CARPE NOCTEM / YOU DO FANCY ME / CH. 16

It had been hours since she and the Malfoy family returned from the ball thanks to Draco's endless grumbling about how unbelievably bored he felt. Hermione had to hide her amusement behind a cup of punch anytime he whinged 'motheeeer', which was driving Narcissa absolutely nuts. She'd turn to him with a nasty look, most probably meaning something close to 'I cannot believe you sprang from my loins', hissing at him to quit. He, however, had ignored all of the remarks and proceeded to irk the woman until she finally capitulated.

"You owe me a big time, Granger, a big time!" He leaned in as they both settled on the backseat of a highly avantgarde-looking sedan driving them back home. "I had to promise to keep in touch with Astoria. They actually think she could be suitable—" He shivered, making a gagging sound.

"I think she's lovely," Hermione whispered back, "but don't you worry, I'll never forget this great gesture of yours. In fact," she shifted, slightly turning to him, "I'll make sure to disrupt the wedding and kidnap you if it really comes to the point," she promised, lightly tugging at his sleeve. She imagined being dressed as a healer, wearing a droopy moustache, running into some fancy parlour, shouting 'Stop the wedding, the groom has a spattergroit!'

As if hearing her thoughts, Draco gave her a long, searing look. "That calls for an Unbreakable Vow."

"Sure! Well, I've got a minute right now, just take out your wand."

Snorting, he only shook his head. It was their modus operandi offering to bail each other out of the silliest little situations—even as a joke. She would help him, then he'd do the same for her. It could be actually a pretty fair trade, hadn't it been for the fact that most of these ordeals were the results of Draco's doing—if not all of them.

Hermione chuckled under her breath: Draco really was a master troublemaker. Her eyes fleetingly slid down towards her hands and the smile on her lips froze.

A wave of cold sweat washed over her as she spotted a faint lavender colour blooming across the skin of her wrists. She gulped, shifting slightly to expose her hands to the lamp above her head, hoping to see that it was all just the play of light, but unfortunately, her sight wasn't mistaken.

"Do you really want to leave tonight?" Draco asked, making her eyes snap towards him. Her arms automatically folded across her chest, hiding the discolouration under the fleeting sleeves of her dress. "I don't want to dictate you what you should or shouldn't do," he went on, failing to notice her sudden tension, "but wouldn't it look a little too suspicious if—?" he paused, gazing to his left to see his mother leave her seat and sit down right next to him.

"Since we're in a chatty mood, I'd like to have a conversation with your friend, too. Could you give us a moment?"

Hermione's heart skipped a beat. Scenarios, each worse than the previous one, started springing inside her brain like a fountain. There could've been a million reasons why the woman wanted to talk to her and she did not like the concept of any of them. No matter the course, she was positive every single one would mean she had to lie.

"What for?" Draco stepped in suspiciously, acting like a lawyer who had to have every little thing run by him first in order to protect his client from saying the wrong thing. Hermione couldn't help herself from nudging his arm. It must have been his curse to always pick the wrong person to be rude to.

"I'm sorry?! I believe it is a business between me and Miss Granger only," Narcissa raised her eyebrow in disbelief. "And mind your tone, young man, it is not appropriate to—"

"Hey! I didn't—"

"Draco!" Lucius cut in, his voice as cold as ice. "I think you're forgetting who you are talking to!"

Hermione glanced at the boy sinking in his seat.

"I won't tolerate rudeness, you should be already aware of that," the older wizard let out, making even Hermione feel ashamed, "now do as you were told!"

Sighing, Draco stood up, moving without any more objections to sit next to his father on the other side of the car, looking like he'd just swallowed something particularly sour. "We will have a proper conversation tomorrow. I'm not putting up with..."

Hermione felt a movement beside her, making her avert her attention from Lucius giving Draco a piece of his mind to the blonde woman gazing directly at her. "Is there any reason for such a rush?"

"Excuse me?"

