September 18, 1992
SECOND YEAR
Hermione walked to class with Pansy, Tracey, Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle. They had two periods of Potions with Snape today, and the lunch hour was about to end. Coming from the Great Hall, Hermione decided to go to class extra early. Her friends didn't have anything better to do, so they came along as well. The six of them were the first people inside. Hermione, Pansy, and Tracey sat together somewhere in the middle, and the boys sat directly behind them.
"'Mione, isn't it your birthday tomorrow?" Tracey asked out of the blue.
Hermione blushed. She had hoped nobody would point it out. She didn't want any fuss to be made, and she wanted other people's attention even less.
"Yeah, September nineteenth!" Exclaimed Crabbe cheerily. "You'll be thirteen, won't you?" Students from Gryffindor and a couple from Slytherin started entering the classroom, and Hermione put a finger in front of her lips to shush her friends.
Hermione sighed. She half-whispered, "Yes, but please don't make a fuss. I really don't want other people to know. Let's keep it among us, yeah?"
They then started talking about the Quidditch trials on the day after Hermione's birthday. Draco, Pansy, and Theo were dead-set on entering. The three of them had trained all summer long in the Manor's expansive fields while Hermione was content to watch them from the ground, a book propped open on her lap. Draco's father had even bought them top-of-the-line broomsticks. He had bought ten extras, just in case. In case of what? Hermione didn't know.
Five minutes later, a cry of surprise was heard from somewhere towards the back of the room. They all turned their heads to see what was happening, and they were just in time to catch sight of Ron Weasley falling forward and scattering his parchment and ink on the floor. Theo and Blaise were behind them, sporting mischievous smirks.
Hermione's friends erupted in boisterous laughter, and she herself cracked a small smile. "Oops," said Theo, feigning shock.
The boys made their way towards the other Slytherins. Draco gave them each high fives. Blaise said, "D'ya see his face?"
"Priceless, mate!" Laughed Goyle, banging on the table.
"Why'd he trip, what happened?" Pansy asked eagerly.
"The twat was walking too slow, so I gave him a little nudge," Theo said.
Theo received several pats on the back and a muttered 'should've pushed him harder, mate', when someone from the Gryffindor side of the room demanded, "what's so funny?"
The whole room went quiet. It was Harry Potter. He was standing in front of the Slytherin's tables with his arms crossed and a glower on his face.
Nobody in the Slytherin tables was brave enough to answer, or so Hermione thought. After a while, Draco stood, looking Potter in the eye. He said, "wanna know what's funny, Potter?" He paused, pointing at the red-haired boy across the room. "That freckled ginger git of an oaf is funny."
The green-clad students sniggered. Draco continued louder, "Weasel-bee belongs on the ground, don't you think?"
"Or the streets, more like," muttered Pansy with a scoff.
"Filthy blood-traitors like him ought to know his place." Draco provoked.
"You take that back, Malfoy!" Potter's face was reddening exponentially as his anger rose. His balled fists, however, were bone-white.
Draco gave him a taunting, evil smile and slowly said, "No, I don't think I will."
Potter charged forward, knocking into Draco. Hermione gasped at the blatant display of brute force by the golden boy, Harry Potter himself. She wanted to pull them apart or stop them somehow, but she was unable to because of shock and worry for the blond boy. The two of them stumbled back into the table. Theo and Blaise—whose books and quills were on the same table—knocked their things out of the way. Draco's back collided with the wooden surface loudly. Hermione was grateful for Blaise and Theo's quick thinking on their part. Otherwise, Draco would have landed on spiky quills and metal book bindings.
Potter recoiled his arm to throw a punch when a voice interrupted them.
"What… is going on?" Professor Snape drawled from the entrance.
The two boys broke apart immediately. Draco straightened up and explained angrily, "Potter attacked me, Professor! You saw it!"
Snape took his time walking towards the boys. Finally, he said, "Yes. It appears so. Do you have anything to say for yourself, boy?"
Potter stuttered. "P-professor, I-I…"
"None, then. Thirty points will be taken from Gryffindor for Mister Potter's actions." Professor Snape turned his back on them, walking to the front. Draco smiled evilly at the Gryffindors.
"I was only defending Ron, Sir!"
Snape whipped his head back at him. "You dare raise your voice at me?"
The Gryffindors held their breath and anticipated another attack on their House points.
Potter looked at his feet, fidgeting with his hands behind his back. "I apologize, professor."
"Thirty more points from Gryffindor for your cheek." He paused. "And a week's worth of detention. See me after class."
The boy made his way back to his seat with his head down. Other Gryffindors couldn't help but glare at Draco and his friends as they shared victorious sneers.
Snape began his lessons, and Hermione took a roll of parchment with her ink to write notes. Professor talked a little about the previous brewing techniques and the reasoning behind them. Hermione diligently wrote down every single detail until her right wrist begged her to stop. She switched to her left hand.
Hermione had developed the ambidextrous skill over the summer. She realized that both her hands were equally as adept when playing the piano, and she wanted to try and channel it when writing. Now, she wrote almost as flawlessly with her left hand as she did with her right. She had also practiced casting spells with her non-dominant hand as well, and they did work, but with much difficulty, still. She needed to improve.
