A/N: Revised - 13/04/2020.

AWF

"Malfoy's been sending us an increased amount of smug looks, lately, hasn't he? I've noticed because his face has been offending me more than usual and that's quite the feat."

Hem lifts her gaze from her sketchbook to find Sally-Anne ̶ (who? Her friend?) ̶ sitting to her left and apparently having a staring competition with the ghost ̶ (Bloody Baron? What's his actual name? Does anyone know?) ̶ sitting to her right. The alcove seems to have become a regular spot of Hem's that often has the House ghost coming to sit with her in complete silence. Although, sometimes, he does talk ̶ (does he?) ̶ when it suits him. Usually a single line or so, which is something that she does, too.

"We'll consider it progress if you manage to speak two times with short intervals in between. For example, if you say hello to me and then tell me where you go during mealtimes within the next ten to twenty minutes. I will expect you to answer me but I won't disparage you if you're unable to do so. It will take time and effort before you'll be able to respond to verbal cues with more success than not."

"He knows something," Sally-Anne continues, her eyes beginning to water the longer she challenges the Bloody Baron, whose black gaze is unwavering. Being dead probably gives him an advantage since there isn't much of a need to blink. "Probably something to do with the Gryffindor trio, I'd sa ̶ All right, fine!" Tearing her reddened eyes away, Sally-Anne admits defeat and rapidly blink to return some moisture to her eyeballs. "You win, BB. Well done; I'm proud to call you a worthy opponent." 'BB' looks marginally amused by her declaration. Unless that minute twitch of his mouth is just an involuntary one.

Wiping her face, the defeated challenger proceeds to ask, "Do you think he knows about the dragon egg? It should've hatched by now, right? Maybe I should've asked what the egg looked like before I started giving them the cold shoulder."

"It's hatched," Hermione told her during breakfast ̶ (or was it lunch?) ̶ in the kitchens. (What day was it? What day is it?) "Oh, Hem, Malfoy saw it all. We're all so worried that he's going to go straight to Dumbledore, but he hasn't done anything yet." Her sister soon lowered her gaze, cheeks darkening as she hesitantly asked, "Do… Do you think Sally-Anne could…?"

The word slipped out before it even fully formed in her head. "No."

Hem can't find it in herself to care all that much, but her dorm mate ̶ (friend, she's a friend) ̶ has made it clear where they all currently stand. (Hem is in the middle, on neither side.) She wonders if it's silly to be so riled up because one side thinks it's one person and the other side thinks it's another. It probably is. (Or is she the silly one for not caring?)

Hem listens as a voice whispers, "Yes."

Sally-Anne whips her head towards her, eyes wide with surprise and delight. "Yes? He knows about the dragon egg that's become a dragon baby?" Hem must've nodded, for her friend's expression lights up with manic mirth. "Oh, brilliant! They must've been so cautious if Malfoy managed to catch wind of it, I'm sure. He's about as subtle as my aunt's gaudy Christmas stockings." The spirit present raises a thin brow at them, possibly questioning the stockings or the idea of subtlety when he's right here. Sally-Anne smiles at him. "You wouldn't share our secrets, would you, BB?"

The Bloody Baron doesn't answer immediately, opting to slowly shift his gaze to Hem. She blinks as their eyes meet, the sheer lack of colour in his depths almost acting like some sort of black hole. But he doesn't stare into her soul ̶ (she has one, doesn't she?) ̶ for too long, soon dipping his head in a regal but rather subdued nod of confirmation.

"Your secrets are safe with my indifference," he rasps, still turned towards Hem rather than the one who asked the mostly rhetorical question. She can only wonder what's caused him to gravitate towards her. Maybe he's just never found another person who's as quiet as he is and doesn't really mind his ghostly, bloody status.

Sally-Anne flips her plaits over her shoulders. "All right, cool. Now I just have to decide if I'm gracious enough to save them from their foolishness." She pretends to think for about a second before, "Oh, look. I've decided that I'm not. Let's go get lunch, shall we?"

. . .

. . .

Ron is bitten by the dragon baby at some point ̶ ("I would suggest that you get a calendar to cross the days off just before you go to bed," Kenelm advises) ̶ and Sally-Anne looks as though she's struggling between spiteful cackling and genuine concern.

She goes for something that's possibly a mix. "You look like shite, fellow blood traitor," she says by way of greeting as they come to stand by his bed. "Well, more than usual, anyway."