"Oh please! I'm not a fool. I know it was your idea to leave the ball— No, I don't blame you," Narcissa clarified, noticing the girl was about to open her mouth to argue, "it was actually very convenient. I am simply asking why?"

The young witch adjusted in her seat.

"You were gone for quite a long time and so was my sister," the woman went on brusquely, "is she the reason? If anything happened there, I better know."

Clenching her teeth, Hermione turned to the window. What was she supposed to tell?

'Yes, it was your sister, attacking me multiple times in the span of one hour and making me think she was trying to kill me'?

"Nothing happened. I was in the bathroom, fixing my hair," Hermione said after a while, looking at her hands, hiding the lilac universe etched on her skin in the white fabric.

"If I remember correctly, this excuse was meant for Barty Crouch junior—you have to do better than that."

Hermione shot her a quick look before her eyes returned back to her lap.

"You know, I had to do a lot to keep this family together over the course of the past few weeks," Narcissa changed the strategy, considering every word, "don't you think I deserve the truth?" She paused before adding, "Tell me, Granger, what did she tell you?"

"Nothing you yourself wouldn't think of me," Hermione blurted suddenly. "Sorry," she added, realising her voice, though quiet, was far from polite. The curse of Draco was clearly infectious.

"That's it?"

Ouch.

The young witch resisted the urge to give a bitter snort. She knew the woman didn't like her very much but hoped for at least a little bit of compassion or maybe a kind gesture of pretence. Well, wrong again.

"Yes, that's it," she whispered, glancing at her, "and I think it's a good enough reason. I'm fed up with having to stand up for myself every single second I—" she paused, shaking her head. "I just want to go home."

Narcissa inhaled, lifting her chin a little higher. "Do as you like, after all, that was the agreement as I heard it from Draco," she spoke, showing no emotion whatsoever, "but at least wait until the morning. It wouldn't do your parents any good seeing you appear in the middle of the night looking like this. Surely, you don't mean to upset them." She raised her eyebrow, hitting the right nerve.

It was crystal clear to Hermione the woman was not saying it because she felt sudden empathy toward her parents, but she still had a point. The girl knew her mom would freak out and feel no shame in paying Narcissa a visit and explain a thing or two regarding the treatment of her daughter, even though the whole thing had to do a lot more with Bellatrix than her, actually. No matter the circumstances, the argument wouldn't be pretty and Hermione wanted this whole experience to be damn over so much she didn't want any more drama.

She had to stay. It was only for a few more hours, after all. She'd get some time to gain a composure and figure out what exactly and how much to say. The relationship she had with her mother was tight, but there was no way she'd tell her about the hell she'd been through. Well, at least not on her own accord.

"All right," Hermione agreed finally, making Narcissa nod.

"Smart choice. You'll get some rest, sleep is the best medication."

The girl parted her lips, a sudden thought knocking on her brain.

Sleep.

What if...?

If Bellatrix knew about her dreams, there was a small possibility, that maybe—maybe—her sister knew something as well. They seemed incredibly close after all and if they were anything like best friends, they surely must have shared information with one another.

It was worth a try. However, there was this difficult part about figuring out how to phrase the question. She didn't want to sound like a complete lunatic but couldn't think of a way of asking without impersonating one.

Think, Hermione, think!

"May I ask you something?" she started carefully, startling the woman.

"What is it?"

Licking her lips, the young witch shifted slightly towards her. "Your sister— she's— she has mentioned something peculiar."

"Yes?"

"It was a riddle regarding— astral projection," Hermione got out of her, seeing the woman raise her eyebrow and suddenly, she felt so incredibly stupid. If Narcissa had no clue and she would go on rumbling about time-travelling and similar kind of stuff, she was sure a healer from St Mungo's would be summoned immediately to take care of her.

"Astral projection," the blonde witch repeated, a small smirk forming on her lips.

"I— never mind. It's probably stupid."

