Disclaimer: I do not own anything.
A/N: Thank you to all those who've shown interest, especially to those who reviewed!
Chapter Two: Second Year
Rumour has it that Hermes Granger's hugs were miraculous.
It all started when Neville Longbottom spectacularly failed a Potions assignment and had a fifteen-minute lecture from Snape about the importance of having brains to become a successful wizard. Tears were already streaming down from his face as he quietly excused himself from Potions class and hadn't returned even after the lesson had ended.
Hermes told his best friends Harry and Ron that he'd like to check up on Neville first before going to the Great Hall. When he returned, the despondent Gryffindor was trailing behind and Hermes had to force him to eat until Neville was at least smiling again.
For the next Potions assignment, Snape gave Neville another fifteen-minute lecture in the importance of honesty and integrity, much to the confusion of the whole class. Snape grumpily deducted ten points from Neville and slammed his homework on his table. Neville exclaimed a small squeak in surprise, and those who were near him peeked at his assignment. His classmates congratulated him afterwards because he got an 'A' for his Potions essay.
Later that afternoon, Neville tearfully hugged Hermes in thanks. Hermes laughed and patted his head, telling him it was all him, really, and he merely guided him to the right track.
A few weeks after, a crying Lavender revealed that her pet rabbit was missing from home. Hermes, who was sitting beside her during lunch, wrapped his arms around her and patted her head. He assured her that he would soon be found, he was sure.
By dinner, Lavender was crying once more. This time her tears were due to happiness because her mother Owled from home, telling her that Binky the Rabbit was found hiding inside one of her drawers. She threw her arms around Hermes in thanks. Hermes would laugh, tell her he did not even do anything, but was glad Binky was found.
At the end of the month, Harry and Ron had a disastrous row in front of the whole student body, fists exchanged and was punished by detention and demerits.
They were still ignoring each other for two days. Hermes, fed up with their stupid silent treatment, swung both of his arms around his best friends and forced them to face each other, threatening them that he wouldn't let go until they made up.
After stumbled apologies and awkward smiles, Harry and Ron grinned at each other and wrapped their arms around each other. Hermes wore a proud grin on his face, smacking both of them at the back of their necks. They were idiots and it seriously disrupted his studying when the two blokes weren't talking.
"Is it true Hermes Granger's hugs bring miracles?" inquisitive Colin Creevey asked Neville one time.
The older Gryffindor looked down at him and frowned. "What?" he asked. He scratched the back of his neck, looked thoughtful for a while, "I'm not really sure but… but he does give really warm hugs."
Lavender laughed openly in front of a disgruntled Colin Creevey when he asked her this time. "That's rubbish," she said, shaking her head as she smiled at the oblivious Hermes Granger. "But, if you must know, his big hugs make you all warm and tingly."
Colin still was unsatisfied with their answers but felt nervous about interrogating The-Boy-Who-Lived himself. Hence, he believed the next best thing was to ask the subject of the rumour himself.
"Is it true your hugs bring miracles?" he blurted, finally cornering the second year on one of the overstuffed couches in the Gryffindor Common Room.
Hermes slowly looked up from his parchment and frowned. "What?" he asked. When the first year repeated his question, his eyebrows flew behind his curly fringes. "Where did you even get that idea?"
Colin shrugged. "People are talking about it," he said. "I got curious."
The older wizard snorted and placed his assignment aside. "First of all, that is ridiculous," he said, rolling his eyes. "Second of all, there is no such thing as miracles… hmm, well maybe there is, but I've yet to witness one." He smiled at the younger first year. "Last of all, maybe you want to try it out for yourself?"
He opened his arms and beckoned him closer. Admittedly, Colin was curious. It was weird, however, that said Gryffindor freely gave something affectionate to other people. He had been observing the Golden Trio for a while now, mostly because he had always been a fan of Harry Potter.
"Why do you like giving hugs?" he blurted out before he could stop himself.
"Err," Hermes said, absentmindedly scratching his chin, "my mother used to tell me hugs can soothe the soul or something like that. I found out long before that when someone doesn't really feel well, a hug could remedy that so…"
He wiggled his arms once more and Colin finally relented. Instantly, warmth spread through his body and he sighed, the pain of going away from home, of venturing at Hogwarts that was terrifying and amazing at the same time, seemed to ease.
"Feeling better already, Colin?" he asked, slightly amused.
"Loads," he confessed, reluctantly pulling away from Hermes' arms. "Thanks."
He waved his hand dismissively and went back to his homework.