Pansy noticed this when their elbows bumped on the table as they both wrote notes. "Aren't you right-handed?"
Hermione nodded absently, half-listening to Snape.
"Unbelievable. Trace, come look at this." She paused. Hermione paid no attention to them as she scrawled rapidly. Pansy said to Tracey, "She can write with both hands now."
Tracey chuckled. "Classic Hermione."
Pansy replied with, "Truly a Psycho."
Hermione chuckled softly. The word no longer contained the acidity it had when they were children… at least not with her friends. She still completely and absolutely loathed being called a Psycho by the people she wasn't close to, but her friends sometimes referred to her like this, and she was never offended anymore. She knew they all meant it in good fun. Even Millie, now. As far as Hermione was concerned, she herself hadn't exhibited any form of psychotic behavior that Lestranges were infamously known for, and for that, she was thankful.
"Today, you will partner up to brew the Sleeping Draught," Snape said. At that, students looked around and made eye-contact with their closest friends. Pansy and Tracey were already giving each other knowing looks, so there was no hope for Hermione there. Daphne was absent, as she had been feeling under the weather lately, and decided to sleep in for the day. She checked behind her, at the table of boys, and found Draco already looking at her.
He smiled and raised his brows, asking permission. Hermione returned the smile and nodded. She saw that Crabbe and Goyle were paired up, and so were Blaise and Theo.
However, Snape said, "You will not be choosing your own partners. You will all be randomly selected with a member from a different House." Groans were heard across the room as Snape waved his wand. He added, "This assignment is due in two weeks. The pair that makes the best brew will be given five extra points in the quiz on this topic." Under his breath, he muttered, "Yes, blame Minerva for imposing her little House unity schemes upon us."
On the chalkboard, everybody's names appeared. There were two columns for the Gryffindors and the Slytherins. Each pair was connected by a dash. Hermione heard Draco groan behind her in complaint as he saw his name paired with a random Gryffindor.
Malfoy — Brown
Hermione grimaced. She had sincerely hoped to be paired up with Draco for this assignment. Not that she was incompetent; she was definitely brilliant and capable of finishing it with somebody else, but there was no denying that her shared assignment with Draco would have topped the ranks and gotten incomparable, outstanding results.
She turned to the board and searched for her name...
Lestrange — Potter
"Oh no," she whined, burying her face in her hands. After composing herself, she sneaked a glance towards the Gryffindors. Potter was still red in the face, glaring at his table. His quill was tightly gripped in his right hand, where it was bound to snap into two if he didn't release his hold on it soon.
"Crap, Lestrange's got Potter!" Tracey said from beside Pansy.
"Hex him for me, will you?" Draco asked.
"Good luck," said Blaise. "You'll need it, doll."
Snape instructed the class to sit next to their partners and use the remaining hour and a half to discuss how to brew the Sleeping Draught and to delegate tasks.
Students reluctantly started standing and moving to sit next to their partners. She saw that Blaise was with Seamus Finnigan, Tracey was with Neville Longbottom, and Crabbe was with Fay Dunbar. Hermione didn't look around much when she saw that Potter hadn't moved an inch from his position when she last saw him.
If he expected her to be the one to adjust, he was sorely mistaken.
Five minutes later: "Psst, Hermione! Where's your partner?"
Hermione sighed irritatedly and answered Draco, "Can't tell. Do you reckon he's in the loo?" From the corner of her eye, she spotted Potter darkly glaring at her. She paid him no mind.
She started to list down all the necessary ingredients and how to procure them in four days at the latest. She did all this without a glance at her supposed partner across the room.
After half an hour, Hermione ran out of things to occupy herself with. She had written detailed instructions for the Sleeping Draught, a list of the ingredients and their functions in the potion, a timetable for when they were to collect said ingredients and brew them, and four contingency plans in case something went wrong. She had written two copies of everything. Her desk was overflowing with parchment, and her inkwell was nearly dried up… still, Potter did not approach her. Neither did she.
Hermione accepted that her partner was a hard-headed Gryffindor. She thought of dropping the extra copies of her plans on his desk and leaving without a word when class was over. Yes, that'll have to do, she thought.
She looked at the clock. An hour to go.
Might as well use the time to my advantage, Hermione thought. She opened her textbook and reread the chapter after Sleeping Draughts—Essence of Dittany. She had already studied this at least four times, so Hermione played a silent game with herself where she tried to guess the next word in the book straight from memory.
Just before time was up, someone plopped noisily into the chair next to hers. Without looking away, she deduced that it was Potter from the way he slammed his book bag onto the table. She smirked inwardly.
I win, her inside voice said. Her outside voice said, "Nice of you to finally join me. I thought it was never going to happen."
"Let's just get this over with." Harry Potter grumbled.
Hermione gathered the loose sheets of parchment and pushed them to his side of the table. Without looking at him she said, "You missed the planning stage. Now all that's left is the execution. Those papers contain everything you need to know."
He did not even touch the papers. He barely even glanced. "Absolutely not."
"Excuse me?" She demanded, finally making eye contact.
"I said 'absolutely not'." Hermione opened her mouth to tell him where exactly he can stick his opinion but he interrupted her. "I'm not going to follow you blindly just because you're at the top of our year."
