insisted loudly in return.
"And it is no one's fault but my own, so shush," I hissed at him, looking at a few passing students. One glanced in our direction but didn't look too interested, turning back to continue chatting with her group. As I readjusted my cloak, I had to admit, the fabric rubbing against my skin was starting to hurt. The cloak was heavy, it was causing unnecessary friction. That may irritate the wound; the skin might break, maybe even bleed. "It looks surface level, I'll be fine, but I'm going to go back to the castle to help the process along. Stay here, and get the rest of my things would you?"
"I'm coming with you."
"Oh, because of your extensive knowledge of healing remedies?"
"Stop being a brat, let's go!" Draco scolded, grabbing onto my wrist. He started walking, pulling me unwillingly along with him.
"What about my ingredients?" I argued, pulling back at my wrist. It obviously didn't give. Annoyed I frowned at him, but his frown was focused ahead of us.
"I already got them, now come on," he called, tugging at my wrist.
The whole walk back, Draco wouldn't hear any of it. In the same stem of stubbornness, he didn't let go of my wrist the whole way back. Although, the latter of which was most likely because he knew me better than to trust letting me go. Even after arriving at the castle, Draco ushered me past the halls, down the steps, and into the dungeon. He only paused when we reached the entrance of the Slytherin common room. Not sure where to go, he turned back and forth between the entrance and the stairway. It seems he hadn't thought that part through. I rolled my eyes and chose the way, pulling his grip along with me.
"Come on," I sighed, leading him behind the stairs.
Quietly, I pulled both of us into the hidden Room. Inside it was empty, making me frown. It would have saved us plenty of time if Lev was here to help, but I would just have to settle things myself. Beginning with taking off my coat, I set my bag down on the counter. Draco followed my lead as I moved to sit on my chair, focusing on my shoes next. It wasn't painful necessarily, but it was uncomfortable and a bit annoying, to put that pressure on my ankle. I threw my legs over the arm of the chair, deciding to take my stockings off next. I laid them down on the desk before pushing myself standing. Behind me, Draco seemed to be looking around the room. Turning back to focus on my attire, I grabbed a pair of nearby scissors.
"What are you doing?" Draco demanded as he watched me start to cut the fabric. I rolled my eyes at him and continued.
"Trust me, I was planning on burning it anyway," I assured.
Draco kept his frown, but remained silent, letting me continue. I cut the skirt of the dress to the knee, better to see the bruise with. Next, I moved to my arm, cutting just my left sleeve off at the shoulder. I frowned down at the mark, noting it was redder than I remembered it. The fabric was certainly irritating the wound. After putting the scissors down, I walked to my potions set up. Leaning down, I opened the cupboard in order to prepare the brew.
"So how exactly are you planning to help?" I asked over my shoulder, having felt him hovering as I attempted to pull the cauldron up. With a groan, I let it drop in my arms.
"Maybe I'll start here," Draco answered in an arrogant tone. He pulled the cauldron up effortlessly, placing it in its proper place. I gave him a look, but he simply smiled at me. Rolling my eyes, I moved to gather supplies.
"Fine, fill it with water, and start the fire."
Before grabbing the supplies, I reached for a small jar of liquid. With that in hand, I dowsed a cloth in the liquid before finding a place to rest. This time, I sat on my desk. Stretching to reach the damage on my arm, it annoyed me to find that I couldn't quite place its location. I tried it twice, three times, eventually frowning down at myself when I couldn't quite reach it. Without announcing himself, Draco grabbed my wrist and took the rag from me.
"Give me that," Draco sighed, walking around the table. Taking my damaged arm into his hands, Draco began to dab the wound. Roughly dab the wound.
"Ow! Gently!" I cried.
"I'm doing it the way you told me," he answered blandly. I frowned, knowing I hadn't said anything. Guessing what my expression meant, Draco smiled. He turned back down to the wound, but he was much more careful this time. "I've been treating your wreckless aftermath since we were kids, remember?"
At the comment I stopped arguing and began to watch, allowing him to clean the wound. This did feel familiar. In the past, however, it was usually someone else in charge of making the brew. But regardless of who was doing the final healing, whenever he was around, I always put him in charge of dressing the wound. Instead, I decided to let him help. From the table, I called out instructions to him. He usually did well enough following instructions during Potions, and the remedy I had chosen was quick and simple. Although I did try to get down and help a few times, he simply wouldn't let me.
Resigned to my spot on the desk, Draco brought his Hogsmeade bag to me before continuing the brew. I suspected that had more to do with wanting to keep me quiet than to be helpful, but I appreciated it regardless. Looking through it, I was happy to have noticed there were more things than I had expected there. With a smile, I pulled out a canister of enhanced arnica gel, not having expected he would actually find that during the trip. It was a convenient pain manager, one that would help particularly with the bumps and bruises I had earned.
I propped my leg up on my chair as I worked to lather the gel onto the sore. It wasn't an instantaneous fix, but I didn't have the time or patience to make a new brew with every little nic I earned. The bruises didn't disappear completely, but it did reduce the damage significantly. With that discomfort out of the way, I turned back having heard a question for further instructions. Draco was staring down at the cauldron, stirring in the last of the calendula extract. It took a minute but, eventually, the mixture was complete. Pouring it onto a more portable container, he brought it over with a grumble.
"When you said Mandrake, I thought I was going to have two screeching things in this room."
"I said Mandrake leaves, not whole—hey!" I exclaimed, having processed the latter part of his statement. Draco snickered at me, setting the mixture on the table. I moved the bag aside so he could get closer to the desk. Draco lifted my arm between us. Grabbing the soaked leaves swimming inside the brew, he slowly began to place them onto the wound.
