CARPE NOCTEM / VENOR FLOCCUS / CH. 20
I.
Hermione knew better than anyone about the scope of the curiosity ascending from the human DNA, for she herself was a being of a wondering nature—the same breed as the dear Alice, slipping into the sly land of 'curiouser and curiouser' just to suit her tremendous desire for the unknown.
Oddly enough, Hermione's very own unknown seemed remarkably similar to that Wonderland—an insidious place of twisted truth, repleted with curiosity-starved beings, having no perception of boundaries whatsoever; specifically when her bond with Draco Malfoy was on the menu.
The suicidal escapade she and the boy had been involved in on the very first day of their arrival had swiftly become a number one topic among all the residents of the Hogwarts Castle.
Students, ghost, portraits, even some of the staff—Draco would swear on Irma Pince—had created their own extra-thrilling version of the actual story, spreading it faster than plague in the 17th century London—and all despite the fact that nobody had a clue what exactly happened that particular evening. It was actually pretty convenient because what better platform there was to start creating drama than knowing nothing at all; infinite possibilities just prompting the imagination to run wild.
Poor Hermione had to endure hours of interrogation initiated by Padma Patil, who seemed to have no sense of dignity or any kind of respect in general. No matter how many times the young witch emphasised she was in no relationship with Draco other than being friends and that it would be an obnoxious lie to assume they were trying to elope to Ireland, the snoopy girl was deaf to anything Hermione had to say, moonily proclaiming it was the most romantic thing to have happened in the history of Hogwarts.
It got to the point the young Ravenclaw had to excuse herself from the forced company of the Patil twins and their friend Lavender Brown, flat-out saying she was going to be sick due to their tireless praises about how brave Draco had been to face the entire world just to be with her—or worse, about his hair being just the perfect shade of platinum.
More and more often she found herself biting her tongue, resisting the urge to bark at them there was no way she would ever even consider dating Draco, for she felt more attracted to his mom than him alone, but the wayward thought brought so much heat into her cheeks that both girls took it as a silent confession for everything they so blindly believed.
To top this ridiculous misapprehension, Draco, who strangely seemed to enjoy being the centre of everyone's focus, had become responsible for an even greater fuss thanks to his stupid sense of humour and loose irony.
Hermione had caught him winking at the giggling girls numerous times just as he saw her walking by during breaks, saying he had to go 'cause his girlfriend might get jealous. The young witch had to literally pray to have enough restrictedness in her not to hex him in front of everyone as she dragged him by the elbow aside to ask him why he had to try her patience. He was already threading a very thin line as it was, because sadly, this wasn't the only thing he liked to make fun of those fine days.
It had been a solid week since their adventure, seven goddamn days since the atrocious mistake of telling him about the conversation she had had with Dumbledore, and she would swear the level of obnoxiousness his aura had flowered with had never been as vibrant as it was now.
It was the final day of their detention, which consisted of polishing squalid forks in the Hogwarts kitchen, and the boy had boldly brought and tied a coin skirt over his head and kept making mysterious expressions anytime Hermione glanced his way.
He had become such a nuisance she had silently charmed the skirt to stick to his hair for a couple of hours—and she'd have actually laughed at the sight of a cussing Draco jingling anytime he moved, had it not been for her determination to persuade the house elves to ask Dumbledore for at least a minimum wage. She was so persistent the little creatures had kindly asked them to leave earlier just to get rid of her and subsequently started banging their heads in sync against the counter to punish themselves for doing so.
Hermione had promptly tried to stop them, and even the chiming Draco had hesitantly approached one particularly old elf and after whole minutes of constant banging and screaming 'bad bad bad', they managed to halt the madness and leave.
Now, sitting in the library, they were trying to catch up on the essay for Professor McGonagall's class — leastwise, Hermione was, for the finally skirt-free Draco seemed much more interested in proceeding to irritate her than doing anything academic-related.
"I'd suggest going for a full look," he announced, placing his finger on the edge of Hermione's parchment, and slowly started dragging it away from her. "You'll need a lot of shawls and sweaters—glasses you can borrow from Potter, he can't see a foot in front of him even if he wears them, anyway." He smirked as the girl snatched her homework away from him.
