Hello, everyone! How are you? šŸ˜Š We resume the story with a long chapter hahahaha! Get some popcorn, it's 53 pages in Word! šŸ˜‚ I really hope you like it...

Crabbe and Goyle! šŸ˜± Who would have thought it? It was very difficult to guess, I admit it, I haven't given any clues about it šŸ˜‚. I hope you weren't disappointed that it was them, I felt like giving them a bit of a starring role in this story šŸ™ˆ. I think most fics mention Nott, Zabini, Pansy... And actually, in canon, Draco is with these two most of the time, so I wanted to include them. It seemed realistic to me. Of course, they don't talk so much in the books so I improvised a bit their ways of being. Let me know what you think šŸ˜‚.

Draco keeps getting more and more wounded in these last few chapters, poor thing šŸ˜‚ I think it's consistent with Crabbe and Goyle's personality that they beat him up in a Muggle way, and not with wands, what do you think? And what do you think of Draco's strategy for wriggling out of the matter? He's managed to turn the whole thing around, more or less. Pretty Slytherin, don't you think? Hahahaha šŸ˜.

By the way, can we all agree that Nott is a sweetheart? Because for me he is. I adore this boy. How he cares about Draco, and at the same time tells him things straight? I love him šŸ˜.

What will happen now that Crabbe and Goyle have found out? Let's find out... I sincerely hope you liked it. I'll be happy to read your comments if you feel like leaving them šŸ˜Š.

Thanks for reading, see you in the next one, big hugs! šŸ˜Š

CHAPTER 21

Game, set and Quidditch match

The first thing Draco did as he stepped through the double doors leading into the Great Hall was to take a quick but astute glance at the Slytherin House table. His grey eyes roamed the long surface, still pacing, scanning the faces of his companions as they ate greedily. He was looking for someone in particular. As he made his way down the length of the enormous table, he caught Nott, sitting near the centre of the table. The boy was eating vegetable soup in solitude, a book resting on the bowl of potatoes in front of him for entertainment.

As he passed him, Draco gave him a subtle but firm slap on the back with the palm of his hand. Nott flinched in surprise, suddenly torn from his reading, and turned his face in time to see his friend's back turn away. Draco had not stopped, and was still moving across the table. Perhaps in another situation he would have sat with Nott, even though he usually made a point of sitting with the Quidditch team or other more influential people in public. But on this particular day he couldn't even consider it. He had other plans in mind.

Finally, his keen eyes visualised his target. Zabini was eating ribs in sauce, thankfully also in solitude, sitting on the same side of the table as the one he was walking beside. Draco was careful not to pick up his pace, and to pretend that he had taken advantage of meeting his friend to sit there and eat. He stopped beside him and sat down casually on the bench, making his way with little finesse between his roommate and the young man next to him eating. This one was forced to move away slightly, making space for him, but it didn't occur to him to reply. Not to Draco Malfoy.

"What's up?" Draco greeted in a nonchalant tone, picking up a pitcher of pumpkin juice and pouring some into the cup that had magically appeared before him, along with a plate and some cutlery. Zabini, busy poking a piece of the tender rib with his fork and spooning it into his mouth without the sauce dripping, didn't even look at him.

"Hullo," he returned the greeting, just before popping the piece of meat into his mouth.

"Are you alone? And the others?" Draco questioned lightly, then lifted the cup to his lips. His throat was dry.

"The girls are over there," Zabini reported as he chewed, pointing with his thumb a few seats over, to the area closest to the teachers. Draco then spotted Pansy and Daphne, sitting together, eating as they chatted while making great gestures. He thought he heard Pansy's loud laughter above the chatter around him. "And the team aren't eating today; I don't know what they're doing."

Draco made a nonchalant grimace, keeping his face haughty.

"Not training, of course, I would have been warned. They must have brought something back from Hogsmeade, from the last trip. Something not too legal," he let out a half-smile. "As long as they don't go overboard with the Firewhisky like last timeā€¦ It was embarrassing. They had to take Bletchley to the Hospital."

Blaise grinned with amusement as well, taking another mouthful of meat.

"I remember," he admitted, chewing elegantly, looking straight ahead as if conjuring up the moment. "What a bunch of morons."

"I tell ya," Draco agreed smugly. He moistened his lips, and added, in as nonchalant a tone as he could muster, "Speaking of morons, have you seen Crabbe and Goyle?"

Draco's eyes flicked to his partner's profile, watching for any gestures at the mention of the boys. Zabini didn't flinch in the slightest, though Draco could tell he was beginning to chew more slowly. That made the saliva feel thicker in his mouth.

"Neither. They'll be with the rest of the team," Blaise guessed, his tone neutral. His dark eyes were fixed on his plate, not bothering to look at Draco. "Why?" he added with a hint of brusqueness.

"No reason," Draco said resolutely. Rejoicing at how natural it sounded. He snorted, theatrically, as he helped himself to a ration of ribs as well. "On the contrary, I'm glad to hear it. They've been such a pain to be with lately. They wear me out, really..." he added heavily.

"Why's that?" Blaise questioned, his tone clearly harsher. Draco tried to take a deep, stealthy breath. He sensed that, as he had feared, he was going to have to use all his wits to get out of this quagmire.

"They're being most unbearable," Draco mumbled, his tone condescending. "You've noticed their attitude lately, haven't you?" At his partner's confused silence, and his slightly furrowed brow, Draco pretended to look discreetly around, his gesture finally catching Blaise's gaze. Draco lowered his voice a bit, "Haven't you noticed that they're more paranoid than ever?"

"Paranoid?" repeated Zabini, his full attention now focused on his friend. His face was still serene, if a little more alert.

"Yes, y'know... Paranoids about the whole purity of blood thing. Damn, you know I'm the first to be careful with those things, and I make sure I'm clear on people's blood status before getting into a relationship of any kindā€¦ But theirs is already an exaggeration. They see traitors everywhere. It's exhausting." Draco pretended to be exasperated, and helped himself to some jacket potatoes with parsimony. Zabini had stopped eating.

"Really?" the boy questioned, his tone a little lower. "And why do you think that is?"

Draco sighed smugly. As if he knew something his listener was unaware of.

"I can imagine... and I'm sure you can too." He gave his friend a knowingly look, taking care to praise his intelligence subtly. Blaise's haughty face turned pale without being able to help it. Understanding what his friend was referring to.

"Do you think it has something to do withā€¦ him?" He didn't specify, but Draco understood the reference to the Dark Lord perfectly, judging by the glint of fear in his arrogant eyes. "They're going toā€¦?"

"Well, yes," Draco confessed, sighing again smugly, pretending it wasn't a subject he cared to bring up. Pretending to be self-assured. "I'm pretty sure they will. His parents are there, they are on his side. They want to go down that path, and possibly will soon. As you say, it's possible that it's one of the reasons for their paranoia. They will want toā€¦ please him. Haven't they come to you with any accusations yet?" he asked carefully, looking at him with feigned curiosity.

"Accusations?" Zabini repeated, puzzled.

"Montague, for example. They think he's a blood traitor." Draco gave a scathing laugh. He popped a potato into his mouth, though he wasn't the least bit hungry and wasn't sure he'd be able to swallow it. "Crabbe and Goyle say they've seen him hanging around with a Mudblood. That's why lately they don't go to training so much lately, they don't want to hang out with him. They have no remedy. I mean, please... Montague?" He pretend to be subtly shocked at his own lie, indicating how improbable it seemed to him. "It's absurd to think that he can relate to that rabble. And last week they said something similar about Bulstrode... Personally, I don't give it much credit either. Every day is a different one. It's ridiculous." He let out another resigned laugh, his mouth closed in a half-smile. Zabini pursed his lips, returning the knowing smile.

"Fuck, those two... Well, yes, since you mention it... I've actually been told something similar," he confessed, looking at Draco with uncomfortable fixity. As if studying him. The young blond put all his willpower into pretending to be interested and almost amused. Luckily, no one could beat him at hiding his true emotions.

"Really? Oh, c'mon, who this time? I want to have a good laugh..."

"I don't know if you're going to laugh, but I heard something about you yesterday. That you'd been seen with a Mudblood. I think they said that Granger girl, Potter's arse-licker. I didn't have much time to listen to them and I left them in mid-sentence, but the truth is that I was somewhat surprised. I was thinking of asking them later."

Draco arched his blond eyebrows as much as he could in disbelief. The potato was still swirling around in his mouth.

"Me? Oh, come on, for fuck's sake," he set his fork down with a theatrical gesture on the table. He pretended to be frustrated and resigned, with a hint of annoyance, as if he'd been let down. "Have they reached that limit...? And who did they say they've seen me with? Granger? The one from Gryffindor?" he narrowed his grey eyes in contempt. "Oh, please, yuck. Wasn't there another less disgusting Mudblood?" He shook his head in exasperation and raised the glass of juice to his lips in a vain attempt to swallow the tubercle. "They worry me. They are reaching the limit..." he added later, with resignation. He pretended not to care too much, forcing himself not to even look at his companion, and picked up his knife and fork to help himself to more potatoes, even though his plate was full.

"It's really worrying," Zabini admitted thoughtfully. He had turned his attention back to his own ribs. He looked disgruntled, but composed. "I knew they weren't two eggheads, but they're pushing the limits of stupidity. If they continue like this, they can get a lot of people in trouble. Not everyone is as obviously averse to Mudbloods as you and I are. People may believe them if they accuse someone more faint-hearted, or someone who hasn't spoken out clearly against the rabble."

The potato went down Draco's throat, at last.

"You bet they will," he sighed, pessimistically. Though his insides had gone into a conga dance. "Indeed, if there's anyone who won't be affected by that rumour, it's me. I think I've made my opinion on Mudbloods pretty clear," he added jokingly, as freely as he could muster, almost sarcastically. Zabini smirked arrogantly, agreeing with him. "Besides, they can get themselves into a lot of trouble if they continue like this. They can piss people off. Not everyone has to take something like that as a joke, they can seriously piss someone off... But, anyway, I guess they'll get over it. I hope so," he chuckled. "But they better don't start shooting their mouths off, damn, they're giving me a hell of a reputation. Pair of brainless twits..."

Zabini lifted the corners of his thick lips in amusement.

"I don't think they've been telling it around. I'd be calm if I were you. They told me that they had something crazy to tell me. From the way they say it, they considered it a 'secret', and they were only going to tell me about it," he laughed through his nose, now amused to find the gossip so absurd.

Draco managed to fully inflate his lungs. One less problem.

"They'd better. If not, I'll be forced to put them in their place," he said nonchalantly, popping another potato into his mouth, not looking at his friend. Pretending not to care any more about the conversation, thus ending it.