"Probably." Narcissa shrugged her shoulder, her gaze intensifying. "But if, in any case, it wasn't, L-47 could get you some decent answers."

Hermione's eyes snapped toward her.

"Elefteriou, I believe," the witch added, standing up. On the opposite side of the car, Lucius pushed Draco out of his seat, making space for his wife.

Hermione's eyes unfocused.

Elefteriou, Elefteriou. Oh.

She did remember the name Magnus Elefteriou mentioned in the book of Astrology in her third year. He was attached to the research on abiogenesis through meditations but had dropped out and left for Key Gompa, a monastery in India, where, it was believed, he stayed until his death.

Except for the so-called research, there was not a single piece of his work known to the public, hence Hermione was dead curious to see what exactly it was in the L-47 section of the Malfoys' library. She let out a deep breath, turning to Draco, who was taking a seat next to her, but the boy refused to make any eye contact and stayed silent for the rest of the journey.

When they arrived, Lucius wouldn't even give him a chance to say goodnight as he grabbed him by the back of his robe, pushing him upstairs in front of him. Narcissa too followed the two men, not saying a single word about the way her husband was handling their son. Her chin was high, trying to hide the humiliation behind the most arrogant expression she could manage. Long gone was the veil of a happy, well-composed family, and she was clearly aware of that.

A small wrinkle formed on Hermione's forehead as she stared after them. She couldn't help but felt genuinely sorry. Draco, for trying to do good but only causing harm, and Narcissa—she could hardly imagine the embarrassment the woman must have really felt inside.

It wasn't a big deal according to the young girl. She was never the one to point fingers, but she understood that the woman didn't know any better. It was her world, the surface glory and golden praises she probably spent her whole life maintaining—the image of a perfect family, the rich, powerful Malfoys. They were considered a royalty, far better than everyone else—and here they were, exposed to the likes of Granger, a person of a low status who might start looking down on them as if they were just like her, the dirt.

Hermione shook her head, realising her empathy went too far. Those thoughts resonating through her brain didn't even feel like her own, as if it was someone else talking and she was just listening...

What was going on with her?

She glanced at the library door. Maybe there was a way to find out.

Her feet moved on their own, leading her straight to the opulent room. She dashed through the door, passing the tall pillars and looking for that particular sector, unusually ignoring the shining books that were flying out of the shelves, offering themselves to her.

She braked upon seeing the letter L puff in the air in the corner of her eye. Her breath hitched and she turned to the left, stepping forward. Her hands reached out, tracing the spines of the books as she went on, reading every single label so she wouldn't miss anything.

"Eanor, Edias, Efarov, E... come on— Elias, Emeron. No—that cannot be right," Hermione murmured, frowning at the letters. There was no one with a name Magnus Elefteriou.

After minutes of unsuccessful searching, she gave up the slouching and grabbed as many books as she could carry, wobbling to the small circular space behind the shelf.

Hermione settled on the floor with the heavy items surrounding her like a tower. She reached out for the nearest book, written by Ivan Eapolous and entitled 'The Accretion Disk'. Briefly skimming the chapters and names imprinted on the last page, she realised this probably wasn't the right material.

She grabbed the next book, and then another and another one, until she lost track of time, focusing solely on her feverish reading. She was so wrapped up in texts regarding the positron, nuclear fusion, and other things which had no connection to her issue whatsoever that she didn't even notice the French clocks strike four in the morning.

There wasn't a word about the scientist in any literature she had picked. Hermione was chewing on her cuticle, flipping through the pages, drifting from one book to another and opening the third one, searching for further explanation in the fourth, getting back to the first one and repeating everything all over again.

Her eyes were swelling from the poor source of lighting she used. She blinked, stretching her back, trying to resist the urge to flake out when she wasn't even halfway through with the books.

Yawning, her hand touched another one, the title of which she didn't even bother to read. She lowered her back, resting her chin in her palms. She was exhausted.

... the particles have the possibility to blend in... creating heavier elements by magic ... lucid dreaming made him... Lucid dreaming!