She raised an eyebrow."You do know that I'm going to give us perfect marks, right?"
"I don't give a damn. This is my assignment, too. I should have a say in what goes on." He challenged, crossing his arms over his chest. In Hermione's opinion, he was acting very childishly by refusing to do what was best for their grades just to prove a lousy point.
They stared each other down.
After thirty seconds, Hermione made a move that she would come to regret in two weeks' time. She pointed her wand at the stack of perfect plans and incinerated them, leaving behind charred ashes. She vanished the ashes, as well. It didn't bother her as much as it should have, mostly because she had already memorized all the plans after copying them down twice. Potter's face satisfyingly grew astounded at her actions.
"Fine." She said.
"Fine." He echoed. "Let's get started, then." Potter stood from his seat to procure his supplies from a cabinet at the back of the room, but Hermione stopped him.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm… getting the ingredients." He told her as if she were a child to explain so simply.
"Do you mean to work on it right now?"
"Why not? Everyone else is." He gestured to their surroundings. He was partially right. The other students were already taking ingredients and preheating their cauldrons. There were a few who did not start right away. Draco was one of them, and Hermione knew why.
"Are you stupid? Why do you think Professor Snape gave us two weeks if the potion's that easy to make?" She answered her own question after a stretch of silence from him. "Because we're supposed to gather the ingredients ourselves at the best possible moments." She paused. "If you had only spared a few seconds of your precious time to read my plans, you would have realized that the two of us are scheduled to go to Hagrid's garden to harvest valerian sprigs at nine tomorrow for maximum moisture!" She said in one breath.
Hermione had not realized that their private conversation was no longer so. Towards the beginning, people around them started listening in, but by the time Hermione's speech was finished, the whole class was staring at them. Snape looked nothing short of amused.
She turned around, her eyes scaring any potential gawkers. They looked away.
Potter saw this and merely rolled his eyes. "The sooner we're done with this, the better." He said in a lower voice.
"No." Said Hermione with conviction. "You are not jeopardizing my grades because of your pettiness. We are no longer children, Potter. Act like it." She half-whispered. "Besides… there's only five minutes left."
He huffed and seemed to be considering his options. "Should've led with that instead of going on a whole rant," Potter said. Finally, he sat back down on the chair and said. "So now what?"
Hermione raised her chin haughtily. "You tell me. You're the one who didn't agree to my plans."
Potter nodded. "Alright, so... let's plan. What are the ingredients of a Sleeping Draught?"
She studied her nails and answered after a moment. "I don't feel like planning right now."
"Are you serious?" He deadpanned.
"I'm much too angry with you to cooperate, Potter. So yes, I am serious."
They sat in silence for a few minutes, not facing the other, when Snape decided to dismiss the class right on time. Hermione was thankful. She didn't know whether she could stand another moment alone with this boy.
As she gathered her things and stood, she told him, "Meet me in the library tomorrow after dinner. We'll talk there."
"Spectacular." He said sarcastically, accompanied with a roll of his eyes.
"Perfect." She retorted.
"Wonderful."
"Grand."
"Excellent."
Potter stood begrudgingly as Professor Snape called him forward to discuss his punishment.
Hermione wasn't worried. She was a Slytherin. She was cunning, ambitious, and she knew exactly how to get what she wanted from him. Tomorrow, in the library, she will make him relent to her plans without him knowing it. She would not give up.
Hermione wanted to give up.
Her fists were balled in her hair, gripping them by the roots. There were crumpled and discarded pieces of parchment atop the table, and her unfocused eyes gazed unseeingly at all the plans they'd represented—destroyed and squashed by Harry Potter, who was seated smugly in front of her.
Just when she thought things couldn't get any worse, Potter's red-haired best friend had taken the chair next to him at their table, regarding Hermione with a suspicious look.
Weasley had been paired with Anya Mozorov. Nobody could deny the girl's charm and sweetness, but she only had a twelfth of Hermione's intelligence. Because of this, she didn't know the best way to brew a Sleeping Draught. Both Weasley and Anya hadn't known better, finishing their potion before class ended, just like the majority of the students. The ginger didn't understand the need for special instructions such as the one Hermione had been suggesting. The adequate result he had gotten was his standard. Weasley played the devil's advocate the whole time.
She wanted to explode.
For the past hour, Hermione had been trying ways to get what she wanted without compromise. She had proposed several ideas and packaged them in such a way that they would appeal to him at first… but he saw right through all of them. As soon as Hermione had him in her clutches, however, Weasley convinced Potter that her idea was full of crap. All her tactics had run out.
Now, it was she who was compromised. There really was no other option other than to meet halfway. She had explained that his plans would flunk them both, and hers would give them stellar marks, but he still disagreed. It suddenly occurred to her that Potter didn't actually want to get the highest marks, which was completely unacceptable to Hermione. He just wanted everything to be done in the most natural and practical way possible.
Hermione did not know what it felt like to fail, but she had a feeling she was about to find out.
Nothing was to be done to move him, however. Harry Potter was as stubborn as they made them. After internally scolding herself for the decision she was about to make, she finally relented with a forced 'fine' from her clenched teeth. A triumphant smile painted his spectacle-framed face.
Potter pumped his fists in the air, victorious.