By then, the ridiculous rumour immediately fizzled as the students of Hogwarts got swamped with homework and the recent strange activities in Hogwarts occupied their minds. Colin Creevey, however, couldn't help but spread around that Hermes Granger gave the best hugs, comically calling it Granger's Hug of Warmth.
Hermes expelled a deep sigh, glaring at Harry across the table. A few days ago, strange writing appeared on a wall, declaring that this 'Chamber of Secrets' had been opened and warned the enemies of an 'heir'. Such writings could usually be deemed as a prank by the professors, but upon seeing a petrified Mrs Norris underneath it was alarming.
The whole school was abuzz with a strange fascination with the threat written with red paint. Numerous speculations about the Chamber of Secrets were exchanged, some even trying to identify who the enemies were and who was the heir.
Harry, who had the unfortunate timing of being the only student at the crime scene when the professors found out, was speculated continuously as the 'heir'. Determined to prove everybody wrong, he had dragged his best friends in the library to try to research about the Chamber of Secrets.
True, it thrilled Hermes that at least his friends were spending time with him in the library, but for them to do anything besides studying wasn't exactly what he had in mind.
"Have you found anything?" Harry asked, raising his eyes to look at him.
Hermes shook his head. "I've skimmed through my tenth book but none of the books mentioned anything about the Chamber of Secrets," he answered back with a frustrated frown. "It was briefly mentioned in 'Hogwarts: A History' but it was merely chalked up as a myth, Harry." He expelled a deep sigh and placed his chin on top of his palm. "Maybe it is a myth."
Harry mirrored his frown and absentmindedly scrubbed his scar.
Worried, Hermes sat up straighter. "Is it hurting again?" he asked.
"No, no, old habits," Harry reassured and went back to reading quietly.
Hermes still looked at him dubiously but reluctantly went back to his book. At the same time, a soft snort beside Harry broke him off from his concentration.
"Ron, mate, really," Hermes said, smacking Ron awake with the back of his hand. "If you're going to just sleep, you can go back to the dormitories."
Ron shook himself awake and sat up properly. "Wha –? No, no, let me help," he said, rubbing his face to get rid of any remnants of sleep.
"Why are you even tired?" Hermes asked in exasperation.
"Mum's been bothering me all night," Ron grumbled, randomly skimming through the books to look for something to read. "She had this weird feeling that something's wrong with Gin." He snorted and darted a glance at Harry. "Aside from fancying my best mate, that is."
Harry's cheeks reddened. "Shut up, Ron," he said, smacking him with a book.
"But seriously, Ginny's been acting really shady for the past few days," Ron continued, absentmindedly rubbing his smarting arm. "Going to classes late, lapses in memory, being a little distant…"
"Maybe she's just homesick," Hermes suggested.
The redhead merely shrugged his shoulders and finally grabbed the thinnest book in the pile. "I dunno. She's always been weird anyway," Ron murmured and perused his book, ending the conversation.
Harry absentmindedly rubbed his scar again, prompting Hermes to frown. "Are you still hearing voices, Harry?" he blurted out.
The bespectacled wizard lightly glared at him, his cheeks a little pink. "Yes," he snappily replied. "I'm not barmy, Hermes."
"If you weren't, we should hear the voices too," he shot back matter-of-factly.
"Give it a rest, mate," Ron said, glaring at his direction.
Hermes opened his mouth, about to insist for him to tell someone like Madame Pomfrey or Dumbledore, but opted to close his mouth in the end. Sighing, he went back to his books and searched anything about the Chamber of Secrets, even though a part of him already knew it was futile.
"Why don't you try-out for the Gryffindor Quidditch team?" Hermes asked as he clambered up the stands, Ron not too far behind.
Ron snorted and Hermes would have really loved to look over his shoulders to look at him in question, but they were steadily rising away from the ground. He'd instead be seated firmly on the stands first before he made other unnecessary actions.
As soon as they were settled, Hermes frowned at Ron. "Well?"
Ron buried his chin under his scarf. "The Keeper position isn't open yet," he murmured, petulantly glaring at the field as the Gryffindor Quidditch team, clad in maroon, swarmed out from their dressing room and into the field.
"You want to be a Keeper?" Hermes asked, surprised.
He shrugged. "Why not?" he asked. "You have a vital position, you know. Blocking the other team's Quaffle and such until the Seeker catches the snitch."
"Funny," he said. "From what I've concluded from your Quidditch rambles with the other blokes, I thought you wanted to be Seeker instead."