The Clock Tower, silent and imposing, stood as one of the tallest buildings in the castle. Hidden inside were the gigantic old gears that gave life to the great clock, which could be seen from the Paved Courtyard. A railing barely two meters long faced the outside, granting whoever climbed up there a beautiful view of the grounds surrounding the castle. At that moment, a soft mist blurred the landscape, and the amber rays of sunlight gave it a golden hue. The sun was slowly setting behind the mountains that surrounded Hogwarts, and light was streaming through the tall windows and the glass clock face, illuminating the dark, wooden and stone walls of the tower. The great pendulum swung slowly from side to side, several metres below the railing.

A figure, tiny in comparison to the structure, with its arms resting on the tower's railing, was the only thing that marred the quiet scene. Draco needed to get up there. His body was crying out for something to distract himself with, even if it was a landscape, so that he could disconnect for a while from his perennial worries. Besides, he wanted to make time until his roommates went to bed; he did not want to be in the company of Crabbe and Goyle any more than was strictly necessary. He had been, since the day of the fight, avoiding being in their presence at all costs, and, to his own relief, their relationship as roommates was being almost idyllic given the situation. They hadn't exchanged a single word all week. They treated him as if he didn't exist, and he wasn't sure how much that relieved or unsettled him. He didn't know what to expect from all this, but he didn't dare alter the situation, for fear of making it worse. Luckily, both Nott and Zabini were aware of what had happened among their other roommates ā€” each one knowing a different version, none of them one hundred per cent real ā€” and they did not find the situation strange.

All week, falling asleep had been a difficult experience for Draco. It wasn't until he heard the snoring of his companions that he allowed himself to close his eyes. And in the morning he would wake up with a start, giving himself a few seconds to realise that he was safe and sound, and they had not ended his life in his sleep. Which was absolutely frustrating and humiliating. And it made him hate those two morons with all his might. And to start his days in a foul mood.

He looked at the distant mountains, as he realised how tired he felt. In all aspects.

He didn't want the next day to come. He wanted to stay in that tower and in that stillness forever. His simple, comfortable, and carefree life had taken a one hundred and eighty-degree turn. Since his father's imprisonment, his entire world had slowly been turned upside down. Worst of all, he knew he would never be able to lead a peaceful life again. Everything kept getting more and more complicated. And he was the main culprit. There was nothing he could do about the Dark Lord's presence in his home, and nothing he could do about the Dark Mark that would soon rest on his forearm, whether his mother liked the idea or not. Both of those things would alter his life completely sooner or later, but he was already half aware of that. But there were things that he could have avoided. That he could have done better. And he'd done it in the worst possible way.

The whole thing with Granger had spun out of control in a way that Draco could barely take in. And he couldn't help but wonder how he'd let the situation get so out of hand. How could he have done it all so fucking wrong.

Why he had done everything he had done.

He didn't understand how that simple girl could barge into his life and unsettle it in such a cruel way. It wasn't fair.

As if his relationship with her wasn't complicated enough on its own, Crabbe and Goyle had arrived to tangle everything up even more. If the two of them, despite having been convinced of their lack of credibility, told the other students what they'd seen, and they actually believed them, Draco's life could go to hell. And, if his classmates found out, it was not unreasonable to think that the rumour could reach his parents' ears, from the mouths of other parents. Draco felt faint just thinking about that possibility. Lucius was in Azkaban, so he wasn't an imminent dangerā€¦ But his mother was. He didn't even want to think about how she would react if she found out about something like that. He couldn't see the rejection and disappointment in her eyes. He couldn't.

Draco sighed to himself and buried his face in his arms, leaning against the railing. He'd gone up there with the intention of distracting himself, and all he'd achieved was to think more about everything. And now he couldn't stop. Dammit.

He had fixed the 'Zabini problem', or so he thought. And so was Nott's, at least for now. Neither of them knew what had happened between him and Granger. But there were so many more things that could go wrong in the near future. What if the Gryffindors found out what had happened? How would Potter and Weasley react to finding out that their faithful little friend was snogging around with their enemy? Granger would definitely be in serious trouble. He didn't think their friendship, no matter how strong they presumed it to be, could bear something like that. Even so, he felt not pity, but a surge of resentment towards Granger... She was also responsible for what had happened, she was the real culprit, and yet, right now she would be so calm, oblivious to everything... And he was the one who was in deep shit. And all because he himself hadn't wanted to tell her anything. He had no right to complain, and yet it was all he wanted to do. The only thing that made him feel better. Damn, it was all so unfair...

"How could I have gotten myself into this nonsense?" he thought, full of resentment towards himself. "How could I have been so stupid as to let my life go to shit because of Hermione Granger?"

"Am I disturbing you?"

Draco straightened up and turned his face, startled; he had thought he was alone up there. Pansy Parkinson was a few metres behind him, standing by the clockwork, her hands behind her back, smiling amiably at him. The skirt of her uniform, like her short black hair, fluttered slightly from the wind at that height, blowing through the windows and openings of the tower.

The boy felt his heart racing, bouncing against his ribs. His eyes quickly assessed the situation, appraising his friend's delicate smile, and he felt the world sparkle again. He'd been looking for her all afternoon, until it was time to leave for detention with McGonagall, wanting to talk to her alone to make sure that Crabbe and Goyle hadn't told her anything. Like he had done with Zabini. But there had been no way to find her that day. He'd seen her during lessons, but they hadn't sat together in any of the ones they'd had those days, and they hadn't happened to be alone anywhere, not even in the Great Hall. Draco had forced himself to think that, if Crabbe and Goyle had told her anything, Pansy would have gone to talk to him immediately to clear it up. But he'd wanted to make sure, to not leave anything to fate.

And now there they were, and the boy, lethargic in the stillness of the tower, wasn't sure he could face the conversation properly. Despite having been preparing his strategy all day ā€” a strategy similar to the one he had used with Blaise, in case she had actually been told ā€” his friend had caught him off guard.

But he forced himself to focus every neuron in his brain on the conversation. Too much was at stake.

"No, of course not," Draco replied, trying to speak in a normal tone. Still, he was staring at her, gauging her attitude. "I was looking for you earlier. How did you find me?"

"I know, Nott just told me you were looking for me. And he also told me you were here. He saw you coming up the stairs a while ago."

"That snitching moron..." he muttered, with fake annoyance, smirking contemptuously.

The girl's smile widened and moved closer to him, leaning against the railing beside him. Draco allowed himself to breathe more slowly. So far, everything seemed to be going well. Pansy looked composed; there was no accusation in her eyes. She didn't seem to have changed her attitude towards him.

Crabbe and Goyle hadn't told her anything.

"I've been in the room with Daphne all afternoon," the girl revealed, apparently trying to make conversation. "We haven't done much, I admit. Chatting, and reading a magazine. Last week's issue of Witch Weekly. I'll have to catch up with my homework tomorrow," she laughed mournfully, pretending to be angry with herself. Draco gave her a subtle, distracted smile in return. "What did you want from me, why were you looking for me?" she questioned afterwards, looking at him with amiable curiosity.

"Nothing special, just to spend some time with you," the boy lied, without looking at her, trying to put a reluctance tone into his voice. "In case you wanted to study together. We've hardly seen each other for days."

Pansy seemed to swell with emotion, though he didn't see it.

"It's true, I'm sorry. We can go tomorrow, after the match. Or Sunday," she proposed, a slight tremor in her voice that revealed how much she liked his proposal. He nodded, undefined, and without noticing her excited expression. "Is everything alright? What are you doing up here, alone?" the young woman then questioned, slightly erasing her smile and looking at him with a little more concern.

"No big deal," he stated, disinterestedly. "Just resting my mind a little."

"Are you worried about something?" asked the girl, wiping away the smile altogether.

"Worried, me? Of course not, why would I be?" the blond replied, absently fingering the hem of his sleeve so he wouldn't have to look at her. Pansy smiled again, this time sadly.

"You're a bad liar."

"I'm an excellent liar. What makes you think I'm worried about anything?"

"You don't like being alone. But, if you've come up here, it's because you didn't want company. I suppose you wanted to think," Pansy explained, arching both eyebrows apologetically. "And if you want to think about something, alone, it's because you're worried about it. We've been friends for so many years, I know you very well."

Draco held back a snort.

"Even though we're friends, I've been rather neglecting you lately; you should be angry with me," Draco said, trying to change the subject, looking at her with an arched eyebrow.

"I know you're a busy man," Pansy excused him, smiling with amusement. "I don't blame you. I heard you hit Warrington, and McGonagall has grounded you. What happened to you?"

Draco looked away, returning his gaze to the front. He scanned the landscape with his light eyes, unhurriedly, before answering in a dry whisper:

"I heard things I didn't like. And I got pissed off. That was it."

"Ignoring him or passing by isn't your thing, huh?" the young woman joked, trying to lighten the seriousness of her friend's face. "Better a Muggle-style pitched battle. I can't blame you either, I don't like Warrington much. He's a prick."

Draco gave an imperceptible smile, looking at her knowingly. She smiled back. He reached up and absently brushed back a strand of her friend's short, black hair that had been blown by the wind, causing her to smile even wider at the touch. The boy felt a wave of bitterness wash over him. How would Pansy react if she found out that he had kissed Granger? She would hate him, no doubt about it. She would disown him utterlyā€¦ He wasn't prepared to see disgust and disappointment in his friend's dark eyes, which had gazed adoringly at him for so many years. He wasn't prepared to give her up. Pansy couldn't find out, no way.

"Have you done something to your hair?" the blond muttered, frowning, struggling to pull himself out of his depressing thoughts. Something in the set that formed her face and hair, now that he looked at it, did not fit.

"I cut it quite a bit at Christmas," the girl revealed, fiddling with the ends of her hair. She let out a giggle at her friend's astonished face. "And now I have a longer bang."

"Fuck. I think I've abandoned you more than I thought," he looked straight ahead, incredulous of himself. Bewildered at how much his problems with Granger had kept him from reality. From his everyday life.

"It doesn't matter. It's not too noticeable anymore, it's grown," the brunette assured him, amused, still looking at his serious profile. "I know you've got a lot on your mind..." she wiped her smile and seemed to hesitate before adding, this time seriously, "He's still... He's still in your house?"

Draco breathed in and out slowly, taking time to think of what to say. Pansy was one of the few people, whose family had nothing to do with Voldemort, who knew that the dark wizard was hiding in his house. Nott, as well as Crabbe and Goyle, knew because their parents were Death Eaters. In Nott's case, as well as being his best friend, he knew it because the boy had been living at Malfoy Manor for the past two years. Zabini, despite knowing that his mates supported the Dark Lord's ideas, had no idea of his location. Much less those of the Quidditch team. He had told Pansy himself, in a show of cockiness, over a year ago. He had always trusted her, more than many other people.