Hermione's eyes focused again. She shifted, bringing the book closer to her eyes, hypnotising the sentence. "I believe Salomon lost his mind. He was no longer capable of living in realms..."

Knock, knock.

Hermione's head jerked up.

"Hello!"

Standing in the shadows of the slowly easing night was none other than Bellatrix Lestrange in that sheer dress of hers, smiling devilishly. The young girl's mouth opened agape, her stomach twisting.

"Madame Lestrange!"

"May I join in?" the woman asked but didn't wait for an answer as she stepped further into the space. "My, my, quite a research is going on here." She outstretched her hand, making the nearest book fly up straight into her open palm. Her slender fingers elegantly flipped it over, exposing the title.

She looked at the girl with a risen eyebrow and laughed. "Traveling through time?" She skimmed through the first few pages. "Deary, if only you weren't so stubborn, I could have spared you the trouble." She snapped the book close, throwing it back to the floor, making Hermione frown indignantly.

"I can manage perfectly well on my own, thank you," she retorted, crossing her arms over her chest, "is there anything you'd need, ma'am?"

Bellatrix smiled again. "Yes, actually, there is. I think I wasn't being very nice before," she started, having Hermione snorting in disbelief. The witch was doing her little theatrical act all over again, pretending to be sorry only to stab her in the back at the first opportunity.

"No, you were not and I hardly think you'll ever be," the girl blurted hotly, not even caring she was probably way out of line.

Pouting, the witch gave her the most innocent look. "Quite the opposite! I came to apologise, to tell you about those dreams, and here you are, treating me like damn garbage."

Hermione's breath hitched halfway through her lungs because she surely must have misheard. "Are you really trying to distort this situation and make yourself a victim?"

"Darling, there are no victims in this world. Everybody gets what they deserve."

Hermione clenched her teeth. "Then you probably shouldn't be surprised yourself."

Bellatrix let out a rich laugh. "You've got a sharp tongue for such a sugar face," she paused, blooming with another charming smile, "but I'll give you a piece of advice. You really shouldn't aspire to wind up the only person who knows all about your secret world of fluffy dreams," she added, rewarding Hermione's remark with an intense look. "Tell me, don't you wanna know?"

Hermione frowned, torn between her own diverse feelings. Yes! She would so like to know, but she wasn't that stupid to admit it and anticipate any help. She had stepped into the same river far too many times to do the same mistake again. "No, I do not." She stood up. "I've got nothing to trade, remember?"

"Oh please," Bellatrix waved her hand dismissively. "I'll tell you everything," she whispered, "I am your auntie Bella, after all."

Hermione's breath hitched. She didn't like that tone. The woman was so sly, so manipulative, knowing exactly how to deceive her with a pretty choice of words and that angelic smile.

"I won't stop being Draco's friend," Hermione informed her before the witch had a chance to bring it on.

"I didn't—"

"Just stop!" She shook her head, raising her voice. "I've already said I—'

"If your sassy mouth would let me finish, you'd know I wasn't going there," Bellatrix spoke over her dangerously, prowling closer.

Hermione took a step back, the familiar fear running through her veins. "If not Draco," she started softly but coughed, trying to eliminate the fragility out of her voice. "If it's not about Draco, what then?"

"Let's say I am feeling generous and I will do it for free."

It was Hermione's turn to laugh, although it lacked the effect and the charm of the dark witch. "Yeah, right! And I am supposed to believe that?"

"Well, if you want to give me something so badly," Bellatrix tilted her head, "let's settle on a little kiss, right here." She tapped her left cheek. "You barely did say goodbye, it would be only fair since your dear auntie has to leave in the morning," she said in a fake, gloomy voice.

"What?" Hermione blurted, her cheeks immediately burning. "I—what?"

"Is it that hard for you? I thought it might come easier than letting go of a friend." The witch inched closer, pausing just three feet away from the young girl.