His cheeks turned into red up to the tips of his ears. "Well," he started, "I'm sure Harry wouldn't give up the position easily. I mean he's brilliant at it." He absentmindedly ruffled his hair and slumped on his seat. "I don't have the arm strength to be a Chaser or a Beater. So, Keeper."
Hermes noted a tinge of bitterness in Ron's voice, but chose to let it slide. Harry besting him in everything, Harry being the centre of attention, and Harry being the bloody hero of the Wizarding World was still a sore topic for Ron. His jealousy was uncalled for, especially because Harry didn't ask to be who he was right now. Nonetheless, Hermes understood that Ron thrived in competition. As the youngest son, he had to keep up with successful brothers. Hermes was glad he was an only child.
"What the bloody hell?"
His musings were cut short at Ron's cursing, glancing towards the field once more. Mixed with the maroon-clad Gryffindors were numerous forest green-cloaked Slytherin Quidditch players.
"Oh, honestly," Hermes said, shooting up from his seat and quickly climbing down the steps. Ron had run ahead of him, seeing that he had longer limbs than Hermes.
By the time Hermes neared Harry and the other Quidditch players, he spied Iris Malfoy at the middle. She was also surprisingly dressed in Quidditch robes, her hair neatly held up into a high ponytail. Malfoy was in the middle of a speech based on the faces of the Gryffindors, and Hermes wasn't able to catch up everything.
"… right. And that's not the only thing new this year."
She then slowly transferred her broom handle to her other hand. From beside Hermes, Ron gasped.
"That's the new Nimbus 2001," he pointed out in awe. "How did you get those?"
Hermes' eyes widened, realising that all of the Slytherin Quidditch team had identical brooms clutched in their hands.
"A gift from Iris' father," Montague, the Quidditch Captain, answered in a sneer.
Iris smirked and looked at Ron. "You see, Weasley," she drawled, "unlike some, my father can afford the best."
Pure indignation sat at the tip of Hermes' tongue as Ron turned into a sickly shade of purple. "At least," Hermes snapped, effectively getting Iris' attention, "no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in. They got in due to pure talent."
Her face twisted into a nasty sneer while the other members of the Gryffindor team snickered behind her back. Iris stalked closer to Hermes until she was mere meters from him.
"No one asked for your opinion," she slowly seethed, "you filthy little mudblood."
Angry murmurs erupted from the Gryffindor team. Ron by then had pulled out his wand, his bloody broken wand, and pointed it at Iris' face. Hermes, having not heard of such term before, rolled his eyes, deducing it was one of Malfoy's insults.
"Eat slugs, Malfoy," Ron nastily snarled.
"Ronald – "
But it was too late. A jet of purple shot out from the tip of his wand, but instead of hitting Malfoy on the face, it backfired and hit Ron's chest instead.
" – your wand is broken," Hermes lamely finished, noting in alarm as Ron turned into a sickly shade of green. With a mighty belch, Ron heaved on the ground and started vomiting slugs. "Classic Ron, acting without thinking."
Harry had rushed over Ron and tried to haul him up to his feet.
Iris and the other Slytherins were cruelly laughing at Ron's expense. Rounding back at her, Hermes glared. "You know that I was telling the truth, Malfoy," he spat. "Calling me ridiculous names doesn't erase that."
The fuming Slytherin pulled out her wand, ready to attack him, but Oliver Wood stood in between them.
"Help Harry bring Weasley away for help, Granger," he sternly said. When Hermes hesitated, he pierced him with a stare. "Go on."
"But Oliver, the practice…" Harry's words died down when Oliver shook his head and shot Montague a glare.
"Just go, Potter," Oliver said.
The triumphant smirks on the Slytherin's faces made Hermes angrier, but Harry was already dragging Ron away and he had no choice but to help him.
Later that day, as the Harry and Hermes brought Ron over to Hagrid's Hut, Hermes found out what 'mudblood' meant. He consequently gave Ron a smack behind his back, prompting him to vomit two more slugs.
"I always knew I was perceived as someone of dirty blood by snooty Purebloods," he shot back when Ron glared at him. "I've been called other more ridiculous names, Ronald. You didn't have to bloody swoop down and save the day."
"It's a derogatory term, Herms," Ron protested before vomiting another slug.
Hermes wrinkled his face and sat down beside Hagrid. "And?" he said, rolling his eyes.
"'Ermes," Hagrid said with pure indignation, "people don't usually use that name."