"I feel as though…" Hermione started when he calmed down. "You're only doing this to spite me."
Potter gave her a look but said nothing.
"Because who in the right mind would turn down a perfectly good plan?" She questioned. "There's really no other explanation other than the fact that you're doing this to get back at me and my friends."
"Lestrange, your methods are impossible!" Potter threw his hands up. "Did you expect me to agree to something that required me to wake up at three in the morning and pull flobberworms out of the mud?" He and Weasley laughed.
She reddened. "Okay, fine, yes, maybe that was a little extreme. I could have adjusted it to five instead of three... but I still can't help thinking that you're only doing this just because." She crossed her arms in front of her chest.
After a while, he admitted, "Maybe you're right."
She groaned. "I knew it." She paused. "Look, I understand that you've got this grudge against my friends… but I have never done anything to you, and you can't deny that. So don't take your anger out on this Potions assignment because it's only going to backfire on you."
Weasley interjected, "He can't help it. You're one of them."
"And what's that supposed to mean?" She challenged the ginger.
He gestured to her. "You-you're a bully!" Someone from a different table shushed him. He lowered his voice. "You and your lot! You do nothing but torment others."
Hermione's eyes narrowed into slits. "What you're doing, Weasley, is you're generalizing us. You're assuming that I take part in the aforementioned 'bullying'"—she gestured with finger-quotes in the air—"without confirming whether or not I actually do."
She paused, gathering her wits. Vulnerable was something she was not, especially when she wasn't around her friends. Hermione was worried to be overheard by someone and have her struggles publicized across the student body.
The two boys watched her. She continued. "You don't understand that I'm trying so hard to remain neutral. So quit assuming that my friends and I are all the same."
Weasley leaned in on the table, menacingly whispering, "What makes you think you're better than the lot of them? Hmm? Last I checked, neutral isn't good enough."
"I beg your pardon?" She half-yelled. Hermione was appalled. She had bared her feelings to two mere strangers, and this was his reaction? It was her birthday for Merlin's sake!
"It doesn't mean shite. What is it people say? Something like 'neutrality sides with the oppressor.'"
Shocked would be an understatement. Hermione was offended, astounded, and aghast, all at the same time. She warred with herself inwardly, trying to look for a way to defend her honor... but there was none. Weasley was right. Weasley, who had not seen marks higher than a mere 'pass' had schooled her, and he schooled her well.
It did not make her better than her friends, remaining to be neutral. She did nothing to alleviate the harassment that her friends were afflicting onto people who didn't deserve it. She was every bit as responsible for all the pain their victims had undergone.
Potter snapped her out of her stunned episode. "Right so… I'll see you tomorrow at five in the morning, then, Lestrange?"
"I-I suppose," she stammered.
"Great," he said with false enthusiasm. He stood, gathering his parchment. Weasley still hadn't moved. He was watching her blank expression with interest. Potter called, "Ron?"
Finally, he stood, following his friend out of the library. Hermione was left alone.
She left the library after putting books back on their shelves, deciding to take the long way to her dormitory. She didn't hold her head high like she usually did when she walked alone. Instead, her eyes were glazed over, barely taking in her surroundings. There weren't many students she crossed paths with, but when there were, they stared. Normally, Hermione would have stared back to get them to look away, but she honestly didn't care.
She was shaken.
Weasley's words haunted her even as she entered the common room. However, the minute she crossed the threshold, her friends surprised her with muffins, candies, and treats smuggled from the Great Hall. They celebrated her birthday by having a mini-party in the common room, just the ten of them. Nobody noticed that anything was amiss with Hermione… or so she thought.
Around the time her friends started getting sleepy, she decided that it was a good time for them to retreat back into their dormitories. After all, she wasn't in the mood for staying up late and making fun of her peers. Everybody started departing right after, all but Draco.
He sat next to her on the settee once they were gone. "Alright. What's wrong?"
She avoided his eyes. "What do you mean?"
"I mean—what's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong, why would you think that?"
"Come on, Lestrange, you know I see right through you. Now, out with it."
"I'm telling you, Malfoy, there's nothing wrong."
He gave her a look and said, "Right, let's see. You were zoning out most of the time, you didn't throw a fit over us stealing from the Great Hall, you didn't realize that Goyle was making eyes at you, you didn't correct Millie when she dangled a participle, and… what was that… you specifically told us not to make a fuss over your birthday, yet here you are—not a single word in protest." He counted on his fingers. "It sounds to me like something's definitely wrong."
She sighed. He did see through her. "I'm just exhausted from planning the Potions assignment. That's all."
He furrowed his brows. "Did Potter say something to you? Because I swear I'll—"
"No, he didn't. He was… tolerable." she interrupted, standing from the leather couch. Hermione was starting to get irritated at his prying. "Really, there's nothing wrong."
Draco gave her a disbelieving look. "I—"
"Draco." She said. "Drop it… please?"
He stood and looked at her, studying her face. Draco realized that whatever was monopolizing her thoughts wouldn't be known to him… at least not right now. Still, he was determined to find out soon. Judging from the way she rubbed her eyes and yawned, it was high time for some much-needed rest. He softened in the way he usually did around Hermione. "Alright."
"Thank you."