"For the last time." She primmed her lips, frowning at the yellow parchment in her hand. "I'm not a seer! And neither is she, if you ask me, so please, give it a rest! Stop drawing pictures of me looking like her and, especially, quit shouting 'Trelawnger!' anytime you see me in the corridor!" Hermione dipped her quill into the ink bottle rather grimly. "It's not entertaining in any way!" She angled away from the boy and placed the parchment back onto the table.
"Don't be afraid of your calling," the boy proclaimed dramatically. "Just remember to be as negative as you possibly can. Watch and learn," he cleared his throat, attracting her reluctant gaze. "Thy future, my dear child, is as gloomy and sad as the mangrove swamps in South Africa," he whispered in some strange Romanian-like accent and Hermione decided not to right him that African swamps were anything but gloomy out of the fear she'd burst out.
"See," he went on, "it's that easy; and after you're done saying everything is hopeless and crappy, you'll—wait for it—you'll amaze them with this glorious—"
The girl watched him disappear under the table with a bad anticipation—and oh dear, quite rightfully so. Her eyes widened the moment he took out an enormous crystal ball out of his bag and dropped it onto their table with a loud thud.
'He did not!'
"Draco Lucius Malfoy," she raised her voice, catching the rolling item the last second. "Tell me you didn't steal that from the North Tower," she demanded, hoping he wouldn't be that stupid to nick things from classrooms right after being done with both of his detentions.
"I might have borrowed it."
Obviously, he would.
"What on Earth did you borrow Trelawney's crystal ball for, may I ask?"
"Just to wind you up." He gave her a mischievous look, trying to swing his legs up the table but Hermione smacked his boots and he ended up grasping the table, fighting for balance.
"You take that ball back right this instant," she seethed, her eyes narrowing. "What if she needs it?!"
"Well, look who's talking! You didn't think about that when you were thirteen and you yourself—!"
Hermione's cheeks went warm. "I am not discussing this any further," she snapped heatedly, forcing the heavy item back to Draco, who gave her a knowing smirk.
She'd hate to admit it, but he actually got a fair point. Back then she did knock the ball over but only because the woman had humiliated her in front of the entire class by prophesying that she couldn't see any man in her future. Thinking about it now, the girl must have confessed that, however talentless she considered Trelawney to be, there might have been something to her abilities after all.
"Stupid thing," the boy swore from beneath the table, apparently having quite a trouble fitting the ball back into his bag.
Hermione was on the brink of saying something acrid when a loud knocking sound from behind her startled her enough to make her jump.
"Ouch!" Draco had clearly hit his head, making the table bounce a bit. "What are you doing," he hissed reproachfully, rubbing his nape, but Hermione didn't listen. She was looking at the window behind her back, eyeing a huge grey owl impatiently pecking the glass.
Briskly, she stood up, letting in both the bird and the remarkably crispy cold wind.
"Bloody mail?!" She heard the boy come closer as she tried to untie the letter attached to the talon. "Who could that be from?"
Shaking her head, Hermione let out a clueless snort. Her mom had sent her an owl just that morning, writing everything was well, hence she doubted the letter could be from her. Maybe it was Victor—it had been quite a while since he had written anyway. She licked her lips, turning the letter to look at the handwriting, but surprise—strangely, it did not belong to her friend either.
"It's for you," Hermione said, frowning, offering the envelope to Draco after reading his name scribbled in large, rather slanted letters.
The boy gave her a perplexed look, taking the envelope into his hands. "For me? I haven't heard from my parents ever since they dropped me off like an orphan. Do you think they finally realised they cannot be mad any longer, or it's an official statement that I've been burnt off the family tree? Let's bet!"
"Maybe it's Astoria," Hermione suggested. "Though I'd anticipate her owl to be bright pink."
"Yeah, she would definitely use a nightingale and it would sing lullabies and burp glitters," Draco added, unimpressed, waving the owl off, but it did not move, only tried to peck his hand. "Berserk creature!"
"Shush, just open the letter," Hermione prompted, closing the window, for the temperature in the library was becoming fairly freezing.
"Okay, okay." Draco gave her a significant look, moving back to his chair. His bony hands unfolded the parchment and he dived into silent reading.