He surprised himself by remembering the vanity with which he had told her, how smug he had felt at the news that the Dark Lord had chosen precisely his home as his refuge. The satisfaction he had felt at the look full of fear and admiration Pansy had given him then. So much had changed in two years...

"Aha," he finished, without looking at her, trying to sound calm. "He's there right now. I do not know for how long. I don't know if he's planning to look for another shelter. They continue to have it enabled as a kind of Headquarters. They come and go as they please. Discreetly, of course."

"How is your mother?" Pansy wanted to know, cautiously.

"I think she is fine," he murmured, controlling his voice as best he could to show his composure. "She writes to me often, and tells me everything's fine. She doesn't give me any details, of course, in case they check the mail. But I think she is fine."

Pansy smiled, with visible relief on her small face, partially covered by her straight black bangs.

"I'm glad to hear it." She hesitated for a moment, as if she didn't quite know what words to use, but ended up questioning awkwardly, "You were going to... Are you already a...?"

"Not yet," he hastened to say, understanding her hesitation. He felt the need to state emphatically that he was not yet one of them. That he was not yet, irrevocably, and forever, one of Lord Voldemort's Death Eaters. "I was going to do it at Christmas, but things got complicated. It won't be long, though, they want me in their ranks soon. I have toā€¦ do it," he justified himself, though she hadn't said anything. "I want to do it. I want to make the wizarding world a better place. To restore the purity of the magical race. And this is the only way."

Pansy watched him as he spoke, a mixture of devotion and apprehension in her dark, longing eyes. Gazing at his sharp profile as if it were the most impressive thing she had ever seen.

"You're very brave," Pansy assured, her voice turning emotional. "I wouldn't be able to do such a thing. I believe in the cause, you know, butā€¦ I dare not go to war. I couldn'tā€¦ be a soldier. I lack the courage for something like that."

Draco looked at her then, meeting her eyes turned up at him, full of fascination. Staring at him as if he was a hero.

The boy felt his chest tighten. He begged with all his might for Granger's face not to appear in his mind, but his brain was unwilling to oblige. Even though Pansy was one of the few people who managed to make him feel like a hero, he didn't think he deserved it at that moment. Not after what was happening with Granger. Not after feeling like a fraud.

Not after succumbing to a Mudblood.

"You are a filthy hypocritical coward, a weak Muggle's fanatic. A liar and a traitor. Traitor to your blood, to your family, and the shame of Slytherin House. It's sad that you've stooped so low as to relate to a Mudbloodā€¦ I admit that I didn't think you were capable. You had me very well fooled... You disgust me."

He felt Pansy's hand rest gently on his chin, pulling him out of his thoughts, out of the memory of his argument with Crabbe and Goyle. Startling him slightly. For a moment, the promise of a kiss from his friend slipped into his subconscious, just for a second; but that sudden thought managed to shrink his stomach. And not in a pleasant way. But nothing could be further from the truth, he realised a moment later. Suddenly, the girl's eyes looked uneasy. She turned his face with her fingers, trying to see the profile that was hidden from her eyes. She let out an affected gasp.

Draco turned his face away again so that Pansy would no longer look at the small wounds that were still visible on his face after Crabbe and Goyle's blows. He had managed to heal most of them with Murtlap Essence, but, even several days later, some marks were still visible. He had refused to go to the Hospital, and the potions in their room's medicine cabinet hadn't been enough.

"It's nothing..." the boy assured, in the most serene and petulant tone he could find inside himself. Quickly searching his mind for an excuse, unable to focus on finding a coherent one.

"Warrington did that to you?" the girl muttered, looking at him fearfully. It took Draco a couple of seconds to take it in. He was surprised to realise that the fight with his partner was a more than adequate alibi.

"Yes," Draco admitted wryly. "But I left him even worse. Don't worry about it."

"When you tell me not to worry is when I worry the most," she said softly. "You get into too much trouble lately. I'm not just talking about Warringtonā€¦ You're always grounded. I'm worried about you," she added, putting a hand on his forearm and squeezing it.

Draco let out a long sigh. A gust of treacherous wind ruffled their hair.

"I'm fine," Draco said in a whisper, looking blankly at the girl's hand that remained resting on his arm. "It doesn't make much sense for me to cram this year. I don't need good marks for the future ahead of me, graduating is enough for me. I just goof around with the team. It's no big deal."

"Why did you come up here?" the young woman questioned again, in a lower, more cautious voice.

"I'm nervous about tomorrow's match, that's all," he improvised earnestly. Crabbe and Goyle's threat about the match sent a shiver down his legs, but he continued as if nothing had happened, "In the match against Gryffindor I screwed up, and the team went ballistic. I don't want to be the cause of our loss again."

"You're going to do great, you'll see," Pansy encouraged him, leaning closer. She grabbed his arm, both of them leaning against the cold railing. "You're a great Seeker. The best."

"No better than bloody Saint Potter," Draco replied in a harsh whisper, staring at the landscape without seeing it. Pansy's face contorted into a grimace of pain at the bitterness in her friend's voice. She shook her head, showing that she disagreed with his words, making her short hair toss, and rested her head on the blond's shoulder.

Draco dropped his eyelids, and had to restrain the urge to tilt his head to the side, to let it rest on top of his friend's. But the feeling of disloyalty to her that still lingered inside him prevented him from doing so. He couldn't let anyone know what he had done. He didn't want to give up on Pansy. He didn't want to give up the life he had always led. He didn't want his life to change. If only he could go back in time...

If only he could avoid making the same mistakes about Hermione Granger.

After allowing himself to enjoy physical contact with his friend for several seconds, Draco broke the closeness. He stepped away from the girl, undoing their small embrace. Pansy looked at him expectantly.

"I'm tired," Draco justified himself in a rough voice. "I am going to my room. I'll try to sleep."

It was a lie. It was still early, and Crabbe and Goyle would still be awake. He didn't plan to go until they were asleep.

"I'll stay here for a while, I'm not sleepy," replied the brunette, with a hoarse voice, looking straight ahead. "G'night. See you tomorrow, at the match."

He didn't answer. Pansy heard Draco's footsteps walking away, as she tried to contain the trembling of her lips. She turned in time to see him walk down the stairs of the tower, leaving her alone. Draco's hair seemed to move in the wind more than anyone else's, and his gait seemed more graceful than the most aristocratic duke. At least that's how Pansy felt.

"You are better than Potter," Pansy whispered into the wind, her voice unsteady. "You are to me."

"Well, I'm convinced that Ravenclaw will win," Ron was saying, not giving up. "Davies made a very good choice with Chambers and Burrow. Slytherin's Chasers have no chance..."

"I don't know what to tell you," Harry replied, tapping the cushion pressed against his stomach rhythmically. "Montague has improved his team a lot tooā€¦ They train hard. They beat Hufflepuff 340-160. If those don't get a lucky break, they'll be at the bottom of the rankings."

"Bah, the Hufflepuff team is very weak this year. That doesn't mean Slytherin is going to win," the redheaded boy growled, shifting sideways in the Common Room chair so that his legs were dangling over the armrest. Harry, Hermione, Ginny and he were sitting in armchairs by the fire in the fireplace, and Neville was busy studying at a nearby table. Crookshanks had curled himself into a cinnamon-coloured ball on the carpet in the warmth of the fire. They were the only members of Gryffindor left in the Common Room that Friday; everyone else had already gone to bed. Or to continue their conversations in the dormitories. It was almost midnight.

"Does anyone know who the new commentator will be in the end?" Harry asked, curious.

"Is there going to be a new commentator?" Hermione repeated, confused. She was settled in another armchair, a plaid blanket draped over her cramped legs. Slightly drowsy at that hour, after the exhaustion of the whole week. "Why? What's wrong with Justin?"

"Haven't you heard?" Ginny asked, tilting her face to look at her in surprise. She was sitting in the same seat as Hermione, curled up next to her. Fortunately, the young Weasley had always been a girl of small proportions, and both friends fit relatively comfortably in the one-seater armchair. "Justin was in the Hospital for a couple of days because, at the end of the last match, Bletchley crashed into the commentator's platform and gave him a few injuries."

"You're kidding!" Hermione was astonished, her eyes widening. "I didn't know anything..."

"I didn't know either," Harry admitted. Crookshanks jumped onto his lap unexpectedly, catching him by surprise and making him mute at the unexpected gesture. However, when his friend's pet curled up on him, he began to pet him absentmindedly and resumed the conversation, "Summerby, the Hufflepuff Seeker, told me about it the next day..."

"Yeah, he told me about it too, in Herbology class. It happened right next to him," Ginny corroborated, shrugging. "And now, Justin, even though he's recovered, is afraid to comment again because he's afraid they'll do the same thing to him. He suspects it was on purpose. So he has resigned."

"Normal," admitted Ron, who had lazily raised his wand and was hoisting the cushion Harry had been holding in his lap into the air. "And do you know who's replacing him, then?"

"I can't promise anything, but it might be Luna," Ginny confessed with a giggle, following the cushion's random path above their heads. "At least I know she tried out. But I don't know if she's been chosen or not, she hasn't told me."

"Are you going to sleep, Neville?" Hermione asked suddenly, seeing her partner get up from the table with a dejected look on his face, after collecting all his utensils. His friends also looked at him.

"Yes," the boy admitted, depressedly, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "I give up for today, the essay for Professor Snape on Necromancy is going to take me all weekend... I didn't want to spend it studying, but anyway... I'll continue tomorrow."

"I'll help you tomorrow, don't worry! I'll leave you some very useful books!" Hermione assured him, raising her voice solicitously, as he was already walking up the steps to the dormitories, looking defeated. Neville turned his face over his shoulder and gave her a grateful look and a thumbs-up nod of agreement.

"You never offer to help me so enthusiasticallyā€¦" Ron protested through his teeth, spinning the cushion in the air more quickly.

"Because you, unlike Neville, don't put any effort into your work," Hermione scolded him, narrowing her round eyes. Ron gave her a resentful look, but could no longer defend himself, thus admitting that she was right.

"Neville left just in time for Lupin to arrive. I was beginning to think they would coincide," Ginny interjected, looking at her wristwatch, interrupting her two friends' discussion. Then she looked at Harry, her expression curious, "Why did you choose to keep this from Neville? Don't you think he'd want to talk to Remus too? He'sā€¦ one of ours. He's reliable."

Harry seemed to hesitate about what to say, but he didn't look apologetic. In fact, he looked a little sorrowful.

"Of course I trust Neville. I'd trust him with my life. That's not why I didn't want to tell him that we were going to talk to Remus. The thing is ā€”" he hesitated, not quite sure how to phrase what was going through his mind, "ā€” that I don't want to bring him into this war if I can help it. I don't want to put him in danger."