"You'll come tomorrow, though, right? To watch me—I mean us—try out for the Quidditch team?"
She smiled genuinely. "Of course. I wouldn't miss it for the world."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
He returned the smile. "It's at six, okay? Goodnight."
"Night." She turned her back to him and made her way to the girls' dormitories, but he called her again.
"Hermione," He sauntered towards her, stopping when he was less than two feet away. "Happy birthday." He placed his hand on her shoulder and pulled her close rather awkwardly, placing a chaste peck on her cheek.
Her face turned into the color of a ripe tomato.
Draco pulled away, quickly turning around and half-jogging in the direction of his dorm room. Hermione stayed rooted to the spot, stunned. She lifted her hand to brush the spot where he had kissed her. There was nothing different on the surface of her skin, but why did that spot feel hotter than her whole face?
Between worrying about what Weasley said in the library and the way Draco left her that evening, Hermione didn't get much sleep that night. It was a pity, really, because she woke up at four-thirty in the morning. She had barely gotten three hours in.
It was freezing. Hermione pulled her cloak closer to her body, trying to get as warm as possible before sunrise. She stood by the lake, waiting for her partner to appear. The glass jar and two pairs of gloves were already prepared next to her feet.
Not one, but two figures emerged from the castle. From what it looked like, Potter had brought Weasley along. Hermione rolled her eyes. Pansy wasn't joking when she said Potter and Weasley came as a package deal. She was still feeling a little awkward around Wesley since the night before when he had called her out. Uncomfortable would be an understatement.
"Why'd you bring him?"
"He asked to come along," Potter answered.
"I don't trust you," said Weasley.
"What's new?" Hermione sighed. "Let's get this over with, then."
She handed Potter a pair of gloves and told him exactly how to harvest a flobberworm. His gloved hand would need to be coated in mud and placed next to the worm poking out for air. Then, it would need to be coaxed out of its hole gently, and if this was done right, the worm would willingly crawl onto the hand and protest not when placed inside the jar. If done wrong, however, the worm would spray its victim with sticky, stringy saliva.
The two of them harvested worms until well after sunrise. Weasley was no help at all as he had only laughed at them for the most part, and when he stopped, they found him slumped against the nearest tree, deep in slumber. Hermione envied him as her eyelids began dropping at the sight.
By the time the jar was full, it was almost half-past six. Hermione felt better than she had that morning, however, because she and Potter had talked about the next steps in gathering ingredients while harvesting worms. She even managed to smile at a joke he'd cracked.
Her hem was thoroughly soaked in mud, but Potter was looking much worse. The mixture of flobberworm saliva and mud had gotten on his cheek, but she chose to kept quiet rather than point it out.
She decided to go back to her dormitory and take a quick shower before having breakfast at the Great Hall—and then suddenly, she remembered that she was supposed to be watching her friends try out for the Quidditch team.
Crap. She was half an hour late. They might already be finished.
Thankfully, the Quidditch pitch was not too far from the place they had gone to harvest worms. As the three of them walked back to the castle, they happened to come across it. There were green figures zooming around the sky. She looked for her friends and—there. She spotted Theo and Draco hovering in the air, and she suspected Pansy was the figure blurred in motion. Draco's head was looking around for something when Theo spotted her on the ground. He said something to Draco and pointed at her. She waved enthusiastically.
Draco took one look at Hermione, Potter, and Weasley, and ignored her.
Hermione raised a brow but thought nothing about it. She parted with the Gryffindors with one word and made a beeline for Daphne, whom she had spotted sitting on a bench. The girl hadn't fully recovered from her cold. The telltale sign was the white handkerchief she held in her hand.
"Hermione, there you are! We've been looking for you all morning! Where've you been? And goodness, why are you caked in mud?"
She plopped next to her, noticing that Daphne scooted an inch away but deciding not to comment on it. "I had to harvest flobberworms for the Potions assignment with Potter. Are you finished with it?"
"No. I have Dean Thomas as a partner. He was ill yesterday, too. He's still feeling ill, so we haven't gotten around to doing it."
"Oh," Hermione observed the green-dotted sky. "So what did I miss?"
"Well," she paused, blowing her nose. "They'd already eliminated most people who tried out. They did it so quickly, too! They made them do one lap around the pitch, and immediately, they knew who to weed out, just like that." She snapped her fingers.
"Quidditch is strange."
"I agree. So it's down to the five of them, and there are only three slots open. I'm hoping our friends get in, Mione. They've worked so hard for this."
"Me too."
The girls turned their attention to their friends. Pansy was panting in exertion, but there was a triumphant and subtly cocky smirk on her face. Theo, too, was looking happy as he dodged ball after ball that was headed straight for his chest. Draco, on the other hand, was looking a little off. He would wear his usual mask of indifference in classrooms or hallways, but when he was on a broom, he was nothing short of thrilled. He wore the indifferent mask now. Hermione's hopes for him faltered. Had he underperformed while she was gone?
Daphne noticed his expression as well. "You know, Malfoy almost panicked when we left the common room without you. He asked me and Pans to check the loos and we did, but you weren't there. We figured you were out with Potter for Potions, but Malfoy didn't believe us. Said you'd promised him you'd watch today." She put the white fabric to her nose again.