Holding her breath, Hermione was watching his every move, trying to detect any signs of emotions and had to frown upon seeing the boy tensing up. Could it be that bad? Had he truly got burnt off the family tree? No... if it had come down to such extremity, his family wouldn't have bothered informing him, Hermione was sure. They would simply settle with ignoring him for the rest of their lives, pretending they had never had a child in the first place.
Imagining such scenario, the girl immediately felt a lump growing inside her throat—the fault would be hers and hers only. She was the reason this whole fiasco was going on and if—
The boy let out a bated breath.
"What," she blurted impatiently. "What is happening? Who's it from?"
Draco gave her a quick startled look as if caught doing something improper. He was gripping the letter with both of his hands, pushing it towards his stomach, just as though he was afraid Hermione could read it from the distance.
"I... " he paused, giving another forlorn exhale. "It's from my aunt."
Hermione's stomach made an uncomfortable somersault and she had to take a moment to comprehend those two simple words. "Your Bell—I mean," she cleared her throat. "Her?"
His eyes strayed back to the letter. "I've got two aunts, Granger. I believe I've already told you about the black sheep of the family."
"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" She shortly covered her mouth with her hand. "Is—is it from your aunt Andromeda? What does she—?"
"I'll tell you later, I shall reply to this first." He stood up, waving with the letter. "I—hey!" He jerked his hand as the owl, casually resting on the edge of their table, tried again for his fingers. "If you excuse me, I'll be in the owlery because clearly," he shot the owl a nasty look, "the bird is nuts!"
"Wait, I'll go with you!" Hermione reached for her books, quickly trying to pack up.
"Erm, on a second thought," Draco stated evasively, picking up his on a verge of tearing apart bag, full with Trelawney's crystal ball. "It's not that urgent, I'll probably go return this." He motioned towards the bulk. "And then—"
"What do you think you're doing?!" The livid voice of Madame Pince interrupted the subterfuge. She'd appeared out of thin air, her flaring eyes darting from Draco to the owl and then to the startled Hermione. "Gather your things, I want you out of here! This is a library! Not some filthy dovecote," she yelled, slamming her hand against the table, which forced the owl to shoot up and zoom around their heads, hooting crazily. "Out! Out! OUT!" The woman shrieked.
Draco swiftly shoved the letter into his pocket and practically sprinted out of the library, chased by the alarmed owl, cowardly leaving his best friend all alone.
"And you?! What are you still doing here," she snapped at Hermione, who was doing her best to quickly pick up her stuff, which wasn't that easy since there were around fifteen books stacked on their table. "I don't want to see your faces until you learn to respect the rules!"
Oh well, there goes the theory about her saying they were a cute couple.
Under constant lashing, Hermione managed to jam everything into her bag, charmed by an enlargement spell, and swiftly leave the library, unbelievably upset she had barely finished the first detention and immediately got herself in dire straits for the second time in a row.
Damn it, if she had known that the friendship with the boy would bring her nothing but trouble, she'd have really reconsidered helping him out two years ago. She'd have been spared so much anxiety and—oh, who was she trying to fool, she wouldn't trade that prick for anything in the world, no matter how many times he screwed up.
She loved him too dearly; cared about him the same way she would about a brother, and seeing him so anxious had made her extremely worried.
What could this aunt of his possibly want from him?
The boy had once told her he would never even know his mom had another sister if it hadn't been for the conversation she and auntie Bella had had a long time ago. He could be around nine when he overheard them talking about 'traitorous scum' who didn't deserve to be born, let alone share their blood.
He, of course, had later tried to ask about it but didn't get a response he'd hope for—simply got sent to his room with a warning never to mention it again. Since his family had refused to tell him, he had stubbornly set his mind on finding out himself by inconspicuously asking professor Slughorn years later, and the man had told him such a story Padma Patil would die of excitement if she heard.
He had revealed Andromeda was the middle child, who, even though sorted into Slytherin, had never really seemed to share the common beliefs of her family. She had barely had any friends due to her lack of interest in bullying and swashing about supremacy Slytherins loved so much; that's why she had usually hung out with Sirius Black and his group of buddies.
The professor had admitted he was fond of all the Blacks, but found Andromeda the most delightful. He had even showed Draco a picture he had literally had on display in his office till his retirement, which was in their third year, but the boy had never really paid those photos any attention before so he'd never noticed the resemblance—the woman looked very much like her older sister, Bellatrix; however, Slughorn had said they could not be any more different when it came down to their personalities. While Bellatrix was a force to be reckoned with, Andromeda was this reserved, distant being, who showed her true charm only to those she found worth the trust.