"I never thought I'd say this," Ron replied, raising both eyebrows, "but Neville can take care of himself. And I think he'll go into this war on his own as soon as he gets the chance."

"I don't want him to be associated with me," Harry clarified, swallowing hard. "I don't want Voldemort and his people to associate him with me. If he fights, let it be for himself, not for me."

"Harry, they know he went to the Department of Mysteries with you," Hermione pointed out softly. "It is very likely that they've already associated him with youā€¦"

"I know, and that's why I don't want anything like that to happen again," Harry snapped more firmly. "Bellatrixā€¦ Bellatrix knows where his parents are. She knows they're in St. Mungo's, she knows about their mental stateā€¦ She can hurt them. She can try to hurt me through Neville. I don't want to endanger his parents in any way."

His friends looked at him carefully, now silent, all reflecting on the same thing. Regretting the situation, surprised at the big heart that Harry, once again, showed. Grateful at how much he always thought of everyone.

"Remus!" Hermione exclaimed suddenly, straightening up. The cushion Ron held aloft fell to the carpet with a barely audible thud.

Remus Lupin's head was, in fact, suddenly inside the fireplace, surrounded by flames licking at it. The man, who seemed to be tired, and even more grizzled and wrinkled than the last time they had seen him, smiled nonetheless as he watched them. The youngsters left their seats and knelt down on the floor to be closer to him. Harry managed to get Crookshanks to stay on the seat, and not move to touch Remus's face, as he seemed to be anxiously trying to do.

"Hello, kids," the man greeted as everyone settled in. "I got a little ahead of myself, I hope I didn't cause you any troubleā€¦ I didn't know whether or not to warn you of my presence in case there was still someone in the Common Room. I can't see much from down here."

"You're just in time, we're alone," Harry assured, smirking. His heart had begun to pound in his chest. He'd been looking forward to this conversation for weeks, and now he wasn't even sure where to start.

"Remus, tell us," Ron asked, earnestly, thankfully taking the reins of the conversation, "What's going on? We only have the information that the Daily Prophet dares to publish. We don't know if it's real, or if they're avoiding talking about things. Although we suspect that's the case," he looked at his friends, looking for support. They all nodded in agreement. "They report some mishaps, but very few. The only relevant thing lately is the kidnapping of that girl from Beauxbatons..."

"And the Minister for Magic thing that was published in The Quibbler," Hermione pointed out in a lower voice.

"Yes, that's right. But apart from that, there's hardly any news from You-Know-Who. Is everything really that calm?" Ron finished, hesitantly.

"Wellā€¦" the werewolf sighed, then gave himself a few seconds to collect his thoughts. "To be honest, we're at a bit of a loss ourselves. Voldemort is behaving strangely, still acting from the shadows, which makes us think that he is not yet strong enough to openly confront the wizarding world. His return being confirmed, in the Department of Mysteries, was a mistake he had not foreseen. And now, we suspect, he's trying to make everyone 'forget' about him. Let the magical community believe he's not a threat, and then, when he's ready, attack with his full potential.

"And yet he has made more mistakes," Hermione pointed out again. "About the French girl..."

"Is Voldemort behind?" Harry asked instantly. "Do you know for sure?"

Remus sighed again.

"No, we don't know, I'm not going to lie to you. Kidnapping is always a strange and difficult thing to explain in the wizarding world..."

"I told you," Ron said softly, almost depressed.

"And who is it going to be, then, if it wasn't Voldemort?" Harry snapped, puzzled. "He's already shown that he's planning something by attacking that former Minister for Magic. That was clearly him," he added, as if daring the man to contradict him.

"Is Mrs. Bagnold all right?" Hermione interjected cautiously. Remus nodded.

"We've placed surveillance on her house twenty-four hours a day, and all sorts of protective spells. And yes, as you say, Harry, the Death Eaters were behind it. Therefore, we suspect that the kidnapping of this young woman is also their doing. "

"But why?" Ginny replied, narrowing her eyes in confusion. "What does He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named intend to do with that girl? Why kidnap her and not some more influential wizard? What's so special about her?"

"Is it known if her family has been blackmailed?" Ron questioned, shrugging. He was a little pale at the constant mentions of Voldemort's name, which made him and his little sister shudder uncontrollably.

"No, they haven't," Remus assured, looking at the carpet thoughtfully. "As the kidnapping took place here in England, the Ministry of Magic is in contact with the girl's family in France. Tonks often informs us of the developments, she's one of the case managers, fortunately. So the Order has first-hand information. And so far nothing is known. The Daily Prophet's version is correct, and that is all we know."

"That family must be important to You-Know-Who for some reason," Ginny said thoughtfully. "It is the only explanation."

"Could she be related in any way to the attack on the Minister?" Ron added, as if he had just thought of it.

"They're not," Hermione denied firmly, "I've done all the research I can on this girl. She's just a student, a witch, with wizard parents. That's all, she's just an ordinary girl. There's hardly any information about her, she's not famous. And I haven't found the slightest connection between her disappearance and the attack on the former Minister for Magic. Both the attack and the kidnapping were carried out in very different places. There was nothing in common between them, nothing significant. No pattern. And they are too different people to have a bond of any kind."

Lupine smiled warmly at the young woman. His tired eyes shining with pride.

"We've looked for any possible connection too, Hermione, but, indeed, there is none that we've seen. Voldemort is being very careful. There is no way to pre-empt his actions. We don't know what they're up to with them, whether there's a purpose or they just want to show us that they can do it."

"What is the Order doing, then?" Hermione asked gently.

"We can only try to recruit to our side and offer protection to all the people we think Voldemort could use. Like the former Minister. As well as monitoring locations susceptible to any kind of attack by Voldemort or his Death Eaters..."

"Remus, how many members does the Order have now?" Harry asked sharply, interjecting for the first time in a long time.

"That's a confidential matter," the man replied, surprised. "I don't think it's safe to say it here. But I assure you that there are enough of us, even if we don't defeat Voldemort, to keep him at bay. Why do you ask, Harry?"

"I want to join the Order of the Phoenix, and I want to do it now," Harry said firmly. "I want to get out of here and help where I can. I mean it," he added, hearing his friends' gasps of surprise. It was the first news they had heard about it. "I don't want to stay at Hogwarts knowing that there is a war that could break out at any moment. I don't want to sit here waiting for Voldemort to make the first move to kill us all. I'm sick of standing on the sidelines; I want to be useful. I want to fight and do everything in my power to stand up to him."

"Harry, you can't do thatā€¦" Hermione whispered, concerned.

"What, drop out of school? There are more important things than that, Hermione," he added hotly. "I am an adult, I want to fight Voldemort, and the only way I know of is to join the Order." He looked at Remus with determination. He looked at Harry silently, almost pityingly, not at all impressed. "Do you think I'm crazy for wanting to drop out of school and join the Order?" Harry asked, defiantly, at his silence and his stare.

"No, I think you're just like James," Remus admitted, suddenly breaking into a smile, with visible difficulty. "He wouldn't have stood idly by either... Of course you can join the Order, but only when the year is over. Until then you must stay at Hogwarts, with Dumbledore. It's the best and safest thing for you. You're famous, Harry, even if you don't like to admit it. How will people react if the famous Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, drops out in the middle of the year? The students will talk, maybe even the newspapers will echo, and the information will reach Voldemort's ears. Now he knows he can't touch you, that you're under Dumbledore's protection. But, if you get out of there, he will look for you..."

"But that'sā€¦"

"Unfair? Harry, people are dying, innocent people who have nothing to do with Voldemort," Remus replied, looking at him sternly. "You are a vital person to him, I don't think I need to tell you that. That's why you must remain under Dumbledore's watch, he can keep you safe. I can't force you, but I beg and strongly recommend it. And so does Dumbledore, I assure you."

"Hey!" Ron exclaimed angrily. "Harry's not the only one who wants to help, I want to join the Order too! I'm not someone important to You-Know-Who, I can join right now!"

"Ron, I'm telling you the same thing I'm telling Harry, you must stay at Hogwarts for your own safety," Lupin replied, shaking his head patiently. "You're his friend; and, though we don't like to admit it, you're in danger for it, too."

"Maybe You-Know-Who doesn't know that Harry and I ā€” !"

"He does, Ron. And if he doesn't know, he'll find out soon enough, you can be sure of that," Remus stated with conviction. Ron felt silent, with obvious difficulty. "I heard what you were saying about Neville just as I arrived. It applies to all of you. You have to be aware that you are all associated with Harry since that moment. Since the Battle of the Department of Mysteries. And that can no longer be changed."

"Okay, but, when the year is over, that'll be irrelevant, right? We can join the Order! Hide if we have to, but help!" Ginny snapped, raising her voice. She looked at Hermione, who hadn't spoken yet, and who nodded then, confirming that she wanted to do it too.

"I'm afraid to tell you that you'd be too young to join, Ginny, even after the school term is over," Remus said softly, apparently knowing the reaction he would provoke. "You're not even of age. We can't allow you to take such a risk."

"That's not fair!" the young red-haired girl protested, outraged. "I want to fight too! And I'm a great witch, I am very capable! It's my decision to take the risk!"

"I don't doubt that you're capable. But enthusiasm is not enough, we are at war. Even more skilled wizards with the experience of a past war, the First Wizarding War, are dying before us," he added softly. He sighed, resigned to the ardent, though now somewhat embarrassed, looks on the boys' faces. "I ask you for patience... When you leave Hogwarts, when you finish your studies, you can do what you see fit. No one will stop you. Besides, in your case, Ginny, like Ron, even if we don't allow you to take part in the missions, you'll still be in contact with the Order. Your family is helping us a lot, they're very involved."

"My parents, where are they?" Ron repeated, his eyes widening. "Are they out on missions for the Order?"

"At the moment they're at your house, safe. But yes, they're actually helping us with some things," Remus corroborated.

"But what kind of missions? Are they dangerous?" Ron insisted, suddenly openly uneasy.

"Don't worry, they're fine," the man mumbled, evasive. He looked at them all gravely. "The whole situation is dangerous, kids, because we can't anticipate the enemy's next move. They are playing their cards very well. And I don't know how long this situation will last. That's why I insist that you stay out of trouble and under Dumbledore's protection for the rest of the term. Will you promise me that?"

"Alright," Hermione finally conceded, on everyone's behalf. Her friends seemed to be fighting their own internal battles.

"I'm going to have to go now, they're expecting me and I'm already late," Remus apologised, smiling warily at them. "Is there anything else you want from me?"

All looked in unison at Harry, who just stared at the carpet angrily. He finally raised his green gaze, flames glinting in the lenses of his glasses, to look at Lupin more calmly.