"Yes, I did promise. It's my fault. I totally forgot about this. I'll find a way to make it up to them."
"Look! They're flying down, they must be finished." Hermione looked back at the field and saw that Daphne was right. The floating Slytherins quickly descended back to the grass. They gathered around the team's captain. The rest of the team was also standing behind Flint.
Hermione held her breath as she realized that they were being deliberated. Faintly, she could hear Marcus Flint's voice as he told them who had and hadn't made the cut.
"Pansy Parkinson!" He yelled. "Stand over here." Flint gestured to the empty space by their right. A confused look passed Pansy's face, but she wiped it away quickly, going over to the area Flint pointed her to.
"What does that mean?" Hermione asked.
"I don't know," Daphne replied.
"Draco Malfoy! Join her, please." Flint said. Draco's expression did not change. He still looked impassive and bored, as he did earlier on his broom.
Hermione gasped. She felt bad for Pansy and Draco. They had practiced hard and long every chance they got over the summer. In her opinion, the two of them were really good. She didn't understand why they were being rejected. Something had to be done to cheer them up later. She just hoped Theo didn't join them.
"Last," said Flint. "Riley Tosh. Stand over there."
"Oh no," said Daphne. "He didn't make it."
"What?" Hermione asked, but Daphne didn't reply. Her eyes were trained on them.
Flint turned and faced his team. He stood in front of Pansy, Draco, and the other boy and said, "The three of you, step forward please." They each took a tentative step forward. Flint said, "Gentlemen, your new teammates. Welcome to the Slytherin Quidditch Team."
The team cheered and clapped loudly, going over to the three and patting them on the backs or shoving them playfully.
Oh. Hermione understood. Pansy and Draco had passed. Theo had not. Hermione looked at him now. He was smiling and clapping along with the others, but there was something off about it. His smile didn't reach his eyes. He was faking it.
"Poor Theo," Hermione said.
Daphne didn't seem to hear her as she pocketed her handkerchief, hopped off the bench, and made her way across the field where Theo stood. "Daph, what are you doing?" Hermione hurried and followed behind her.
She collided with Theo, throwing her arms around him in a hug. Nobody paid them any attention except Hermione. They were all busy congratulating the three rookies.
Daphne said, "It's okay, Theo. It doesn't mean anything."
He put his hands on either side of her and gently pried her away. "I know. It's fine."
Daphne studied him intently, her eyes darting around his face. "Are you okay?"
"I'm grand." He said. He definitely didn't sound grand.
Pansy broke from the crowd and ran to her friends. Hermione saw Theo place a mask of delight on his face as he congratulated Pansy. Daphne, too, wore a forced smile, as she was probably still worried about Theo. Hermione enveloped Pansy in a quick hug as she told her she was proud.
"Congratulations, Pans!" Exclaimed Hermione.
"Thanks!" she said.
Theo asked, "Did they tell you what your position is?"
"Yeah," she replied. She cleared her throat and said somewhat reluctantly, "I'm a Chaser."
An awkward silence fell on the four. Since they were young children, Theo had openly expressed his desire to become a Slytherin Chaser. He had wished for it every year on his birthday. Hermione was convinced that nobody in the world wanted the position more than Theo did. His face fell marginally. "That-that's great, Pans, I'm so happy for you," he said.
"Hey, don't be sad, alright?" Pansy tried to smile reassuringly. "Try again next year, I'm sure you'd get in."
"Yeah, I'll try."
She smiled genuinely. "That's the spirit."
"Where's Draco?" Hermione asked.
"Oh, he's over there talking to Flint." Pansy jabbed a thumb behind her, and Hermione found him on the other side of the pitch. Pansy leaned and said confidentially, "Malfoy took Higgs's spot."
"What?" Daphne whispered, intrigued. "Really?"
Hermione cocked her head. "What's Higgs's spot?"
"Higgs was our Seeker. There were no openings for that position—just for one Chaser, one Keeper, and one Beater… but Malfoy managed to snag it, anyway. Look over there—Higgs is positively fuming. He's the beater now." Pansy pointed to a boy who looked very angry indeed. He was throwing his broomstick on the ground and picking it back up repeatedly. The other Slytherins watched him, laughing.
"He's doing a great job beating if you ask me." Theo joked bitterly, trying to ease the tension around him. It didn't work, but the three girls laughed fakely anyway.
"I reckon Draco asked for the spot on purpose."
"Why would he do that?" Daphne asked Pansy.
"Because do you remember when we were young, they got into a fight at Theo's birthday party? And then Lucius punished Malfoy because he caused a scene?"
Hermione said. "I remember." All too well, she added in her head.
"I think Malfoy's trying to get back at him."
Hermione nodded. "From the looks of him, it's certainly working."
"Look! Here comes Malfoy!"
The four of them met him halfway across the field, congratulating him and giving him pats on the back. Draco advised Theo to try again next year as well, and Theo put on his unconvincing fake smile for the third time. It fooled nobody.
Daphne pulled Theo away from the rest of the group and instructed them to go on without the two. Discreetly, she whispered to Hermione that she just wanted to make sure Theo was really okay, and she couldn't do that with so many people around.