It was in her sixth year when she secretly started dating a Muggle-born, Ted Tonks. They eloped right after their graduation, which was considered a huge betrayal of the entire Black family. She had ended up burnt off the family tree and both of her sisters were forbidden to mention her name ever again—needless to say, they had no objections.
Slughorn had admitted he'd once witnessed the meeting of Bellatrix and the little Tonks girl, Nympha-something was her name, and he described the situation as 'very sad and heartbreaking'.
Truly, the whole story seemed so very gloomy, yet it showed Andromeda wasn't made of such arrogance as both of her sisters, Hermione thought. Maybe she had heard about the gossips and was just trying to reach out to let her nephew know he wasn't all alone in this—though if it truly was the scenario, there was no reason for him to be so nervous; Hermione didn't need to be any fortune teller to see something worrying was going on. She just hoped Draco would tell her.
As she walked through the corridor, ignoring the occasional whispering of Gryffindor's girls, she caught a sight of Dumbledore's long beard. She had not really seen him since that day he found her and Draco in the Shrieking Shack and it still put heat into her cheeks—Merlin, she was a prefect! She was supposed to be an example, a good example, not some troublemaker of ill manners. Unfortunately, the harm was already done and there was no other way to fix it than trying twice as hard to gain the lost reputation.
No more adventures and no more dream analysing!
Her mind slipped back to Dumbledore's mysterious words. 'The password you're looking for, I believe, is venor floccus.'
Hermione was, even after a week, still at a loss for words. First of all, how come the man knew she was after some kind of an explanation, and second, how come he had one. Had he too read her mind just like Draco's aunt had? He must have. Hermione doubted there was another way he'd find out other than seeing her thoughts because, beside Draco, she hadn't told a soul. And even though she admired the old man greatly, she couldn't help feeling somewhat disappointed he would violate her privacy in such a manner; besides, he hadn't even told her anything she wouldn't know about. She was familiar with the term, of course, having stumbled upon it countless times but in her opinion, it was completely off point.
Every book offered the same definition:
VENOR FLOCCUS /weː.nor floc·cus/
noun, derived from Latin
Hunter of clouds; a trained person who gained the ability to access other realms and communicate with entities from outside this world.
Hermione had read these mysterious beings were of pureblood ancestry; all of them monks living in deep forests far from any civilisation.
It was said they were born on the same day of the year that a gate to another realm opened, splitting the soul in half, sending each part to a different world. Some theories claimed they were the stray souls of people who committed suicide in their previous life—and as a punishment were bound to search for the other half of their soul for eternity.
However eerie that might seem, Hermione did not believe such thesis, for it was shared mostly among villagers who made up stories anytime they couldn't explain something.
What she believed, though, were the facts with a proper foundation. She'd read that to become a venor floccus, one had to be trained; there was not a single person who'd be born with abilities such people manipulated with; they gained the skills throughout years and years of practice of meditation and fasting.
It was an extremely dangerous and hard thing to do, though. Only the oldest and the most persistent of them were able to truly project and experience other realities. The scientist Elefteriou Narcissa Malfoy had told her about was rumoured by some to have died, while the others argued he had accessed another realm and got stuck.
Honestly, Hermione had no idea what it had to do with her. The glimpses came to her naturally while sleeping, whereas they did it consciously. She'd never met an astral being, never been to any astral dimension where she could roam around freely—she just saw a different reality through the eyes of the other Hermione. She'd never trained and the books said it was impossible to achieve such an experience without a training... bust most of all, she was no pureblood and thank Merl—
"Watch out, Granger!"
Hermione bumped into someone, stumbling. Startled, she looked up—it was McLaggen.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I was just—"
"Deep in your thoughts. Nothing unusual, but you might consider looking next time, you wouldn't want to miss this." He pointed at his chest, making Hermione raise her eyebrow.
"You're the last thing I would want to miss." The girl gave him a forced smile and moved along. "When casting a Petrificus Totalus," she murmured to herself as she headed towards the Ravenclaw common room.
II.