"No, Remus, thanks for making time for us. Take care of yourself, take care of everyone," he added, almost sadly. Remus smiled more genuinely, seemingly relieved that the boy didn't definitely hate him.

"We'll keep in touch. Write to me whenever you need to. Take good care of yourselves and don't do anything silly," he smiled sympathetically, winking at them with a tired eye.

"Goodbye, Remus," Hermione whispered, as the man's head disappeared, leaving the fire swaying innocently.

"The situation is serious, isn't it?" Ron commented quietly. They all fell silent. They hadn't gained much information from their old professor, but they all felt a heavy weight on their hearts. More aware than ever that a silent war was being waged out there. That there were people outside those walls preparing for open war against the darkness. Getting ready to die. Getting ready to watch people die.

Ginny and Ron's faces looked more haunted since they had heard the fact that their parents and siblings were risking their lives. Ginny didn't bother to hide it, her brown eyes glittering with concern in the light of the flames. One could see her chest rise and fall rapidly, laden with nervousness. Ron's jaw was uncharacteristically tense, but he seemed determined not to think about it too much. He didn't seem capable of imagining the worst. Unable to think of anything bad happening irreparably to his family.

"You haven't told him about that mysterious voice," Ginny said suddenly, breaking the silence and looking at Harry carefully. He just shook his head, not looking at her.

"I didn't want to worry him. He's got enough on his plate with Order business," he sighed heavily through his nose. "When I know something clearer, maybe I'll tell him. I'm not even able to discern yet whether it's something to be concerned about or not. Right now, I'm more concerned about the war. And we're stuck here..." he mumbled suddenly, rising to his feet and starting to pace around the Common Room with his hands behind his back. "It's unnerving."

"It's only for a few months," Hermione tried to reassure him. "When the term is over, our real war will begin. With any luck, Voldemort won't be strong enough to do anything else until then."

"She's right. We just have to be patient, mate. They won't take us seriously until then," Ron said, getting up from the floor and stretching his back, which creaked suspiciously. "Well, let's go to bed now, shall we? There hasn't been any unexpected news from outside, so we can sleep soundly. We've got to be awake to see how tomorrow Ravenclaw crushes Slytherin."

"Can you hear me? Is it working? Yes? Welcome, dear colleagues, to the fourth Quidditch match of the season, which isā€¦ ermā€¦! Which one was it, Professor? Oh, yes, of course, Ravenclaw versus Slytherin!" said Luna Lovegood's soft voice through the megaphone from the commentator's stand. "It looks like we're going to have a pretty cloudy day today. Let's hope it doesn't rain, otherwise the Plimpies might be attracted. They are round fish, with two webbed feet, that live in deep lakes. They're not dangerous, they just sting, and ā€” "

"The Ravenclaw team is entering the pitch," interrupted Professor McGonagall in exasperation, taking the megaphone away from her.

"Oh, come on, it's true! Let's see if I can remember everyone: Burrow, Chambers, Davies, Inglebee, Page... I can't remember the name of that one who looks like he's got a Wrackspurt in his ear ā€”"

"Samuels!" exclaimed the teacher, earning an avalanche of laughter from the stands.

"That's right, Samuels. Cheer up, Samuels, it'll come out... Okay, and lastly, Seeker MacDougal, everyone on Comets Two Sixty," Luna said jovially, immune to the fact that the Transfiguration teacher next to her was struggling to get her head around the fact that this was going to be the most maddening match she'd ever been to. "Now the Slytherin team, all in Nimbus Two Thousand and One: Pucey, Bletchley, Montague... That ugly one had a funny name... Ah, yes, Urquhart! Then the huge Crabbe, Goyle, and finally the Seeker Malfoyā€¦ Gee, he's got very, very blond hair, I wonder if he's using Lobalug venom to ā€”"

"Lovegood, please!"

"What's wrong, Professor? Wait, now you tell me, Madam Hooch is bringing out the ballsā€¦" Luna informed, in a cheerful and condescending tone towards the stressed woman. "She's already released the Golden Snitch! How beautiful it is... The Captains are shaking hands... Oh dear, what a squeeze, it would have broken all my fingers. Although, in fact, I did break them once. It's a funny story..."

"The match is on!" McGonagall interrupted, for, although Luna hadn't noticed, the whistle had already blown.

"Oh, well, yes... That's good! Let's see, Ravenclaw has taken the Quaffle..."

"Merlin's beard, I hope Luna's commentating every matchā€¦!" Ginny pleaded from the Gryffindor House stand, wiping away tears of laughter. "She's certainly on a par with Lee Jordan!"

"I hope she doesn't, or else McGonagall will be throwing herself head first down the stands," Harry commented, also laughing, waving a Ravenclaw flag. The entire school was in the same situation, laughter constantly filling the pitch, being heard even above the young blonde's comments. There had even been spontaneous applause a few times. It promised to be a memorable match, and Harry suspected that Luna was going to win a lot of people's sympathy. It seemed to be genuine laughter, everyone amused at her witticisms and McGonagall's open frustration, but not at her expense.

"Oh, please, listen to her, she's not even commenting on the match, she has started talking about the best way to maintain the grass!" Ron exclaimed with another fit of laughter.

"How many points did you say yesterday that each team needs to qualify?" Hermione asked suddenly, ignoring the conversation, scanning the sky intently. Ron stared at her in bewilderment, stopping his laugh abruptly.

"Well... Ravenclaw beat us by 340-210, but lost to Hufflepuff by 210-220, very tight, so they would need to win by more than 200 points to stay at the top of the rankings," he said, although he looked at the young girl strangely, as if she was a dangerous little animal.

"Yeah, and what about Slytherin?" Hermione asked, slightly impatiently. Now Harry and Ginny were also looking at her curiously. She never used to show any interest in Quidditch. Never

"Wellā€¦ Slytherin lost to us 130-350, but then they beat Hufflepuff 340-160, so they would need to win by aboutā€¦ 250 points at least."

Hermione pursed her lips, looking off into the distance again. Her eyes were moving rapidly in their sockets. She hadn't even noticed the quizzical looks her friends were giving her.

"And do they have a chance?" she questioned thoughtfully. Ignoring how her heart was pounding out of rhythm, she forced herself to add, against her will, "Malfoy would have to catch the Snitch to win, right?"

She felt the weariness taking hold of her after such a simple sentence. The mere utterance of his name brought a disconcerting exhaustion to the girl, as if she had just completed a Herculean task. And all she had done was pronounce the name of a schoolmate. One she was supposed to hate. One she was really trying hard to hate. And whose life shouldn't affect her in the slightest. But it was doing so. She felt deeply and irredeemably frustrated with herself.

She wasn't even able to pronounce his name normally after everything that had happened...

"Well, unfortunately, it's possible they might win. If Malfoy catches the Snitch... But since when do you like Quidditch?" Ron finally asked, unable to contain himself, putting a hand to her forehead. "Are you feverish? Are you delirious?"

"Of course not! I was justā€¦ curious," Hermione lied, pulling his hand away from her forehead. She looked at him slightly offended. "Since I'm watching the match I'd like to know whether or not to be happy when they score."

"That's easy," Ginny said, amused. "If Slytherin scores, we cry. If Ravenclaw scores, beer gulp."

Harry laughed, and Hermione forced a smile. But soon after, she returned an anxious glance at the match, specifically at a certain little green dot.

She remembered what happened when Slytherin lost to Gryffindor, in the first match of the season. How Malfoy had vented against a lamp in the Changing Rooms, completely destroying it. If they lostā€¦ would he fall apart like that again? She didn't want anything like that to happen. She couldn't bear to see him come apart again. Not after feeling so close to him, feeling thatā€¦ she knew him.

She had forced herself not to think about him during the week. To occupy her mind with other matters, with her friends, and with her studies. To forget that last kiss in front of McGonagall's office. To forget how she'd again done nothing to stop him. To forget how she had kissed him back. To forget the feel of the cold skin of his face on her fingertips. To forget that Malfoy had fought with a friend for her. She didn't know exactly what had caused it, what Warrington might have said or done against her, but whatever it was, Malfoy hadn't liked it. Nott had told her, and Draco had confirmed it against his will. And then he'd kissed her. And what a kiss...

But Hermione hadn't been able to bear the flutter of happiness in her chest as she met his lips. That the feel of his lips on hers was already so familiar. That, as she watched him approach her on the bench, she could only think that she wished, indeed, that he would kiss her. She couldn't bear to want him. She allowed herself a few seconds of weakness, just a few seconds to lose herself in his mouth, just as she'd been dying to do, but then she forced herself to push him away. To push herself away. To walk away. If Malfoy couldn't bring coherence to what was happening, she would have to. Even if it was against her will. Things couldn't go on like this, under any circumstances. Because everything was madness. And she couldn't stand things she couldn't understand or control.

But her heart didn't understand any of that. And she couldn't help that the figure of Malfoy on his broom, high above her, was the only one that caught her attention. She couldn't help but feel worried about him. She couldn't help but secretly pray for his well-being. Pray that they would win that match. Because she didn't want to see him suffer. And she knew that, to feel that way, was the last thing she should do.

But she did, and she didn't know how to remedy it. She felt disconnected from her emotions, depriving them of any reasoning. Maybe it wasn't as easy as simply walking away. She didn't feel it was enough to force herself not to think about him. But she didn't know how to remedy her feelings for Draco Malfoy. Especially when he, to her frustration, wasn't making it any easier. Those kisses had been his initiative. He was causing everything that was happening. Which made the least sense of all.

Hermione forced herself to muster up enough willpower not to fall back into the madness that their relationship was becoming. She just begged her mind not to let it happen again. That her reasoning would override... everything else. They had crossed an impassable line, and Hermione was fighting against herself to pull back behind it again.

She could live with the shame of feeling attracted to Draco Malfoy, but not with the shame of allowing herself to unleash those feelings with a person who hated her above many things. Even if sometimes he seemed to forget it.

Draco was describing circles around the Quidditch pitch, trying to visualise the tiny winged ball. Blurry blue or green figures buzzed around him, occasionally ruffling his blond hair as they passed too close. He noticed that MacDougal, the other team's Seeker, was also circling the other side of the pitch, her brown hair, pulled back in a ponytail, fluttering in the wind. He turned his broom to the right, and flew closer to the stands. Near him was the Gryffindor stand, like a compact mass of red and gold. He caught himself trying to make out something in the tide of blurred faces. Looking for someone. Looking for her. He wondered, unable to contain the unexpected rush of thoughts, if Granger, of all the people he could have thought of, would be seeing him. If she was noticing him. What she might be thinking of him...

A large black object whizzed past him, right in front of his chest, nearly knocking him off the broom as his body reflexively jerked back, startled. When he managed to make it out, he saw that it was a Bludger that had now changed direction and was heading towards Samuels, the Ravenclaw Beater.