Hermione's heart started racing painfully. "You are joking."

"I would never." Bellatrix stepped even closer, making Hermione's brain freeze her perception of all her bodily functions. "You seem nervous," the dark witch pointed, "are you afraid of me?" she whispered as she swept past her, pausing behind her back, "Or are you afraid of yourself?"

At this point, Hermione thought this must have been exactly what sleep paralysis felt like. The inability to move but the insanely dreadful sense of panic travelling through every vessel in the poor one's body.

"You know." She felt hot breath against her neck, which made her lungs shrink. "I had this funny feeling while being inside your head," Bellatrix said silkily and Hermione didn't even know which was worse: the dangerous words or the shivers running down her spine as the woman reached out to her hair, running her fingers through them in a languid, unbearably slow manner.

"I wasn't entirely sure what it was, but I think I've come to realise—" Her hand became even gentler, pulling at her hair with such faint pressure Hermione had to do a lot not to let her knees buckle.

"I don't know what you mean," she denied, finally finding her, although shaky, voice. This was the most sensual feeling she'd ever experienced, and although it felt so damn good, she knew she needed to get away from the woman. If not careful, she could spill the beans about her preposterous feelings and that would mean the end of her. She tried to force herself to move but it was the same kind of impossible as trying to detach her head from her body.

"Don't you really?" Bellatrix's hands were still running through her hair, twisting it, pushing it aside to rest on the girl's right shoulder.

"No."

There was no more touching—the only thing that existed was Hermione's spinning head and the feeling of anticipation beating in her lower belly.

A second. Two—

Her skin erupted in goosebumps travelling all the way from her nape down to her sacral area.

Nails. She could feel them tracing the skin of her exposed neck down towards her collarbone with such tenderness she couldn't help herself any longer. She leaned back, pressing against Bellatrix's form, letting out a barely noticeable gasp, which however didn't miss the woman.

Bellatrix pulled away immediately, making Hermione stumble, and quickly stepped forward to face her.

"I knew it!" she let out a surprised laugh, her eyes widening in disbelief, "you do fancy me! Hell, I thought so from the beginning! Oh, how disgusting!"

Hermione was standing there with an opened mouth, panicking. "No! That—that's absurd! I would never...!"

"Don't try to deny it!" The dark witch was looking at her with her mouth slightly curled down in revulsion. "How jealous you were... Tell me," she winked, stepping closer again, "were you imagining it was you instead of him?" she asked, enjoying herself like the sadist she was. Her freezing hands reached to Hermione's warm ones, grasping them and pulling them toward her hips. "Touching me like this...?"

Hermione felt a wave of very unpleasant heat washing over her. She was struggling to free her hands from resting where they shouldn't, but Bellatrix's grip was too strong, bruising her skin even harder.

"...having me so close..." the witch purred, leaning forward a bit and even though Hermione was stubbornly looking aside, she couldn't miss her exhale, still sweet from that vanilla-spiced alcohol.

Bellatrix's hands moved higher, grasping her chin, forcing her to look at her.

"Were you imagining," she went on mercilessly, her head moving slightly forward and immediately drawing back, "it was you kissing me?"

Hermione's brain shut down. She wasn't able to focus on anything but those alluring lips, parting and saying things. The woman's knees were moving, pushing the young witch with her until her back pressed against the wall.

"I think you were, you little animal," Bellatrix breathed. "Who would have thought so—such a good girl..." Hermione's eyes were fluttering, her knees shaking. Her hands were curled in fists, still resting on Bellatrix's hips.

"...and such a pretty one. I guess it wouldn't hurt to—" The woman brought her lips impossibly close. Hermione's heart was physically hurting, threatening to tear her skin—

Her eyes snapped open upon hearing a strange moan coming out of her own mouth. It was a perfectly plain day and she was lying on the floor, her cheek stuck to the 'Astrology & Its Origins' and her stomach hurt like hell.