"Typical Malfoy to use the lowest of the low then," Hermes with a sigh.
Harry was looking at him worriedly. "You okay, though, Herms?" he asked. "I mean… after the Dragon breathed fire again…"
Admittedly, he was slightly upset. After being ostracised and isolated back in the Muggle world, there were still people here in the Wizarding World, where he obviously belonged, who thought he wasn't worthy of mingling with them. He was tired, so tired, of people telling him he didn't belong, that he was different. But after being called names numerous times before, he honestly didn't care anymore.
"I'm okay," he said with a tentative smile. "I could have answered Malfoy with a nasty remark but Ron had to stupidly use his broken wand and lost my chance."
Hagrid laughed heartily and clapped him on the back. Hermes shot forward with the force but gave Hagrid a pained smile. "Dirty blood, pureblood, loads of codswallop, I tell yer," Hagrid said with a small smile at Hermes. "There isn't a wizard alive today that's not half-blood or less. More to the point, they've yet ter think of a spell that our Hermes can't do."
Warmth pooled in his heart and he beamed up at Hagrid. "Thanks, Hagrid," he said. "That means a lot."
Hermes froze, a spell sitting at the tip of his tongue, before sheepishly turning to the stern glare of Professor McGonagall. At the corner of his eyes, he saw Malfoy quickly schooling her features and staring back at the Deputy Headmistress, her wand still raised, ready to attack.
A while ago, as Hermes was busy scanning through a book that could house some information about the Chamber of Secrets, Iris Malfoy and her cronies came clambering down and hurling insults at his general direction already. Hermes had ignored her for the first few minutes, slightly irritated that Ron and Harry were taking so long to clean up the mess they made back at Potions class.
Before he knew it, he snapped, sprang up from the stone floor with his wand on his hand. He wasn't entirely sure if he imagined things, but Malfoy looked pleased and excited, but such expression was quickly replaced by a smirk and a dangerous glint in her eyes. She had copied his stance, seemingly ready to attack, too.
Students were slowly forming a circle around them, people urging them to start duelling, and Hermes just really, really wanted to wipe off her stupid smirk on her face.
"Mr Granger, Miss Malfoy!" Professor McGonagall snapped. "We do not encourage such atrocious behaviour in the hallways."
Her disappointed eyes landed on Hermes and he guiltily returned her gaze. He felt like he had failed his favourite teacher.
"Twenty points from Gryffindor and Slytherin," she continued.
"But, Professor, Gra – "
"Not a word, Miss Malfoy," she snapped, effectively silencing the infuriating girl. Hermes couldn't stop his lips from twitching in amusement. Iris saw it and shot him a quick glare.
"And detention. Tomorrow, at 7 pm, at my office." Professor McGonagall then turned around and walked away before any of the students could protest.
Iris, fuming, shot a quick stinging hex just beside his right foot.
"OI!" Hermes exclaimed.
McGonagall twirled around, eyes still hardened into a stare, and both Hermes and Iris smiled at her innocently.
As soon as she was gone, Iris rounded at Hermes. "This is all your fault, mudblood," she snapped. She then tossed her hair and walked away, Crabbe and Goyle dutifully trailing behind her.
"That's bollocks, mate," Ron said, swinging an arm over his shoulders.
"What took you both so long?" Hermes asked, lingering annoyance still heard at the tone of his voice.
"Snape took his sweet time," Harry said, apologetically patting his back. "Come on. Maybe some dinner will cheer you up."
Hermes had been dreading his detention with Malfoy all morning. His sour mood was understandable and Harry and Ron tried their very best to at least make him feel better. Harry had suggested they research more about the Chamber of Secrets in the library, much to Ron's disgruntlement, but the redhead finally agreed. They cajoled him into eating his meals, distracted him with their annoying jokes, and by the time his detention came, he felt marginally better.
"You both will be cleaning the trophy room," Professor McGonagall said with a stern glare and a stiff upper lip. "No magic."
Iris loudly groaned and petulantly crossed her arms across her chest. Hermes, on the other hand, sighed and sullenly nodded. It was better than he expected and couldn't complain.
Professor McGonagall accompanied them until they were in the trophy room then gave them rags for cleaning. "I expect this place to be spotless in three hours."
"Yes, professor," Hermes diligently replied, already falling on all fours to start scrubbing on one corner of the room.
It took him precisely twenty minutes to realise that he was the only one doing his job.
"You're supposed to be cleaning too, Malfoy," he pointed out with a frown.