Draco had received six more owls the following weeks—Hermione kept track—but he refused to tell her anything about it, always finding some excuse to change the subject. The girl had to often bite her tongue to stop herself from giving him a lecture on trust and friendship because she was well aware it would be nothing but plain hypocrisy to say so. She herself had a few secrets she was unwilling to give away, hence she had absolutely no right to be angry with him. Still, though, the urge to ask him anytime his eyes unfocused was nagging her like a particularly itchy scar.
"Trelawnger," Draco whispered one evening while researching the topic about the Potion of Living Death. They were finally allowed back to the library under the promise to behave the way sixteen-year-old people should and they were both determined to live up to their word.
"What?" The girl had just finished reading a paragraph, scribbling a note on her parchment.
"Yes or no?"
She looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Yes or no what?"
"The point is, you're not supposed to know."
"Then I'm sorry, I cannot answer," she replied, getting back to her article.
"Don't be childish!"
"Childish?! I'm not the one—"
"Okay, okay, wait! Let me ask you again, then." Draco rubbed his forehead, ignoring the whispering suite of girls watching them from afar. "What would you do if—if your friend wanted to see your other friend, but that friend didn't really want to see that friend very much, but let's say that the other friend—"
Hermione frowned. "I'm quite smart, I daresay, but I cannot tell for the world what you are rambling about."
"Forget about it," the boy dismissed, flicking a page of the book he had in front of him.
"No, what's on your mind?" Hermione frowned, putting her quill aside. "Who are you talking about? Am I the friend in this narrative?"
"No!" Draco forced out a very unpersuasive laugh. "No—well, maybe, I—" He gulped, his eyes desperately roaming around the library and eventually landing on someone.
Hermione cast a look behind her and to her surprise, she spotted a grinning McLaggen.
"No!"
"Sorry?"
"I am not going out with that friend! Fat chance," she whispered angrily. "He's so full of himself, honestly, I have no idea what you see in him but that's your choice of friends, I guess. Besides, I'm still—" Hermione went silent and her cheeks were hot again. What she wanted to say was 'I'm still not over Blair'.
"Besides you what?" Draco straightened his back, furrowing his brows. "You got a boyfriend? Did you meet someone in Greece and didn't tell me?"
"No, what I was trying to say was," Hermione went on, considerably, "I'm quite busy trying to figure out this whole Venor Floccus thing!"
Draco leaned back into his chair, obviously thinking. "What if I told you I could help," he suggested slowly. "Promise me—promise me you'll go out with my friend." He still refused to address him by name. "And I'll help you!"
Coughing out a laugh, Hermione folded her arms. "Help? Weren't you the one making fun of me, trying to read my coffee cup and leaving ouija boards, tarot cards, and crystals anywhere I moved?!" She splashed with a challenging look.
"I was just joking."
"The whole month?!"
"Yeah, you know me. Once I get a hobby, it's forever," he let out but immediately went on upon seeing that Hermione parted her lips in indignance. "Okay, I'm sorry, I'm an idiot! Should have believed you instead of joking around! I'm really really ashamed of myself." He looked up for a while. "I think I've mentioned everything, you can't touch me now, ha!"
"You're such an arse, Draco!"
"In what context? Like I have a good-looking—?"
"For Merlin's sake!"
"Okay, back to the topic! What do you say?" He looked at her innocently.
Hermione gave him one last sour look before giving a deep breath. Her eyes strayed to the girls, who immediately buried their noses in their books. "Thanks for the offer, but I doubt you could help me with that, no offence. Maybe I should see Dumbledore and ask him directly."
"Maybe I know a few things you don't." He shrugged, casting around for Madame Pince, but since he caught no sight of her, he pulled out an apple from his pocket.
"Don't even think about it! I'm not planning on getting thrown out again," Hermione hissed, forcing the frowning boy to put the apple back. "And honestly, how come you know more about it than I do? I have read every single book regarding the topic I could find," she proclaimed, unable to keep the bossy tone out of her voice.
"But you haven't read every book you could find in our library." Draco retorted with a bratty smirk.
"And you're trying to tell me you have!"
"As a matter of fact," he raised his eyebrows defiantly but then frowned, "I have not—but I still got the information you'd definitely use."
Hermione pursed her lips together, shaking her head. "How come?"