"So how is slathering your arm in this going to help?" Draco asked absentmindedly, as he slowly pressed the leaves firmly against the damaged skin. It took a few but eventually, the area was covered completely.
"Mandrakes have a lot of uses, but their leaves specifically have been known for their extraordinary regenerative qualities, used not just whole but in a variety of remedies that…" I drifted off, watching as his eyes did. Draco gave me a monotone look. "New skin will grow and they'll help it close up faster."
"Why didn't you just say that?" he mumbled, as I rolled my eyes at Draco. Turning back down, I pushed the bag a little farther away.
"Because why else would I slather my arm in these? I thought you would want specifics. That aside, I should say thank you. You really did get everything that I asked for," I added, smiling in appreciation. He, however, did not take it that way.
"Of course," he mentioned, annoyed. Carefully, he turned my arm, making sure there were no barren spots. "I think I've been dragged around by you enough times to know where to get your trash."
"Don't look so offended, I was thanking you," I pouted.
"You always treat me like an idiot, y'know," Draco pouted back.
"I do not."
"Of course you do."
"I don't," I insisted, now the one feeling offended.
"You always edit my work," Draco grumbled, as if that was enough of a reason.
"It's to help. And you're the one who always begs for my help with homework because you went and fooled around in class," I began to cross my arms, but Draco took hold of my wrist before I could.
"Why pay attention when I could have you do the work for me?" his tone stayed light, but he watched my arm carefully as he pulled it back, worried about hurting myself more I'm sure.
"Why have me do the work, when you could save yourself the trouble by listening to the lesson the first time?" I frowned, having told him so before. "That's why you have to come begging me to help you in the end."
"I don't beg," Draco scoffed, but not denying it either.
"You wouldn't need to if you paid attention," I repeated the lecture. "All you manage to do is shift your free time from one point to another. You still have to do course work and study, you just do it in the afternoon instead of during lessons. Wouldn't simply paying attention make everything easier? Then you wouldn't be forced to listen to me repeat everything back to you."
"I happen to like studying with you," Draco said softly, placing my hand down on my lap.
For a moment I froze, and it was quiet between us. We remained waiting like that for a few minutes, but neither of us broke the silence. Still not saying a thing, Draco closed the last of the distance between us. Wrapping one of his arms around mine, Draco used his free hand to gingerly peel a corner loose from one of the leaves. As he checked the healing progress of the wound, I frowned at myself. It always ended up like this between us. We would start from a normal conversation, a casual meeting enjoying our time, then one of us would say something that ruined it.
Seeming content with what he saw, Draco began to gingerly remove the frond. I watched quietly, as one by one he picked the green from my arm and set them down on the table. He turned my arm slowly from side to side, wanting to inspect the area. Finally, I couldn't help but give him a smile.
"If you're such a genius, maybe next time you'll remember our Potions work enough to know how to properly store soaked Mandrake for future use."
"What—oh for—" Draco groaned, watching as the once drenched plant now shriveled up dry. I let out a giggle as he reached out to touch it, only filling it with cracks. Annoyed, he turned to give me a scowl. "I'm not going to waste my next Hogsmeade getting you another pile of leaves."
"It's the least you could do, seeing as you're the one who messed it up," I answered, looking down at my arm. With the leaves now removed, I ran a finger over the skin. It wasn't even, but it had certainly healed. The rest I could let heal itself naturally.
"The least I could do?" Draco leaned down to catch my eye from where I was looking. "I just spent all day running errands for you like some kind of house-elf! All while you're off getting yourself hurt, doing Merlin knows what! But hell if you'll ever tell me, since you certainly never—"
I took the opportunity to lean towards him, interrupting his rambling with a hug. Having reached farther than I thought he would be, I almost fell off my seat on the table. Pressing my hands against his shoulders I pushed out, holding my arms straight to steady myself. I let out a giggle to myself, but before I could pull myself up, Draco took a step forward, directly in front of me. A second passed before he wrapped his arms tightly around me. Draco pulled me closer to him. I couldn't see his face before he buried it in my shoulder.
"Why do you always have to be so fucking difficult," Draco's muffled voice called to me. I gave him a smile.
"I love you too," I spoke softly, running a hand through his hair. With that motion, I lifted his hair up and kissed the side of his head.
"You really make me feel like an idiot," he mumbled to the side, sounding a little clearer.
"Alright, I'll tone down the lectures."
"That's not what I meant," he sighed. I paused to look at him, but he pulled away from me before I could catch his expression. Only letting me see the back of his head, he turned down to look at my arm. "Well, looks like you're all better now, thanks to my mediocre work, so I'll head out."
"You don't have to—"
"Believe it or not, I have a life outside of you," Draco mumbled, "I had other things planned for today."
"What, with Pansy?" I frowned watching him stepping away.
Something in that comment made him pause. Draco stood watching me for a moment. His expression still looked some degree of annoyed, mixed with something I couldn't quite place. He walked the last few paces towards me before leaning down and kissing my forehead. With a small smirk, he stepped away without another word. Not saying goodbye either, he exited the room.
I crossed my arms with a huff. He could be so temperamental. One minute he's whining, the next he goes smirking out of the room. With a sigh, I pushed myself off the desk. With that, I turned back down to look at what we had brought. Frowning, I stepped towards the brew. The proof of Draco's intelligence was in that mixture, he knew what to do he just never bothered. Less of an idiot, he was just a terrible student. I gave one last sigh and put my hair up. Everything would need to be stored properly or the Hogsmeade trip would be a waste. Stretching my newly healed arms, I went to work.