Meanwhile, Draco was ignoring Hermione. He didn't look at her as he and Pansy conversed going back to their common room. Hermione trailed after the pair like a lost puppy.
When Pansy and Draco split up to shower and change into their school uniforms for the day, Hermione followed after Draco and pulled his arm back to talk to him. "Draco, wait."
He turned, looking irritated. He did not look at her.
"What's going on?" She asked.
"Nothing."
"Are you angry with me?"
He rolled his eyes. "Why would I be angry with you?"
"I know you are," she let go of his arm and fidgeted with her thumbs, eyes trained on the floor. "Look, I'm sorry I almost didn't make it to the tryouts. I had to harvest flobberworms with Potter, and you know that that's got to be done before sunrise for the best results. But I… I lost track of time, and I'm sorry."
Without looking at her he said, "Right." Draco turned to leave.
Hermione grabbed his arm again. This time, he yanked it back but turned to her nonetheless.
"Why are you still upset?" She asked, her brows furrowing.
"I'm not."
"You are."
Draco finally looked at her. She found that his normally warm grey irises were cold as ice. "Why do you care?" He asked, stepping closer. His cheeks flared an angry color.
Hermione stepped back. For the first time in her life, she felt intimidated by Draco. His slightly taller build also contributed to her fright. Still, she lifted her chin and said, "I-I care because you're my friend, and I don't like it when my friends are upset. Look, I know it's me you're mad at, and I'll make it up to you. I promise."
He chuckled darkly. "That's rich." He stepped forward once, his eyes narrowing. Hermione copied him, stepping back once again. Draco said, "Your promises don't mean shite."
She inhaled sharply. "What?" Hermione felt as if she was punched.
"Leave me alone, Lestrange." He quickly pivoted and walked back towards his dorm room, not looking back.
Hermione was dumbstruck. Did Draco really just curse at her? After she'd apologized? Why was he being so mean? She didn't even miss the tryouts completely—she'd been there in time to see him get the spot. Her promise wasn't completely worthless, was it? Hermione tried not to cry. Inhale, exhale.
At the back of her mind, she felt the beginnings of a panic attack rising. Quickly, she plopped down on a chair nearest her and closed her eyes. Her fingers started trembling. She balled them into fists and squashed away her worries, focusing on counting to ten.
For the rest of the day, Hermione tried to avoid Draco as much as possible. She was afraid that he might trigger another almost-panic attack that she'd had to pull herself out of before it turned into something worse. At breakfast and lunch, she'd sat on the opposite end of the table from him to avoid any interaction. She also walked separately from any subgroup within their friend group that Draco was in. Of course, it also helped that he seemed to be avoiding her, too. The feeling was awful.
Daphne, too, had been making herself scarce. Only a few looks and even fewer words had been exchanged between Hermione and her best friend after breakfast. She longed to ask her what was wrong, but she was afraid that she herself might not be emotionally capable of receiving the burdens of receiving someone else's problems. She would ask her eventually, but not right at this moment. Hermione assumed Daphne felt the same way, based on the concerned looks she gave her, as well as her lack of inquiry.
In Potions, not once had Hermione looked behind her in fear that she would make eye contact with Draco. Pansy, Tracey, Draco, Theo, and Blaise were talking about something she was not paying attention to, but she didn't want to find out. Her eyes were glazed over, trained on the other side of the room.
She had been daydreaming about Mandrake roots and their medicinal benefits when a blur of red and black caught her attention. It was Potter, waving at her tentatively. Weasley was behind him. Since when had Potter become all friendly? Hermione smiled meekly and looked away when she realized that her eyes were previously glued on the cauldron cabinet on the Gryffindor side of the room. Potter and Wesley took their seats, conversing between them in hushed tones.
"Look who's gone all chummy with the Gryffindors," said Blaise from behind her. "I'd watch out for Scarhead's sidekick, if I were you, Lestrange. Wouldn't want to catch Weasel's poverty disease, now would you?"
Hermione shook her head, remaining silent.
She felt suddenly aware as tension crept up on her, similar to the way she felt whenever someone's eyes were trained on her back. She shivered and moved to clasp her hands together.
The quill atop her table had been knocked to the ground by the movement of her hands. It bounced on the floor twice and rolled behind her so that if she wanted to see where it went, she'd have to crane her head around and risk accidentally making eye contact with the blond boy. As it was, all her spare quills were in her room because she had forgotten to pack them when she hurried that morning after her almost-panic attack.
She sighed and decided to look back.
Draco's eyes were not on her. Instead, he glowered at something in the distance, and after Hermione bent to pick up her quill, she turned to that direction and saw that he glared at Potter and Weasley. She shook her head and focused on Snape's lecture.
Daphne asked Hermione to teach her how to answer their Transfiguration homework due the next day, so they stayed up late on Hermione's bed to discuss it. They had offered Millie to join, but the girl had apparently already copied off of a skinny-looking Ravenclaw, so she had declined. All three other girls had already gone to bed hours ago, and now, it was just the pair of them awake. They spoke in hushed tones, not bothering to cast a silencing charm.
"...and then just like that, the slippers should turn right back into rabbits," Hermione concluded.
"Mhmm… and the counterspell is…?" Daphne trailed off. "Ah-ah, I've got it, it's at the tip of my tongue." She said when Hermione tried to interject with the correct answer. "The Lapifors Spell?" Daphne asked.