He turned his head sharply and saw that Goyle was a few feet above him, tapping the bat in his left hand, grinning wickedly. Draco felt a shiver run down his spine like an electric current.

"Be careful on Saturday at the Quidditch match, you traitor."

Draco turned his back on his teammate and sped up on his broom, trying to outrun him. His heart was pounding in his ears. Were they really going toā€¦? He kept looking for the Snitch, an uncomfortable feeling in the back of his neck warning him that someone was watching him. He moved his broom further away from the area, reaching the Slytherin House stands, still looking around for the little winged ball, with a growing feeling of stress in his stomach.

Another Bludger suddenly appeared in front of him, drawing an exclamation from him, and he was forced to swerve sharply to avoid it. He managed to do so by the skin of his teeth, barely steadying his broom again. As a Seeker, he wasn't particularly trained in dodging Bludgers; that wasn't his job, nor did they usually attack Seekers with them. He looked down. Crabbe was flying a few feet below him. Although he couldn't hear him over the din of the place, he knew from the movement of his shoulders that he was chuckling under his breath. Draco looked around. The match was going on as usual, all the players attentive to their respective occupations, flying back and forth. Goyle was now directing his Bludger at Chambers, the Ravenclaw Chaser. No one seemed to have noticed anything.

"What are you pricks trying to do, throw me off my broom?" Draco shouted at Crabbe, as angrily as he could, trying not to look intimidated. Although, inwardly, his heart was beating like a drum from the shock of the last Bludger. And the situation in general.

"Just giving you a hard time is enough," Crabbe laughed back. His gruff face lit up, and he raised his bat again, directing a new Bludger that was passing by him at that moment, "Dodge that if you can, blood traitor!"

Indeed, Draco, though he tried desperately to swerve, was unable to avoid the collision, as the Bludger was too close to him. Therefore, the impact was also more violent. The heavy Bludger hit his left arm with frightening force, causing the broom to spin in mid-air with inertia. Roger Davies, Captain and Chaser of the Ravenclaw team, was crossing the pitch behind Draco at that moment, but stopped instantly in mid-air. Surprised to see his opponent being hit so violently. The force of the blow could have knocked Draco off his broom, but he managed to hold on by pure instinct. As he spun in mid-air, he felt his arm burn like it was on fire. With a cry of pain, he released his right hand from the broom and clutched his arm with it, shrinking in on himself, dropping his head to the handle.

"NO!" Hermione shouted, covering her mouth with both hands as Hooch's whistle blew.

Harry and Ron looked at her in surprise, not knowing why she was screaming, thinking something was wrong with her; but then they followed her gaze and realised that something had happened at the match. But that did not diminish their surprise. They had not seen what had happened, for they were following the Quaffle at the other end of the pitch.

"Why did they stop the match? Waitā€¦ whoā€¦? Malfoy? Did they hit Malfoy?" Harry wondered, gawking at the scene. The figure that corresponded to the blond was still overhead, still attached to the broom, but undeniably injured. He was curled in on himself, motionless. Hooch was approaching him on his broom at full speed. Davies was standing near him, and so was Crabbe.

"Ha! That's great!" Ron rejoiced, banging his fist on the railing. "What have they done to him? Did you see it?" he questioned, looking at Hermione. She shook her head, still staring at the little green dot that was Draco, her hands still in front of her mouth. "Come on, Hermione, don't freak out," he added condescendingly. "You're too empathic. They only hit Malfoy, it's no big deal."

"Blimey, Ron, it looks like he's been hurt for real," the young woman justified as best she could, forcing herself to look away from the Slytherin Seeker, so she could give her friend an almost defensive look. She lowered her hands, trying not to let Ron see that they were shaking. "It has surprised me..."

Although her mind had forced her to search for him with her eyes continuously, she had lost sight of the young blond on several occasions throughout the match, being hardly recognisable from such a distance. But she had located him in time to see him suddenly spinning around, crouched on his broom, trying to endure some kind of injury. A sight that had disturbed her completely, making her cry out helplessly. Unable to contain herself. To pretend.

"Have you seen it?" Harry asked in turn, looking at Ginny, who was still holding her Omnioculars tightly to her eyes.

"Crabbe hit him," said Ginny in a dry whisper, still looking through the magical binoculars, a souvenir of the Quidditch World Cup they'd attended together, years ago.

"Crabbe?" Harry repeated, confused. Ron's eyes and mouth opened wide, and he let out an uncontrollable laugh. "Really? His own teammate? Well, his mate..." he corrected himself, even more incredulous.

"As clumsy as he and Goyle are, I'm not at all surprised," Ron commented with a gleeful chuckle. "What a useless git, hitting someone of your own team... Remind me to congratulate him after the match, though."

"It didn't look like..." Ginny muttered, almost to herself. Her friends stared at her, confused by her words, waiting for her to continue. The girl finally pulled her Omnioculars away and gave them an obfuscating look. "I happened to be looking in his direction, and... it's true that Davies was flying behind Malfoy, he most likely wanted to hit him. It all happened so fast, but... I got the impression that he deliberately attacked Malfoy. That he was pointing at him."

Harry opened his mouth determinedly, ready to say something, but closed it when he realised he didn't know what to say. Confused, he just stared at the redheaded girl. Ron, behind him, had stopped smiling. His blue eyes were filled with puzzlement. Hermione struggled to contain a look of open horror. She had gone livid.

Crabbe had attacked Malfoy?

"Are you saying he attacked him on purpose?" Harry wanted to be sure, deeply puzzled. He looked up at Malfoy again. "Well, it's... Crabbe. It's Crabbe and Goyle. They're his friends... Well, okay, more like his bodyguards. But they idolise him, why would they do that?"

"Maybe he's had a fight with Crabbe for some reason," Ron said, frowning. "It'sā€¦ the only explanation. But I think you're wrong, Ginny, I'm sure that's what you just said, that he wanted to attack Daviesā€¦" He looked up at the players, as did Harry, up high. They were still talking to Hooch. "And he missed. I'm sure it was an accident."

"It's possible, butā€¦ from what I saw, I swear my feeling was that he was attacking him. I tried to repeat the play with the Omnioculars, but they were too far away and the image is not very clear. I can't get a good look at it, but it was very... weird," Ginny mumbled in thought, turning the little wheels on the magic binoculars she held in her hands.

"Could something so serious have happened between them that they would attack him at a Quidditch match, in front of the whole school?" Harry wondered aloud, apparently beginning to believe the Weasley girl's version. His green eyes shone with confusion behind his glasses.

Hermione could barely breathe. Her mind was blank, struggling to make sense of it. A sudden terror, like a wave of cold air, swept through her bones. If they had fought, if they had really fought... Was it possible that the reason was...?

As far as she knew, Malfoy had committed an unforgivable betrayal against his own kind. Treason enough to provoke that. But Crabbe and Goyle couldn't haveā€¦

Right?

"I'm going to look for Theodore Nott. It happened near the Slytherin area, he might have seen something different," Hermione said suddenly, speaking hastily but clearly. "Or knows what happened between them, if they really did fight."

"Nott?" Ron repeated, as he always did, almost out of habit, whenever the young woman mentioned the boy.

"Yes, Nott," the girl corroborated, laconic, too nervous to restrain herself from speaking sharply at him. "I think we've made it clear that we're friends, haven't we? I'm going to talk to him. I'll be right back."

Then she turned and walked away quickly, pushing her way through the crowd around them.

Harry opened his mouth to stop her, but didn't manage to say anything in time. He and Ron exchanged a look of open disquiet, both wondering if their friend was sure of what she was doing. If going to talk to Malfoy's friend was the best option, despite their supposed cordiality.

"Shall we go after her?" Ron questioned, impatiently. He seemed to look suddenly nervous. Harry hesitated, but ended up shaking his head.

"She said she'll be back. She'll kill us if she thinks we're spying on her, she'll think we don't trust her... Let's take her word for it. Hermione knows what she's doing. She's a thousand times smarter than us. And more cautious. If she thinks talking to this Nott guy is a good idea... She'll tell us what she finds out when she gets back."

Ron pursed his lips, but couldn't say anything against it. He returned his gaze to the halted match, watching the various reactions of the players to what had happened. Almost unseeing, with his mind clearly far away from there.

Ginny, meanwhile, was still staring in the direction in which her friend had disappeared. Stupefied. Worry shining in her brown eyes. Hermione's reaction to what had happened to Malfoy had been somewhat... strange. It seemed to have affected her more than was reasonable, regardless of her friend's good heart. She could have sworn she'd seen genuine concern in her eyes...

"Damn," the redhead thought, crossing her arms. She felt a shiver of uneasiness run through her. The words Luna had spoken at the Three Broomsticks, and which she had tried to forget as implausible, came back to her mind, confusing her completely. It matched what she had just seen, which she hadn't expected to happen.

Was it even remotely possible that Luna was right?

Draco, eyes tightly closed, barely managed to hear the high-pitched blast of Hooch's whistle above the collective loud murmur of the startled crowd. When he could raise his eyelids, he made out a blurry Davies, standing in the air before him, watching him with polite concern. But without daring to touch him. He also caught Crabbe out of the corner of his eye, to his left. He averted his eyes to him, but didn't have time to see his expression.

"Time-out!" he heard Madam Hooch yell, flying rapidly toward them on his broom. "What happened?" she roared angrily, glaring at the three of them. A quick glance at the young Malfoy made her realise that the wound he had suffered was not life-threatening.

"I pointed wrong," Crabbe justified himself, with a fake sad expression that made Draco's stomach churn. "I wanted to hit Davies, but Draco got in the way... I hit him in the arm."

"It'sā€¦ possible," Davies admitted in return, scratching his brown hair, a little confusedly. "I was passing next to Malfoy..."

Hooch looked at them one by one, stopping her gaze for a second too long on Draco. He, teeth clenched, holding back a groan of pain, merely nodded his head curtly. The woman visibly relaxed, perhaps believing that Draco's indignant expression was simply due to having been injured. She seemed to consider that, having been a Bludger thrown by someone on his own team, the mistake was obvious.

"All right. Malfoy, go down and have that arm checked out," Hooch ordered, more gently.

Draco shot a murderous glare at his teammate, which he made sure Hooch didn't see. He released the hand that was holding his left arm, holding it tight against his body, so that he could hold onto the broom handle with it. He began to descend slowly. Luckily, having always played as a Seeker, he was used to flying with one hand, stretching out the other to reach the Snitch. Even so, he was shaking from head to toe. From sheer anger and impotence. Montague reached him flying, halfway to the ground, looking worried. Draco had to make a considerable effort not to automatically tell him to sod off.