"I'll explain after you promise—"
"Why not just tell me," she fumed, trying to keep the volume of her voice as low as possible. "McLaggen is a self-contemptuous prat, why would you want me to go out with him?!"
The boy shrugged. "It would be just a minute at most at Three Broomsticks."
"Draco, I don't understand-" Hermione folded her arms, frowning.
"Please, do it for me! I'll be there the whole time!"
"I swear, if you're trying to pull off a double date, I'll—!"
"No, I'm not, I promise!" He reached for her forearm in an attempt to reassure her but the loud gasps from the girls made him quickly retrieve his hand and drop his gaze back to his book.
"God, why do I have to be so irresistible to look at?" he lamented, making the young witch smirk against her will.
III.
"I cannot believe I'm doing this," Hermione grunted, marching along the blond boy through the milky haze straight towards the Hogsmeade inn. She was stepping angrily on every dry twig that came her way, trying really hard not to see them as tiny little Dracos (simple karmic reasons) who once again had persuaded her to do the things his way.
"Don't worry, I'll stay with you!" His elbow gently bumped into hers.
"What a relief," Hermione noted with vitriol, tugging her hood further down to avoid the cold wind.
"Look, I—"
They heard a distant yelp that made their heads jerk. A notably frightened Zabini emerged from behind Zonko's Joke Shop, running across the large puddles, splashing the water all around him. Casting around, his feet slipped on a cluster of wet leaves and he fell flat on his nose into the mud, making Draco roar with pure malicious laughter.
"Stop it! He seems terrified," Hermione said nervously. "We should help him, I suppose."
"Let it be, Granger," he breathed in between his laughs, slapping his thighs, "probably had a fight with some seventh year— heard he was trying to pull a— I can't!" Hermione had to wait for him to ease his amusement. "He was trying to pull a prank on Flint. Guess it didn't work out," he finished but burst into the third wave of laughter as Blaise stood up, his face unbelievably filthy.
"Stop it!" Hermione tried to scold the boy but the corners of her mouth lifted as well.
"Even if I could, I wouldn't!"
"Come on, you wanted me to meet with McLaggen! Want to get it over with as soon as possible." She grabbed him by the elbow, pulling his giggling arse towards the Three Broomsticks.
Hermione loved the place, especially during the cold months: it was so warm and cosy, not to mention the air was always filled with the scent of hot butterscotch.
"So where's he," she asked, taking off her coat as they settled with a table nearest to the fireplace. She was aware everyone was watching them and while it wasn't the most comfortable feeling in the world, she tried to think positively: maybe if people saw her with Cormac, they'd stop spreading the false gossips and finally get on with their lives.
"We're not meeting with McLaggen," Draco told her, messing up his hair.
"Yeah right."
"Damn, right. Look, he's sitting right over there!" He pointed somewhere behind her and upon turning around, Hermione truly spotted the boy sitting just a few tables away from them, trying to talk to Alicia Spinnet. "Don't you think he'd be already on his way here? Mind you, he's not a shy type."
Hermione parted her lips. "But if not him—" The blood in her veins froze. "Draco—are you the friend?" As soon as she let out those words, her cheeks started burning.
Draco, on the other hand, went unbelievably pale instead. "You think—you think I asked you out on a date?!"
"I mean—I..." Hermione stammered.
"I did not," the boy let out after a while. "But If I—I'm not saying now—I just—If I did—"
"Something to drink?" Madame Rosmerta, the landlady, stopped by their table.
"Eh, just two butterbeers, thank you," Hermione ordered, quickly pressing a few sickles into the woman's palm and ignoring Draco's protests, which fell silent as soon as she left.
Hermione's gaze dropped to her lap, feeling a great deal of discomfort settling in her stomach. She was trying her hardest to push the possibility of him liking her out of her mind but clearly, she couldn't pretend any longer.
What was she to do now? Should she tell him the truth? Should she tell him she was into women—one woman in particular? How would he react to that? Would he be mad? Repulsed? Would he ask how she found out? If she were to tell the truth, she couldn't possibly cover it with another lie, yet telling him about that time she felt like cursing Crouch Jr. out of pure jealousy because he had tried to hit on his auntie didn't seem like a good plan.