The sickly boy glares at his fellow blood traitor, but its effects are much less severe. Not that it's normally very effective. "Oh, shut up, Sally-Anne," he snaps in a hoarse whisper. "If you've come here to mock me, Malfoy's already done that. Threatened to tell Madam Pomfrey what really bit me and everything."

They passed him on the way, actually. (They did, right? But who's Draco?) He was holding a book as he sneered at them and mocked, "Off to visit your blood traitor in arms, Perks? I do wonder how he got that nasty bite of his. I've never heard of a venomous dog. Have you?"

"What's this strange buzzing noise in my ears, Hemera? Oh, Merlin, is it a fly? I do so hate flies. Shoo, you inferior nuisance. Shoo! Off you go, now!" Draco seemed like he was about to retort but they passed by him too quickly and it probably would've been awkward if he said it when they were a good ten metres away from him.

Though, Hem did hear him hiss in vexation and mutter, "Stupid blood traitors and their mudbloods," before his footfalls became softer with distance.

Sally-Anne raises a single brow and replies, "And what really bit you, Ron?"

"You bloody well know what ̶ "

With a roll of her eyes, she interrupts him with, "What kind of dragon is it, you idiot? None of you ever did tell me."

Confused, Ron answers, "Norwegian Ridgeback. Why?" Then he registers the next part of her sentence and frowns. "And you'd have known if you didn't start snubbing us for no reason."

Blinking as she processes his response, Sally-Anne then directs a completely unimpressed expression at Hem as if to say, 'Can you believe the idiocy of these people?' When she turns back to Ron, a dramatic sigh escapes her. "Really? Did Hagrid just let it slip his mind that the fangs of Norwegian Ridgebacks are venomous? And I'm going to ignore the fact that you think my actions are irrational."

A bitter scowl contorts Ron's face as he lowers his head to look at his bandaged hand. "Seems so. He said I frightened it and that's why it bit me! The way he treats it, you'd think it's a puffskein or something. And your actions are irrational! Obnoxious, even."

"Unfortunate," comments Sally-Anne, who merely tilts her head to the side and looks rather unconcerned. "I suppose I could've told you if I knew what kind of dragon it was, but I doubt you'd have listened to me, anyway, since I'm so obnoxious and all. As it is, I'm thinking that Hagrid's a bit of a hazard."

"Hey!" Ron snaps, automatically defensive of his, Harry and Hermione's friend. (Is that true? Or is it more of a friend of a friend situation?) "He's not that bad! Just…" He trails off, shifting his gaze to the side once he realises that there's some merit to her words. Seeing as he's currently in the Hospital Wing from a dragon bite that Hagrid seems to have disregarded.

Hem doesn't have much of an opinion on Hagrid other than he's not very comfortable around students in green. Although, it does seem like the man is a little reckless.

"A bit of a well-meaning idiot that loves dangerous creatures a little too much? I'm all for a bit of rebellious adventure, but forgive me if I'm not personally all that fond of him. You could have literally died within the next day if you hadn't gotten it treated." Ron pales until he's looking even more green. Sally-Anne either doesn't notice or doesn't care. It's more likely to be the latter. "Well, whatever. Now that we've confirmed you're alive and unlikely to drop dead in the near future, Hemera and I are going to go back to bothering Weston and his friends so we can learn more about hex-deflection. Bye!"

Then, with dramatic flair, Sally-Anne grabs Hem's hand and ensures that both their robes billow behind them as they go. Ron watches them go with a helpless expression, but he does wave and smile a little when Hem wiggles her fingers at him in farewell.

. . .

. . .

"Seems like Harry Potter's taken a dive in the popularity scale," Weston remarks, sounding amused as he helps his sister redecorate an abandoned classroom. (Is it a particular one?) His two friends ̶ (Miles and Dyson Bletchley, she thinks; cousins) ̶ snort, evidently considering said remark an understatement. "I do so wonder what it is that got him, his friends and ickle Malfoy in trouble?"

Deftly tossing Hem ̶ (who's curled up in a corner to stay out of the way) ̶ a box of something, Weston then waves his wand to levitate some desks. Hem blinks, wondering where the object's gone before she looks down to find it in her hands already. It's crystallised pineapples, she soon realises. How is it that they've always got sweets on them?