Iris, who was quietly sitting on one of the rickety tables in the trophy room, flipped her hair over her shoulder and stared him down. "Malfoys don't really do any work that is beneath them," she drawled, a small smirk growing on her face. "Besides, you're actually doing a marvellous job, Granger. So, why should I even bother?"
"Whatever, suit yourself," he murmured, not really in the mood to fight with the annoying Slytherin. Mentally, he thought about the Transfiguration essay he still hadn't started that was due next week. He was already running behind his schedule and it was all because of Iris Malfoy.
"What? No witty comeback, Granger?" Iris asked, elegantly jumping down from the table and sauntered closer to the Gryffindor. Her shoes with tiny heels clicked and clacked loudly in the room until she was standing in front of him. Hermes, still crouched on the floor, looked up and glared at the blonde.
"If you don't plan on working, just go at one corner and shut up, Malfoy," Hermes grumbled. Inwardly, he cursed himself for landing in this situation. He started to mentally rearrange his schedule that would please him, but Malfoy's black shoes stepped onto his rag, halting his furious scrubbing.
"Get off, Malfoy," he said, trying to yank the rag away, but Malfoy wouldn't move away.
"This is boring, Granger," she whined. "Just, I dunno, bloody insult me or something."
He lifted an eyebrow. "Well, if you are feeling so bored, then maybe you could actually pick up your own rag and start cleaning," he pointed out.
She clucked her tongue after he successfully managed to dislodge the rag.
"Seriously, Malfoy, this isn't too hard," he said, continuing his cleaning. "It's actually therapeutic, you know. The constant scrubbing calms the mind. It lets your focus divert from tumultuous ones to… to peace."
Iris snorted. "Typical of Granger to find mundane tasks interesting," she murmured. At the corner of his eyes, though, he saw that she was curiously surveying her rag and started to wipe the grime away from one of the trophies in the room.
Unwittingly, he smiled. "It isn't too hard now, yeah," he commented.
Malfoy blushed under the dim lights of the trophy room and stilled her scrubbing. Looking up from the pot she was scrubbing, she glared at the Gryffindor. "Oh, don't you find this amusing?" she snarled. Hermes frowned, confused with her sudden ire.
"Good Godric, what's wrong with you?" he asked.
She crumpled her rag and threw it as far away from her as possible. "Shut up, Granger," she snapped, sat back up the rickety table, and crossed her arms.
"Bloody mental," he murmured under his breath, not entirely sure if she had heard him or not.
They stayed like that for thirty minutes – him cleaning, her doing absolutely nothing – and Hermes thought that this was better than being at each other's throats. He'd never been this incensed with other people, even when some bullying during his younger years turned physical, but there was always something about Iris Malfoy that sparked this senseless irritation in him. Honestly, it was taxing, and he was just glad that Malfoy was keeping quiet and letting him do his own part in peace.
But then, of course, this was Iris Malfoy and she never really left him alone.
Hermes Granger fervently believed that Malfoy's sole purpose in life was to make his life a living hell.
"So," she nonchalantly started, lazily gazing at her fingertips, "have you had any success with the house-elves lately, Granger?"
"Whatever do you mean?" he asked, frowning.
Iris snorted and gave him a withering glare. "Everybody knows you're trying to free them, idiot," she said. "Loads of bullshit, if you ask me. It's even laughable how you're trying to make a cute little club for them. I heard Dumbledore shut it down."
He stilled in his cleaning and glared. "I still need to make some concrete plans and proposals before Dumbledore agrees to – "
"Save it, Granger, I don't really care."
"No, you know what, you have to care," he exclaimed, throwing his rag on the floor and climbing back on his feet. "You snooty, rich bastards would never understand because you never even cared one whit because they are not people." He curled his hands into fists, remembering how even his Gryffindor friends dismissed his crusade. "'Oh, don't you worry that silly little head of yours, Hermes, that's just their job' or 'They love what they do so don't you go disrupting what isn't even damaged'. Of course, they would love their job – they were made to believe that. That is their whole life!"
Iris slowly narrowed her eyes and jumped down from the rickety table again. "They've been serving masters even before you and I were born, Granger," she snapped. "Why are you making a big deal out of this?"
"Because, they deserved better," he grounded out. "It… it angers me that they let people order them around, mock them, makes them do things that would implicate them because… because it's their freaking job. They're being treated as slaves, and it's barbaric, and I cannot believe even the ministry cannot see the seriousness of this issue."
Iris snorted and gave him a mocking smirk. "You wouldn't understand because you're just a little mudblood, Granger," she casually said.