"There you go, two butterbeers." Two full glasses of warm steaming liquid landed in front of them and Hermione quickly took a sip, getting the froth all over her upper lip as usual. Noticing a tall figure approaching out of the corner of her eye, she quickly turned away to wipe the foam off with the back of her left hand.
"Hello, you two." Hermione glanced back, spotting a woman of wavy brown hair and a hostile expression standing exactly where Madame Rosmerta had stood just mere seconds ago.
"Hello," Draco finally broke his silence. "Eh, Granger," he stood up, barely looking at her. "It wasn't McLaggen who asked me to see you, or—it wasn't—eh," he struggled. "It was my aunt."
Hermione parted her lips, hypnotising the woman with a shocked expression. This in front of her must have been Andromeda then—but why would she want to see her? Merlin, did she want to give them her blessing? Or—
A bored exhale caught her attention.
"Oh, I'm sorry! Hermione Granger." She quickly stood up, offering her hand, but the woman didn't take it.
"Charmed, I'm sure," Andromeda commented snidely and walked over to the other side of the table, making sure not even her coat touched the girl.
Hermione frowned, a little startled by such a cold reaction. She hadn't even had a chance to say anything offensive—she'd only told her her name! Had she irritated the woman by taking so long to introduce herself then? If so—that was a silly, silly reason to act so arrogantly!
She let her hand fall to her side. The apple obviously didn't fall far from the tree—despite Slughorn's descriptions, Andromeda obviously seemed to share the same weird customs as both of her sisters. Why, she didn't understand, for the woman herself had married a Muggle-born. One would assume she'd be past the stage of exalting.
Trying hard not to show her feelings, Hermione slipped back onto her chair, looking over at Draco, wordlessly asking what the hell was going on, but he wouldn't spare her a single look. Her gaze jumped back to Andromeda, who took off her wet coat before sitting down herself. There was something familiar about her but the girl couldn't figure out what exactly... Maybe it was just those little parts of her sisters she saw in her—yeah, that must have been it: she had the same mannerism as Bellatrix, the same posture, same way of flipping her hair over her shoulder—even seemed to possess the same aura of arrogance... It was as if—
"I'd prefer to speak alone." Andromeda gave the boy a fleeting look and shook her head at Madame Rosmerta, who'd just approached—frowning, the landlady turned on her heel, walking back to the bar, clearly pissed.
"And I'd prefer to stay,'' Draco retorted but his voice wasn't half as confident as the meaning of his words.
Andromeda let out a short contemptuous laugh. "You are in no position to make rules, deary!''
God, even her voice resembled her older sister! How peculiar!
Or maybe not so much...
Hermione's head spun and her stomach twisted into a painful knot. Suddenly all of it—the movements, the voice, the familiarity of it—clicked into place like a bloody puzzle. This—this woman in front of her was Draco's aunt but it was not Andromeda, it was Bellatrix!
How stupid she was for not getting it earlier! Draco had been getting all these letters and suddenly knew something about her dreams she didn't?! Who could have told him other than his dear auntie? Stupid, stupid Hermione!
After everything she'd been through, after everything the woman had done to her, she had the audacity to ask for a meeting and wouldn't even bother showing up as herself?!
All her insides burned as she leapt to her feet, trying to leave the table, but Draco jumped up in front of her. "Wait! I knew you wouldn't want to see her," he whispered desperately, finally having the nerve to look at her, "but she could help you! She knows everything about venor floccus! She will—"
"Get out of my way, Draco," she gritted, her eyes unblinking.
Bellatrix let out a soft laugh.
"Granger, be reasonable!" The boy tried to shake some sense into her. "Do it for me! I swear, you—"
"For you," she interrupted, piercing his eyes. "You don't deserve me doing anything for you," she paused, shaking her head in disbelief. "How could you do this to me?"
Draco gulped, looking visibly hopeless. His eyes were widened, a thousand feelings projecting behind them, but he had no answer to that.
"Don't make a scene out of it, people are looking," Bellatrix remarked in a false sugary voice. "I'm not—"
"You don't want to be seen with a mudblood, do you?" Hermione snorted, feeling the nerves jumping in her stomach as if it was the trampoline. "Well, if you're so embarrassed, I don't see a reason to talk. Once you're brave enough to meet me in a proper way—as yourself—maybe then I'll be willing to talk," she finished, pushing Draco out of her way, marching out into the cold weather.