"Are you all right? What happened?" asked his captain, abruptly, descending next to him.

"Crabbe hit meā€¦ by accident," Draco lied through gritted teeth. He felt them creaking. "He was pointing at Davies."

Montague snorted softly, frustrated.

"These things happen," he muttered when they reached the ground, as the blond dismounted from his broom. He stayed in the air. "Let me know when you're feeling better." He hesitated, and Draco saw him swallow. "Because you can continue, right?"

"Of course," Draco agreed gruffly, turning his back to his captain's relieved face.

Montague flew up to speak to the rest of the team, who were waiting in an uneven circle in the air on their broomsticks. Draco headed towards Madam Pomfrey, who was waiting for him a few metres away, in the small tent, just a thick cloth held up by four poles, which was always set up at one end for temporary or emergency treatment. He could see that the woman was talking with rapid fidgeting to some of the teachers, Flitwick and McGonagall among them. Walking alone across the deserted field, in full view of the whole school, being the undisputed centre of attention and the reason for their conversations, made Draco's face colour. He loved attention, but not for something like this. Regardless, he squared his shoulders and walked with all the elegance he possessed, which was no little. Each stride with as much power as he could muster, even if his arm burned with each impact against the ground.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a figure descending the stairs leading down to the stands on his left. Nott stepped out to meet him, and joined him in his walk to the Healer. His features were tense, and his eyes looked tormented. Draco felt unable to look at him, and stared straight ahead.

"Are you okay?" Theodore asked as soon as he reached his side, panting slightly. He must have run downstairs to catch up with him.

"Perfect," Draco said curtly, continuing to stride towards the school Healer.

"I saw the whole thing. It wasn't an accident, it was on purpose," Nott accused furiously, trotting after him.

"No way, genius."

"Have you told Hooch?" Nott insisted, ignoring his bad mood.

"Don't be an idiot," Draco spat, visibly furious. "You know perfectly well why they did it. I can't say it was on purpose, because I'll have to explain the reason. So don't even think about opening your mouth..."

"And another one!" Madam Pomfrey shouted as soon as Draco reached her side, grabbing him by the robe and forcing him to sit on a small wooden bench. She took the broom from his hands, setting it aside with little finesse. Nott remained standing beside him. "I've been telling Professor Dumbledore for years that this Quidditch thing is barbaric! We've had someone injured in every match! They should leave Quidditch to the professionals!" She stretched out his elbow, eliciting a cry of pain from the boy, because of a sharp twitch in the shoulder area. "How were you hit?"

"Head-on, with a Bludger. Less than three metres away," the young man mumbled reluctantly.

The Healer effectively examined his arm with the wand as if it were an X-ray reader, without touching it again. A deep line was drawn between her grey eyebrows. She made various movements, first in circles, then in the shape of eights, both on his wrist and on his elbow and shoulder. Golden smoke followed the movements of the wand. Runes appeared magically drawn in the air from time to time, apparently giving her information regarding the state of the tissue. And also words that Draco, from his angle, could not read backwards.

"Well, just so you know, you've suffered a subluxation," she finally spat, tucking her wand away in her robes. The golden smoke dissipated after a few seconds. "You won't be able to play anymore. Tell Professor Dumbledore," she said over her shoulder to Professor Flitwick, who stood a few metres away, watching them. "The Slytherin team loses their Seeker. Call off the match."

"Don't talk rubbish!" Draco blurted out impolitely, startling the Healer. "Of course I can go on. I just have to catch the Snitch, and I can do that with the other arm."

"I can't let you do that!" Pomfrey exclaimed indignantly. "Have you gone mad?"

"Hey, I'm the one with the crappy arm, and I'm the one who says I can play," Draco snapped at her. "So will you please just do your job ā€” bandage it, or something like that, so I can get back into the match."

Madam Pomfrey glared at him, breathing furiously through her nose like a Hungarian Horntail. Nott was tempted to take a step back, overwhelmed by the murderous glares between student and Healer, almost as if two Impediment Hex had been thrown through each other's eyes at once. Fighting to make the other one falter.

"All right, you asked for it," the witch blurted out between her teeth, her voice tense. Then she wandered off in search of what was needed to give his arm an emergency dressing, muttering something in which the words 'brats' and 'insolent' could be made out. Flitwick ā€” his wrinkled face contorted with unease ā€” followed her to talk to her.

Nott turned to Draco, staring at him with a heavy look in his blue eyes.

"You can't go back there," the dark-haired boy said in a whisper, trying to make sure only he could hear him. "They're going to kill you."

"Let them dare..." Draco snarled, swaggering, pulling the guards off his injured arm with his other hand. Seeing that he was having trouble doing so as he tried to keep his arm as still as possible, to avoid the pain, he moved his mouth to his arm and used his teeth as well.

"Draco, this is very serious," Nott begged, emphatically, sitting down beside him, and helping him, without being asked, with the laces of the guards. His friend did not look him in the eye, but merely followed the movement of his hands. "You have to tell someone."

Draco had the courage to let out a contemptuous laugh.

"Wonderful idea. Would you mind calling my mother and Snape, and bringing them in so I can tell them? Oh, and if you locate the Dark Lord you bring him along too," Draco sniggered with open scorn. Finally removing the guard that his friend had managed to unbuckle.

"Dammit, then tell Dumbledore!" Nott proposed in frustration. "Maybe he can do something."

"What I fucking needed..."

"Draco," Nott insisted, his voice loaded with pleading, "I beg you, please, don't get back into the match. They can harm you very badly. It's not worth it, what are you trying to prove?"

"If I don't play, we'll lose," the blond replied firmly. He let out a snort, and added more calmly, in a lower voice, "Besides, this is good for me. Those two brainless idiots aren't realising the consequences. It's to my advantage. They are attacking me openly; everyone will see me as a victim. Those two ruminants are attacking a teammate. They are making fools of themselves. If they still intend to say anything about Granger and me, they don't realise that they will have lost all credibility with what they're doing now... But they don't know that, because they don't know how to use ten per cent of their brains," Nott just stared at him, his mouth half open. He wasn't sure if he admired his friend's ability to exploit any situation to his advantage, or if he thought him insane. "Go, the match will start soon," Draco added, just as an angry Pomfrey approached him again with a potion in her hands.

Nott gave him a reproachful look. He was incorrigible.

Theodore jumped to his feet in frustration and strode back to the stands at a brisk pace, without saying goodbye. He passed, startled by surprise, a thoroughly distressed Pansy Parkinson, who passed him without a glance, running in Draco's direction and shouting the boy's name. Nott, holding back the shiver of discomfort that ran through him at the fuss the young woman was making, began to climb the steps of the stands two at a time, just to relax the rage he felt inside. They were going to kill him and, for a change, he wasn't listening. He was fed up.

As he reached the third flight of stairs, looking for the place where he had been sitting, he practically collided face-first with Hermione Granger, who was coming down at that moment.

"Nott!" the girl greeted, smiling nervously. "I was looking for you..."

"Grangerā€¦" he muttered, still a bit dazed. "Me?"

"I saw you went downstairs with Malfoy." Hermione looked over the boy's shoulder, in the direction of the awning Draco was standing under. Although, from where they were, the angle did not allow for a direct view of the young man.

"Yeah, I'veā€¦ left him with Pansy," Nott revealed, panting slightly, still out of breath from his rapid ascent up the stairs. The girl's face changed, but in such a subtle way that Theodore, if he hadn't been expecting precisely that reaction, would not have noticed.

Everything was falling into place more and more...

"Of course ā€” right... She'd be worried," Hermione murmured, pulling herself together and nodding her head lightly, as if it were obvious. She refocused her gaze on Nott, "C-can we talk? Where they can't hear us?" She looked around, a little nervously.

Nott frowned, confused. He looked around as well. The stands to his left were filled with Slytherin students from different years. He failed to spot any familiar people among the green and silver tide that covered the wooden seats. To his right were the Hufflepuff stands, like a bright yellow and black blanket, almost harmful to the eye.

"I guessā€¦ Come," he took her by the bend of her elbow and pulled her up the stairs. They both lost their way through a crowd of Hufflepuff students and hid under the wooden roof that supported the upper-tier seats. They made their way into the structure of the stand, into the skeleton of the Quidditch pitch, until they were surrounded by vertical and horizontal beams of varying sizes. The space was tall enough to accommodate both youths, of similar height, slightly crouched down.

"How is Malfoy?" was the first thing the girl questioned, looking at Nott with an obvious intensity shining in her expressive brown eyes. Though she tried to sound as innocent as possible. As if she was just asking out of politeness. Even so, Nott stared at her for a few seconds. The question 'What the hell do you care?' died on his lips.

"He's got aā€¦ subluxed shoulder," he finally confessed, cautiously. "But he's fine. It was just an unfortunate accident."

"Really?" asked the girl with newfound abruptness. Nott tilted his head, pretending not to understand. "Ginny, Ron's sister, has seen everything through the Omnioculars. And she's pretty convinced it was on purpose. I came to ask you about it."

Nott faked an incredulous smile and looked at her in confusion.

"How is Crabbe going to attack him on purpose? They're friends... It's clear that..."

"I know all that already. That's why I'm asking you, because we found it very strange," Hermione protested, looking at him unblinkingly. "Did something happen between them to make them attack him like that?"

She pretended that her question was a simple logical deduction, though she wasn't sure she had succeeded. Nott was watching her carefully.

"Crabbe hit him by accident," he insisted, his voice calm and impersonal. But he couldn't help but watch the expression on her face closely. She swallowed, and stared at him, slightly doubting her hypothesis.

"Was it really an accident?" she muttered, less sure of herself.

"How could it not be?" he was surprised, though still in a calm tone. Now Nott's steady gaze began to make her uncomfortable. "Can you think of any reason why he might have been attacked?"

Hermione forced herself to let out a soft laugh.

"As you may understand, I can't know something like that," she said, trying to sound amused. But Nott wasn't laughing. He looked at her, weighing his possibilities. Could he find out, from Granger, what was really going on? Or would he get himself into irreparable trouble?

"Really?" Nott finally muttered, unable to contain himself. "Well, I believe you do know something."

The young woman stared at him for a few seconds, in a confused silence. Nott's sudden accusation made her heart race, and she could feel it pounding in her ears. Her brain was working at full speed, trying to make sense of her interlocutor's steady gaze, though it felt curiously dull. But it was still too soon for panic to set in. She needed more information.

"Me?" she finally said, trying to sound as puzzled as possible. Which wasn't lying, actually. She had her heart the size of a Gobstone at that moment. "What would I know? The only thing I can think of isā€¦ about Warrington. That Crabbe and Goyle want to avenge Warrington for the beating Malfoy gave him, is that possible?" she hypothesised suddenly, watching Nott with renewed anxiety.