She tried to sit up but hissed, feeling a sharp pain in her neck. Rubbing the place, she swallowed harshly. Her chest was heaving and her heart still beating as if racing a marathon. She could feel a flutter of crazy butterflies flying through her ribs, lungs, and the lower belly, tickling everything their wings touched. She placed a palm over her opened mouth, breathing hard into it.

"No, no no no no!" She stood up, her feet tangling in the dress she was still wearing. Quickly, she peeked from behind the bookshelf, her eyes travelling all over the space of the library where they could reach.

The room seemed quiet so Hermione retreated to her small corner, scratching at her palms. A hot stream of tears began falling down her cheeks but she roughly wiped them off.

She let out a desperate sigh, feeling so indescribably disgusted. What in Merlin's name was wrong with her for dreaming about such things! For having such feelings! Bellatrix was a woman, Draco's aunt, damn it, and here she was fantasising about—oh, she was so sick, so sick! It was just wrong for so many reasons.

Oh how she hoped the witch was truly gone, because she was sure she wouldn't be able to face her. Not in such a state.

She wondered what time it was. Bellatrix was never the one for breakfast—maybe she could avoid her, manage to sneak up into her room and get a cold—not cold, freezing—shower to teach her crazy hormones a lesson, pack her stuff and get the hell out of here before she would go completely mental.

Yes, that sounded like a good plan.

She frowned at the books scattered all over the floor, taking a moment before kneeling down and trying to pick them up, but they magically hopped on each other, flying up and out of Hermione's sight.

She blinked, disposing of the last traces of tears. Taking a few deep breaths, she forced her thoughts to shift completely. Maybe it was just an absurd dream. She'd had tons of them already. Tons! It was probably nothing to worry about, just an odd thing which surely had an explanation! Just like Draco's mother giving her a piece of advice that was worth nothing and had made her bury herself in books, only to drift off and dream about—

Hermione's palms pressed against her crimson face.

'I need to get away.'

She was lucky she had dozed off only for a couple of minutes. The main hall she had to pass through seemed empty: Everybody was probably still asleep, enjoying much more ordinary fantasies than she did.

She rushed up the stairs, jogging as quietly as she could to her room, stopping only to lock the bathroom door behind her.

Whatever. It was just a dream. The first dream of such a kind— and it happened to be with a—

Hermione hissed as the first splash of icy shower hit her body. She could almost feel all the pores on her skin shrinking, trying to protect her organs from the crispy cold water.

She was shivering like an autumn leaf threatening to fall from the tree at any moment; it was a torture, but quite an effective one. Bellatrix's face was gone at least for a while. It was fascinating what self-preservation could do, but it was equally sad that the body adjusted so quickly, returning the brain the ability to think of whatever it wanted in mere seconds.

Sensing the effect wearing off, she stopped the water, enjoying the warmth spreading all over her skin. She reached for the towel, trying to ignore the new peony-shaped bruises on her thighs and arms.

Once fully dressed in her usual striped shirt and beige trousers, she began packing her things, starting of course with the books. She just couldn't forget any. While sorting them by title, she had some time to think about what to tell and not to tell.

Her parents. Until now, she had the privilege of talking about her experiences from Malfoy manor solely through letters, meaning she could keep to herself as much as she wished. It was always just 'we went for a walk, spent some time in the library' and the similar talk. She hated lying, but it wouldn't do any good crying to her mom over Bellatrix being awful to her.

Frowning, Hermione suddenly paused with the History of Magic halfway to her trunk.

Merlin, did everything have to be about that woman?! She'd had a great time too, it hadn't been all sour! She and Draco had shared quite a few laughs together. She could tell about how the blond boy had pranked Zabini by saying they had a magical room in the manor, which, if one stood naked in front of its door precisely at midnight, would turn into a portal to another dimension.

Being as mean as he was, Draco hadn't told him directly but talked loudly when he knew he was close enough to hear him. Hermione had only shaken her head, thinking Zabini wasn't an idiot to fall for such nonsense, and so she hadn't said a word. Well, wasn't she mistaken?