"Right, a mudblood," he snarled, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Do you actually believe that loads of bullshit, Malfoy?"
"Of course," she said without skipping a beat. "There are Purebloods, and Half-Bloods, and Mudbloods. That has always been the norm before your little muggle parents decided to do some shady business and steal magic from our kind so that their child could become one of us."
He gaped at her, disbelieving. "Is that what you high and mighty Purebloods think about us?" he snapped, bristling with unimaginable anger. "Do you really believe that everything I'm doing, every spell that I've done, every potion I've created, was all because I stole your magic?"
Iris glared. "Everybody knows that, Granger," she said. "It's the universal truth."
Hermes shook his head. "Do you even hear yourself, Malfoy? I cannot… I cannot believe…" He shook, raw anger radiating from his honey-coloured eyes. "You know what, believe whatever you what, Malfoy. Believe that I'm not but the mud under your designer shoes, believe that house-elves aren't oppressed, believe that you bloody Purebloods are above all else. I'm done. I'm so done trying to reason out to you that your beliefs are wrong."
He turned around and started stomping towards the door, detention be damned. He'd beg for Professor McGonagall to give him something else to do because he could not spend another hour tidying this room up with a close-minded bint.
"That's rich, Granger!" she shrieked, clambering towards him. He stopped in his steps, his back still facing the Slytherin. "You think you are above all else because of your bloody brains and your House and your stupid, stupid morals."
"YES," he bellowed, turning around to face Iris Malfoy. The girl was pink in the face, her eyes a stormy grey. "I am, I am above you because you're a racist, close-minded bigot who only knows how to primp her hair or insult other people or – "
His words died down a resounding smack echoed in the room. Hermes backpedalled due to the force of her slap with his cheek already in pain.
"Shut up, Granger," she said, voice dangerously low. "You don't know anything. Shut up."
He looked back at her, noting that her glare had turned murderous. He didn't doubt that she would resort to blasting spells if he further provoked her.
But he wasn't done. He wouldn't back down now. He wanted her to know that what she believed in was stupid and just… just plain wrong.
"You know, for the record, I really pity you, Malfoy," Hermes said, unable to stop his words from pouring. "You try so very hard to be the best in everything but still come up short."
Her hand twitched and was about to slap him again, but he anticipated it this time. Gripping her hand in place, he gave her the darkest glare he could muster and sneered. "What would your daddy dearest think you are being bested by a filthy little mudblood?"
He then pushed her hand away and turned around, striding as far away from her as possible. He knew it was stupid to turn his back away from a murderous dragon, but he refused to show her that he was weak, that he would back down all because of her stupid beliefs.
It relieved, and bothered him really, that no spell had hit him until he reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.
By then, most of his anger had dissipated. All that was left was exhaustion and, to his disgruntlement, guilt.
Maybe he went overboard. His mother used to tell him he had fantastic tempers if he really wanted to, something he unfortunately inherited from her.
The words he had told Malfoy a while ago were cruel and uncalled for. He knew he had hit a nerve when she turned murderous and… and distraught. Now that the angry haze had lifted, he recalled everything that had transpired back at the Trophy Room. The way her eyes glistened was unmistakable.
True, her beliefs were wrong and they were definitely close-minded, but he couldn't really fault her when such values were deeply ingrained into her ever since she was born. It was saddening, really, knowing that with that great intelligence of hers, she could have done something good… something great.
Maybe, her life at home wasn't exactly fine and dandy, either. Perhaps she was just terribly misguided and would need someone who could show her that there were more to things than blood statuses.
"Aren't you going to come in, dear?" the Fat Lady asked, curiously peering down at the conflicted Gryffindor student.
"Right, yes," he said, slumping down and murmuring the password.
He was thankful that most of his peers were already at bed when he came in. He didn't know what he would say when Harry and Ron bombarded him with questions about his detention with the Dragon.
As he slipped into his bed, Hermes dreaded facing Professor McGonagall the very next day and explaining his side.
Iris quickly hid behind an alcove and held her breath. Potter and Weasley passed by, identical expressions of worry on their faces as they furiously whispered with each other. She wasn't able to catch what they were talking about but that didn't matter.
As soon as they were gone, she peeked at the corridor, scanning for any other students. Satisfied that there was nobody else, she quickly stalked out of the alcove and slipped inside the Hospital Wing.
To her immense relief, Madame Pomfrey hadn't arrived yet. She overheard during dinner that the mediwitch was with Professor Sprout in the greenhouses, tending to the mandrakes that would help resolve the petrification of the victims.