The dark-haired boy let out an unimpressed snort through his nose. His eyes shifted rapidly, recalculating his strategy.

"It was not exactly because of Warrington..."

"But, then, is it true that it wasn't an accident?" she interrupted him, wanting to confirm it, emboldened by the fact that he seemed willing to talk. Her heart was pounding. There was an alarm sounding stridently inside her, warning her that the direction of the conversation would not be to her liking.

"No, it wasn't an accident. Crabbe deliberately attacked him," he finally confessed, ignoring the voice in his brain that was yelling at him to shut his mouth immediately. A voice that sounded like Draco's. Hermione's eyes became two open wounds.

"Why?" was the only thing that escaped her lips, almost in a gasp. "Why would they do such a thing? If it wasn't because of Warrintgon, what ā€” ?"

"Can't you think of anything?" Nott insisted, laconically. Hermione felt helplessness and rage take over her mood.

"Oh, for God's sake, what are you talking about? What's all this mystery?" she exclaimed, exasperated and flustered. "How can I ā€” ?"

She didn't manage to finish the sentence, as she suddenly understood the meaning of his question. She understood what Nott wanted to get at. But it wasn't possible... The way he was looking at her suddenly frightened her. He was analysing her, as if he was seeing her for the first time. He was looking at her as if... he knew everything.

Did Nott know?

And Crabbe, and Goyleā€¦?

She hadn't expected, really, that her suspicions about why they might have attacked Malfoy would be confirmed. She wasn't prepared for the irremediable reality. She stared at the boy, who was looking at her with undivided attention. How much could she reveal? How much would Malfoy have told him? Would he have told him anything?

"From the look on your face, you seem to know what I'm talking about," Nott suddenly commented with sharp irony. Hermione swallowed hard and forced herself to maintain her composure. No matter what was going on, she had to control herself.

"No, I don't know what you are talking about. I don't know what to say, I don't know anything..."

Nott snorted through his long nose, making her mute, and merely shifted his gaze from one eye to the other. This time Hermione saw a firm determination in the boy's blue orbs. A feeling she didn't like one bit. She sensed that she was, inevitably, in trouble.

"Crabbe and Goyle saw you and Draco together," the dark-haired young man revealed, his voice serene and slightly husky. "The day Draco beat up Warrington. You were seen in front of McGonagall's office. I don't know what they saw you doing, but they think there's something going on between you two, and now they're calling Draco a blood traitor."

Hermione took a long moment to react. For several seconds, she couldn't even make a face. She was petrified. Judging by Nott's watchful gaze, she knew she had to say something, express something, but she couldn't. She couldn't think, her brain suddenly deciding that there was nothing coherent enough inside her to say out loud. She had to lean with her shoulder against a wooden post that was fortunately next to her, absently, feeling her legs wobble.

In front of McGonagall's officeā€¦ they had kissed. Malfoy had kissed her. She had kissed him back. She'd left after a few seconds, but she'd kissed him back.

How could anybody who saw them not think that there was something going on between them?

Oh, my God...

"Malfoy and I don't ā€”" was all she managed to articulate, amidst Nott's patient silence.

"Don't, what?" Nott mumbled, disdainfully, interrupting her. He cursed himself for not keeping his word about not telling. Draco was literally going to kill him. "I know you saw each other that day, because I left you in front of McGonagall's office myself. But I don't know what happened when I left, and honestly, until recently it wouldn't have occurred to me to think of the possibilities I'm thinking of now. Crabbe and Goyle seem to be clear about what they saw," he ironized, almost mockingly, "but they have no proof of anything, so we don't think they're going to tell anyone else. No one will believe them. Naturally," he returned to a scathing tone.

"What are they supposed to have seen us doing?" the girl articulated, attempting to imbue her voice with bewilderment. Almost with a defensive tone. She needed to know everything. Make sure what Nott knew.

"Draco didn't want to tell me, nor have I spoken to them directly," Theodore admitted, in an annoyed murmur, after hesitating. It seemed as if he had been about to pretend he knew what had happened, so that he could force a confession out of her by deception, but, in the end, he decided to be honest. To confront her with the truth.

Hermione let out a disbelieving snort, upset. She needed to calm down. Nott didn't know anything for sure, and, if Malfoy hadn't told him, neither would she. No one needed to know what was going on between them.

"This is surreal. What the hell do they think we've done? They think thatā€¦ thatā€¦ And now they're trying to kill him in a school Quidditch match," Hermione managed to articulate, agitated. She put a hand to her forehead, tousling her own fringes awkwardly. "It's insane."

"Not much about Draco has been coherent lately," Nott complained, leaning his back against a beam behind him and crossing his arms.

"Maybe it's all more coherent than you're imagining," Hermione defended him unexpectedly. Pretending not to corroborate Crabbe and Goyle's accusation. But even she didn't believe her own words. Malfoy's unexpected kisses, the passion he was showing towards her, his sudden defence by punching Warrington to defend her against something the boy had said against her... It was all being uncharacteristic, really. Hermione shared her interlocutor's opinion: few things involving Malfoy in the last few months were being coherent.

Nott looked at her, unfazed.

"What did you and Draco do, Granger?" he asked bluntly, calmly. "You trusted me with the whole Ancient Runes thing. Trust me again, please. Should I be worried? Is Draco in some sort of trouble?"

She swallowed and looked at him, understanding exactly what he meant by 'trouble'. She felt her heart turn to lead. That was the way things were. That was the plain fact of the matter. It was nothing she didn't know, but she still had to give herself a few seconds to come to terms with the situation. The fact that there was something going on between them was nothing but trouble. It was absolutely not a good thing. Even someone as open-minded, and as tolerant of relationships between Muggle-borns and pure-bloods, as Nott was, knew that it was a problem. Malfoy's situation, and hers, didn't make it any easier. Nothing was supposed to be going on between them. Just the fact that certain things were going on was unacceptable, so they definitely had to stop everything immediately. Nothing else could happen. It was dangerous, frightening, risky.

Life had just thrown reality in her face. A reality that she had overshadowed with her feelings, excusing herself in them to allow herself to imagine certain things. But reality hadn't changed despite what she might feel. Suddenly it was all painfully clear.

"No," Hermione said confidently, her voice not shaking. "He is not. At least not with me. I don't know what they thought they saw, but nothing unusual happened. I find it ridiculous to have to clarify it. It is obvious."

Nott chuckled with his nose. Demonstrating how little credibility he gave to her defence.

"It seems you two have agreed to say that."

Hermione met his eyes, scrutinising them. Judging by his expression, Hermione knew that Nott knew the truth. Neither Draco nor she had managed to deceive him. And she wasn't sure how much of a problem that was.

It suddenly dawned on her that she had to talk to him. She had to talk to Malfoy urgently. She would find him after the match. She needed to clarify what had happened with Crabbe and Goyle. How they could have seen them. What they had said to him. What they had done to him.

They had seen them together...

Nott made to say more, but a loud beeping sound muffled his words. They both raised their heads to the floor of the upper tier, out of inertia. The match had started again.

"Don't tell me he's going to play again!" Hermione was scandalised, stamping her foot on the worn wooden floor.

Nott snorted and nodded, looking at her with mutual annoyance. He ruffled his dark hair in frustration.

"I have to go," Nott murmured, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. He sounded upset, and disappointed. "I want to see if anything else happens in the match. We'll... talk."

Hermione, though she had no desire, far from it, to take up the conversation again, managed to nod her head. But her neck felt stiff. She was so aware of the fear inside her that her hands were shaking. With sheer uncertainty.

What else could happen?

Draco was flying again in search of the Snitch, many metres above the ground. He felt intermittent, sharp stabs of pain in his left shoulder, heavily bandaged and held in a sling around his neck. As well as a continuous dull ache. The match resumed, and the fans returned to cheering normally.

Trying to relax his altered heartbeat, he turned his head slyly, pretending to look for the Snitch, and caught sight of Crabbe and Goyle. They were standing quite a few metres away from him. And they were only a few metres from one another. Talking in whispers loud enough for them to hear each other.

Draco cursed under his breath, realising that they must be planning a new trick. Damn it, if he had his wand with him those two will see... He looked around for Madam Hooch, and located her quite far away, watching a new Ravenclaw goal scored by Burrow. Draco wasn't quite sure how to proceed. On the one hand, he wanted them to do something to him again. He wanted people to turn on them, which they would do when they saw them attack their own teammate. It would definitely help the discredited image he was creating of them.

But on the other hand, he had no desire to get his other arm dislocated.

He decided to fly closer to his teammates than he would in normal situations as a Seeker, trying to feel a little more protected. He wasn't going to risk his fucking life for something like that. He had the matter more or less taken care of. A dislocated shoulder was enough. Now he just had to catch the Snitch and win the match.

As he approached the three golden poles with hoops on the end, suddenly, and against all odds, as he wasn't consciously looking for it, he saw it.

The tiny winged ball was circling next to one of the Slytherin posts. With an emptiness in his chest, he steered the broom there at full speed. He caught a glimpse of MacDougal, on the other side of the pitch, and much further away from the Snitch than he was, doing the same. As he flew at full speed, he balanced his body so that he could raise his only useful hand when it was necessary to catch the ball, holding on to the broom with his legs only. He listened, beneath the wind whistling in his ears, as the commentator, that wacky girl from Ravenclaw, commented on his performance. Although he didn't understand what she said, he thought he heard his name.

With his eyes fixed on the Snitch, he made an arc across the pitch, and then he went through the middle of the players, following it without pause. With only a few metres to go, the group of Slytherin Chasers sped past him with the Quaffle in their hands, forcing him to stop dead in his tracks. Heart pounding, his nervous eyes scanned his surroundings. He clucked his tongue in disgust as he saw that the Snitch had disappeared again.

MacDougal came to his side at that moment, stopping as well, and sought his gaze. Draco met her gaze, still panting, and saw that the young woman was smiling sadly at him, equally disappointed. Apparently trying to be a friendly rival. Even before Draco, weighed down with various emotions, could even blink, the brunette's face unhinged and she raised an arm, pointing to the sky behind the Slytherin Seeker's back.

Draco didn't even try to look at what she was pointing at. Reflexively, he spun on his broom at full speed, trying to get out of the way, but he wasn't fast enough. Suddenly he felt someone flick a switch and turn off the light around him. He didn't know if he had closed his eyes, or if he had stopped seeing. He was overcome by a sudden pain inside his head, an excruciating pain, as if his skull had exploded into a thousand pieces... He had to stop thinking, in the midst of the agony. He thought he saw a bright flash behind his closed eyelids, and suddenly he was no longer attached to his broom. He was attached to nothing. He was weightless, falling down a long, dark tunnel...