"Yes, you're right."
"Finally! You've no idea how long I've been confused." She said, writing the answer down on her parchment. She magicked it to put itself away with a quick spell and a yawn.
"Thank you so much, Hermione, you're amazing. What would I do without you?" She asked.
"Terrorize a skinny Ravenclaw into showing his answers to you, I reckon." They laughed for a few seconds, trying to keep their voices low.
They calmed down, but after a while, Daphne still hadn't made a move to go back to her bed. There was a crease in between her brows as she gazed unseeingly at Hermione's blanket. Hermione was about to ask her what was wrong, but Daphne spoke up.
"Hermione, if I tell you a secret, do you swear to keep it?" She asked, still gazing at the blanket.
"Of course, Daph, you can trust me."
She pulled out her wand and cast a Muffliato around Hermione's bed. She took a deep breath.
And another.
And one more.
And then finally…
"You go first."
Hermione asked, "Hm?"
"Something's been bothering you too, hasn't there?"
"Well, yes, I... uh, suppose." Daphne put her on-the-spot. She paused, gathering her thoughts and organizing how to tell her that her second-best-friend Draco might no longer hold the title anymore.
"See, um… it's about er, this morning when… when Dr—"
"IkissedTheo." Daphne blurted.
Hermione blinked. "What?" She paused, staring at Daphne with an incredulous look. She completely forgot about her own problems. "I'm sorry, but… what? "
"I. Kissed. Theo." She said slowly.
"Daph. Are you serious?"
She nodded.
"I didn't even know you fancied him."
"It just… happened so quickly, I don't know…" she shook her head and started breathing raggedly.
Hermione placed a hand on her wrist. "Calm down, Daph. Start from the beginning, maybe?"
She sighed and finally looked at Hermione. "This morning, after Theo didn't make the cut, I talked to him privately. Remember? I made you, Pansy, and Draco go ahead?"
"I remember."
"Right. So I pulled him into an empty classroom and asked him what was wrong." Daphne paused. "I thought he'd put on a brave face, you know, like what he does around everybody else… but Hermione, he totally… he just… told me everything. He told me that he failed, and he was pretty much worthless. He didn't have the courage to face his father now that he didn't make the team. He was so, so disappointed in himself, and he just… broke down crying."
Hermione pulled both of Daphne's hands into hers and rubbed them comfortingly with her thumbs.
"He was so vulnerable and he looked at me as if I could do no wrong, and he clung to me, Hermione, he actually clung to me." She paused. Daphne said breathlessly, "So I kissed him. Didn't even think about it."
"And—and then?"
She looked away. "Well, I actually… don't know. I sort of ran away right after. I didn't look at his face."
"Merlin."
"Oh, I know, Hermione. I can't believe it either!" She shrugged.
Hermione squeezed her friend's hand. "Do you fancy him, Daph?"
She opened her mouth but no sound came out. Daphne took her time and answered after a while. "I think I do. Wouldn't have kissed him if I didn't."
"Then that's great! I don't see why you're so worked up."
"Because, Hermione," she looked at her best friend. "I'm not sure if he likes me back."
"Well, why wouldn't he?"
She looked down. "Earlier at breakfast—after I… you know—he didn't speak to me. He didn't do so much as look at me. And it wasn't just at breakfast, either. For the whole day, he hasn't minded me at all. I'm starting to think, like, what if kissing him was a mistake? What if he doesn't like me, Hermione? I've just made a complete fool of myself. Oh, this is so embarrassing. I wish I could turn back time and undo everything, I should talk to him tomorrow and say that I didn't mean it. I was just—"
"Daphne, stop. Listen to me," Hermione said, caressing her hand lightly. "You don't know that."
She shook her head. Daphne's breathing started quickening again, but Hermione said, "Tell you what, Daph. You go ahead and sleep on it, and I'm sure Theo's going to be back to normal soon, okay? You've been up early today so you're probably knackered, which explains why you aren't thinking clearly."
She sighed. "Yeah, you're right. I'm probably just…" she shrugged. "Overthinking. Wait, what about you?"
"What about me?"
"What's your thing? What's got you sad today too?"
"Oh, that." Hermione blinked. "It's—it's nothing. Really. Draco's just mad at me for being late to his Quidditch tryouts. I'm sure he'll get over it soon." She said, fidgeting with her blanket.
"Don't worry, I reckon he will, too. You know Malfoy—he'll find someone else whose world doesn't revolve around him and make that person feel guilty about it."
Hermione chuckled quietly.
At that, Daphne rose from her spot on Hermione's bed and slowly made her way to her own. Their beds were right next to each other.
Hermione snuffed out the candles around her that they had kept lit up for their little study session. She bundled up in her blanket and closed her eyes.
"Hermione?"
"Hmm?" She replied, eyes shut.
Daphne spoke softly so as not to be overheard by anyone who might have still been awake. "What if he doesn't like me?" In her head, Hermione pictured a frown on her friend's face.
She replied as softly as Daphne did. "What if he does?"
Daphne was quiet for a long time, and after a while, Hermione thought that sleep had already taken over the girl. However, two minutes later, she giggled.