She darted a quick glance at the petrified form of Colin Creevey, hands still poised to take a photograph, and the other muggleborn Hufflepuff whose name she had forgotten.
At the farthest bed from the door was the latest victim of petrification, Hermes Granger.
Iris stilled for a moment, suddenly feeling uneasy at seeing one of the most insufferable people she had ever met immobile with wide, terrified eyes.
"Look who's pitiful now, mudblood," she whispered with a frown, remembering their terrible row back at the Trophy Room. Iris knew she should have hexed him after stalking away from their fight, but she was too angry to even pull out her wand. By the time she had calmed herself down, he was long gone.
When she returned to her own common room, she promised herself she would get her revenge and give the know-it-all Gryffindor a piece of her mind. So maybe he had the upper hand during that fight, but Iris wouldn't back down just yet until he finally conceded that he was beneath her, that she surpassed him in perhaps all aspects except knowledge.
But the stupid Gryffindor had to go and get himself petrified the very next day by the unknown entity roaming around Hogwarts. Potter and Weasley were horrified; it finally dispelled the rumour that Harry Potter was doing all these because no matter how much she hated him, he knew he wouldn't do that to one of his best friends.
Admittedly, she knew even beforehand that Potter had nothing to do about the petrification. It was fun seeing him being bullied by others because of the possibility; heck, nobody had ever seen a Parselmouth since Voldemort so it was bloody suspicious.
However, ever since Mrs Norris was petrified, she remembered a specific conversation his father had with some of his acquaintances back in Malfoy Manor. She wasn't entirely sure what they were talking about, probably dull political stuff, but a specific topic piqued her attention.
"The diary has been given to the girl," her formidable father assured one of his associates. "The snake will be set free."
She didn't understand the context of those lines, but Iris knew it was significant.
After Colin Creevey was petrified next sometime last November, Iris started to investigate. She knew the Golden Trio were also trying to search for clues but their research had been futile so far. They were, after all, digging at the wrong books.
One thing she would forever be thankful for as a Malfoy was their extensive library. If Granger was to shut up for once in his life, perhaps it would be when he stepped foot in their vast library. Or when he was bloody petrified.
Iris shot another quick look at Granger again and rolled her eyes, not quite sure why she was suddenly feeling mad.
As she plopped down on one of the vacant chairs beside his bed, she recalled the dark book she always kept in the secret compartment in her trunk. She knew if her father knew she had brought Magick Moste Evile in school he would have a conniption, but it was for the best, especially for emergencies like this.
With the threat of opening the Chamber of Secrets and students getting petrified one after the other, it didn't take her long to finally find a plausible explanation. She remembered staring at the ominous sketch of a basilisk on her dark book, its yellow eyes glinting and its fangs dripping with venom. Just looking at it brought shivers down her spine, knowing that if she were to stare at the real basilisk's eyes, she would have been dead by then.
She carried the knowledge of a basilisk roaming around Hogwarts for months. She debated whether she would share this information with Crabbe and Goyle before, but finally decided not to when her so-called friends acted strangely one evening. Sharing it with Theo and Blaise, marginally better than the former, would have been a nice choice, too, but she finally decided keeping it to herself would be for the best.
It made her triumphant that she knew something that the Golden Trio didn't. She couldn't help that little twitch on her lips when Granger would lament the latest book he was reading was useless. True, they just didn't have the right book, but still. It felt good to best Granger at something.
But then, of course, said Gryffindor just had to go and let himself be petrified by the basilisk. Potter and Weasley still had no idea what kind of creature was causing havoc in their school. Of course, she wouldn't do anything about it. What was she, a bleeding Gryffindor? But if these Two Idiots couldn't solve this dilemma soon enough, students wouldn't be lucky anymore to indirectly stare at its yellow eyes and get petrified instead.
Iris refused to think that Granger would have most likely died if he hadn't seen its eyes through the mirror. Swallowing down the uneasy feeling in her heart, she firmly told herself this was only because nobody was going to kill Granger but her. She wanted to see the terror in his eyes when she finally put an end to his life.
Which was why, in a moment of temporary insanity, Iris tore the page about the basilisk from her dark book and bounded to the Hospital Wing.
She knew it would be suspicious if she outright went to Potter and Weasley and wordlessly give them that piece of paper. They were cynical enough of her anyway, and she'd rather they didn't start asking too many questions. So Granger was the next best option, despite his petrification. His other best friends kept on visiting him anyway, so they were bound to find it out sooner or later.