"They're just about all idiots, so I'd say stupidity is a large factor," Sally-Anne responds, pointing her wand at a loveseat they found in some other room and muttering an incantation. It was rather dirty before one of the boys ̶ (she can't remember which one is Miles and which one is Dyson) ̶ cleaned it with a Scouring Charm. "But I suppose it's a shame that he's being so harshly treated because he's Boy Wonder and all." The loveseat changes from a dull grey to a sleek black and she looks quite satisfied with the shade. "Hermione and whoever that other boy is are just being ignored, really. Longbottom? Was that his name?"

"Neville Longbottom," confirms one of the Bletchley cousins. "His grandmother's terrifying according to my father."

Hem opens the box and pops a few pieces of the pineapple sweet in her mouth. In all honesty, she doesn't really understand why House points and the House Cup are such big deals. Perhaps it's because it's a good motivator for encouraging good behaviour and discouraging bad behaviour, but Hem thinks it'd be more effective if there was more to winning than just House pride and a cup.

But then again, there might just be an emotional factor that her brain is incapable of comprehending.

. . .

. . .

The Gryffindor trio is present during dinner in the kitchens. Harry and Hermione look fairly weary while Ron is looking better than he was before. Still sickly, but better. Sally-Anne greets them with her usual snarkiness as she sits across from them and beside Hem.

Harry frowns, clearly not in the mood for any cheek. "Can you not, Sally-Anne? Please?" His expression softens a little when he turns to address Hem, however, even giving her a slight smile. "Hi, Hem."

"Bonsoir," she murmurs, which appears to brighten his mood further seeing as he sits a little straighter and his smile broadens. (His eyes are too illuminated.) His mood falls again when Sally-Anne hums and reminds him that she's there.

Hermione and Ron's expressions shift into discomforted concern as they look between the two. Sally-Anne simply raises a single brow at him when their eyes meet, and she makes a point of maintaining eye contact as she abruptly stabs into her steak with her fork. It's a few seconds of awkward silence ̶ (ignoring the background chatter of the house-elves as they go about their tasks) ̶ before she lowers her gaze to focus on cutting the piece of meat with her knife.

"My apologies, Boy Who Lived, I'm always scathing and it requires more effort than I'm typically willing to use to be less so," she answers with a resentful smile. "But I'll try. Here, let me ask you something. Don't you have an Invisibility Cloak that's supposed to hide you during stealth operations?"

Hem's sister groans loudly at the reminder, quite obviously annoyed with herself. "Oh, it was so stupid of us! How could we have forgotten it at the top of the tower? We wouldn't have been found out if I'd have just remembered!" Hermione's wild hair frizzes up with her emotional outburst. "And poor Neville got involved just because he was trying to help."

"Well," Ron tries, looking between his two friends' sullen expressions. "At least you got to see Malfoy getting dragged by the ear by McGonagall. He has detention, too, so it's not all bad. The best part is that we don't have to worry about Norbert anymore, thank Merlin." The three nod in agreement at that.

"That's right," Sally-Anne cheerily agrees. "You're just being ignored by the entirety of the school save for Slytherins because they're all mad that we'll likely win the House Cup again. But don't worry," she continues when the three of them visibly wilt. "I've made it my hobby to torment the little arsehole, so you can be sure that he's also not having a fun time. And even if it wasn't a very respectable hobby of mine, most snakes disapprove when another snake is caught doing something they shouldn't. Shows that they're not resourceful enough to remain unnoticed, you see. So, even if Professor Snape favours him; the rest of the House don't."

Hem cuts into her gravy-lathered steak after piling some broccoli and mashed potatoes onto her plate.

"Honestly, I don't know what he's doing. He's already powerful, yes, but one needs charisma and a personality that isn't synonymous with 'spoiled brat,' if they want actual followers. A few students were mocking him today because he was bragging about learning the Disillusionment Charm recently, but he didn't think to use it the night he was sneaking about after curfew."

"The Disillusionment Charm wouldn't be difficult for you to learn," Tom murmured in contemplation, head tilted up towards the sky. "I could likely also teach you the modified Silencing Charm that works on objects rather than people. If you were to put them on your shoes, no one would be able to hear your footsteps. Being in such a large castle unfortunately ̶ or perhaps fortunately, depending on the circumstances ̶ means that sound tends to echo."

"Do you think I sneak around after curfew all the time, Tom?" someone queried.

He waved her off, which told her that the question was hers. "If not now, then soon. You can't expect to be a snake without breaking a few rules, after all. And I do recall you saying that the other Houses as a collective are rather wary of yours; which is odd, as that doesn't seem to be the case in my reality. We're all rather amiable with one another."

AWF

A/N: Reviews are love. Reviews are life. It's never ogre. Thank you for reading.