She hadn't seen it herself but heard about it from Draco the morning after, in between his laughs, how Blaise went standing in front of the door, only to come face to face with Lucius Malfoy, and started pretending to be sleepwalking to get out of trouble.

Or she could tell how she and Draco had made a new friend and they all ended up drinking with muggles—well, maybe she should leave out that drinking part. The point was if she focused on the good things, her parents wouldn't notice how unhappy she really felt and how glad she was to be back home. It was a poor plan but she didn't come up with a better one that wouldn't require direct lying.

Hermione sighed, zipping up her trunk. She was done with packing and the only thing she had to do was to go downstairs and wait.

Narcissa was the first to show up. Her face didn't give away any surprise at the sight of the girl sitting on the sofa. "Draco's not up, yet," she informed her without any greeting or offering her to have some breakfast before leaving. She was probably done pretending to be polite once it was all over.

"It's okay, I'll wait for him," Hermione said, standing up. She wanted to say something, to ask whether the woman found it amusing giving away the false hope—she wanted to ask many many things, but frankly, it wasn't worth the drama anymore.

"I hope you enjoyed your stay, you know how to use the floo powder," Narcissa said mechanically before she disappeared, leaving Hermione all alone without saying anything else.

The girl wasn't surprised, nor disappointed at this point. What else was there to expect? She sat back down on the sofa, trying to ignore her unnerved stomach fearing Bellatrix would be the next to appear.

Fortunately, she wasn't. It was Draco.

"I must say, I did hope you would change your mind." He pursed his lips together, shrugging his shoulder.

Hermione let out a sad smile, shaking her head.

"Well then, the next year," the boy started but she stopped him immediately.

"Don't even think about it! The next summer it's your turn!"

Draco let out a surprised laugh. "What?"

"What do you mean by 'what'? I'm inviting you over—you and ... Astoria, your future wife."

"Keep going, I think I'm feeling better about your leaving."

"Jerk!" Hermione smirked, tugging his shirt so she could give him a hug. He wrapped his arms around her, staying like that for a moment.

"See you at Hogwarts. Try to stay out of trouble!"

"I think I'll manage just fine without you around," she retorted, smirking, earning a fake scowl from him.

"Go away, Granger."

"Bye, Draco." She waved as she took a handful of the floo powder.

"Bye, Brain," the boy smirked, watching her disappear in a smoke of a green colour.

Hermione's plans didn't work out. It took Jean Granger one single look to realise her daughter wasn't at all fine. It didn't matter what she said, the mother always knew.

"Here." She came to sit by her in the living room, handing her a cup of chamomile tea. It was a rare rainy day of the summer, which depicted the girl's mood quite accurately.

"Whenever you're ready, I'm here for you, all right?" she started, stroking Hermione's arm. "I won't ask about anything, I just want you to know that.. that I'm after their arses!" Jean nodded seriously, making Hermione crack a smile.

"Probably it's just the lack of sleep. We went to the ball and returned pretty late."

Jean gave her a knowing look, not buying a single thing she was saying. "Come on, off to bed then!"

"But it's 10:30!"

"You're tired, end of story. When you wake up, I've got quite a surprise for you!"

"What is it?"

"Good things come to those who wait!"

A/N: Can I just take a moment and express how extremely grateful I am for your support? I remember the year 2007, reading stories, learning the English language thanks to this page, never even dreaming that one day I'd be putting out my own story, let alone getting such positive feedback on it! Every single follow, fave and review means so freaking much!

I was getting emotional while reading what you, guys, sent me after the previous chapter. I had this huge amount of love for you washing over me and I just, as pathetic as it may sound, simply had to tell you. Thank you from the bottom of my bellamionewretched heart.

Thank you all for your kind words, it's the best feeling to be getting such praises from you!

Aaanyway, hope you enjoyed the chapter!