Grabbing a quill from her bag, she scribbled 'Pipes, idiots' on top of the scary sketch of the basilisk and crammed the parchment inside one of Granger's hand.
Her hand lingered a bit and as she stared at Granger's petrified face once more, tentatively trying to make sense of the other foreign feeling that rose into her heart when she found out he was petrified.
He was so full of himself sometimes, always sure that he was doing the right thing while radiating warmth that irritated her immensely. He was a mudblood for Merlin's sake. He was supposed to be inferior in everything, which baffled her so much why someone as lowly as him could beat her in all of the subjects.
Annoyance bubbled at the pit of her stomach, retrieving her hand this time. Granger made her very, very confused and she didn't like it one bit.
She looked at his face for the last time before leaving the Hospital Wing without saying goodbye.
"Oh, I'm sorry I wa – "
"Watch where you're going, mudblood."
Hermes' mouth clammed upon hearing Malfoy's unmistakable voice. He frowned at the mess he had made, mostly Malfoy's things, scattered all over the corridor. He sighed and immediately crouched down, neatly piling her things to pass it on to her.
"And what do you think you're doing?" she snapped, also on her knees as she hastily shoved her things inside her designer back.
"Helping you," he said, adding "Obviously" as an afterthought.
To his surprise, Malfoy merely rolled her eyes and continued gathering her things.
Truth be told, being around the Slytherin made him feel a little awkward, their fantastic row still fresh in his mind. He had debated whether he should apologise or not, but decided it would be better to keep quiet. After all, Iris seemed fond of telling him to shut up anyway.
Still, it didn't stop him from feeling some semblance of guilt every time his eyes settled on her. Not that she needed to know because ever since he was awakened from his petrification, she'd been her usual mean self so Hermes wondered if they were back to normal. Or, their relationship just grew worse.
Sighing, he knew dwelling about his hostile relationship with the Slytherin would lead him nowhere. Hermes shook his head to rid of such thoughts and grabbed onto her unrolled parchment. He gave it a brief glance and was about to hand it off to her, but paused, eyes growing a little wide.
Her penmanship looked awfully familiar and Hermes racked his brain where he had seen such refined, sophisticated handwriting before. It was startlingly feminine, as opposed to the chicken scratches Harry and Ron tend to do on their own homework. Rolling his eyes, he wondered if even bratty Purebloods like her had to undergo calligraphy lessons to perfect their handwriting. It wasn't too farfetched, really.
And then, it clicked.
It still astonished him immensely that Harry was able to figure out that the creature that had been petrifying the residents of Hogwarts was in fact a basilisk. He had come across the basilisk in his own copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, but its description was abysmal, seeing that it was a particularly dark creature and breeding one was extremely difficult. All he knew was that it was classified as XXXXX and its extremely deadly venom could only be cured by phoenix tears.
He knew he was about to identify the creature as the basilisk, he was bloody well sure of it, but his unfortunate petrification halted any further researches.
When he asked Harry how he knew the basilisk and where it was hiding, Harry looked at him strangely and told him he had this torn page of a basilisk in his hand with a scribbled note of 'Pipes, idiots' on top.
"You really should have left the 'idiots', mate," Harry had told him with a grin. "Ron and I both know that in this little trio, you're the brilliant one and we're the idiots that kept on dragging you into dangerous adventures."
Hermes had actually let this incident slide, thanking Merlin that at least all of his best friends were still alive; that he was alive.
But then, upon seeing Malfoy's neat scrawl on her homework, he finally discovered who had helped them.
Iris suddenly snatched her homework away from his limp hand. "Trying to get ideas for your Transfiguration essay now, are you, Granger?" she asked.
"I've finished that essay ages ago," he muttered distractedly.
"Of course," Iris said with a roll of her eyes. Then, grabbing her bag, she slung it across her shoulders and turned around without another word.
"Pipes, idiots?" Hermes blurted out before he could stop himself.
The way her shoulders momentarily tensed was all he needed. He couldn't stop his mouth from gaping, even after Malfoy looked over her shoulder with an indecipherable expression on her face.
"What nonsense are you blabbering about?" she snapped nonchalantly, too nonchalantly. "Maybe that Mandrake Restorative Draught hadn't reached your brain yet, Granger."
Then, she was sashaying away from him and Hermes was left staring at her back in disbelief.
A/N: Drop a review!
With love,
WickedlyAwesomeMe