Hogwarts, Library Stacks
1996: Sept. 14, Sixth Year
POV: Hermione Granger
There's a slight stiffening in his demeanor as I make it known that I am aware of his unwanted presence. But just as swiftly, Malfoy's stance, rigid at my discovery of him, is now lazy, leaning against the other side of the bookshelf we're speaking through.
"I think you're the one who's stalking me, Granger." His languorous drawl grates at my already frayed nerves.
Of all the days, in all the stacks of the library, why must I have to deal with this wretched creature? I sigh with exasperation as I gear up to speak the reply I know he expects. It is part of the now tired dance of disdain we've managed to tangled ourselves up in since he insulted the only two friends I'd managed to make on that very first train ride to Hogwarts.
"And dare I ask how, yet again, you manage to make me the villain in what is sure to be an unseemly drama unfolding in your small, twisted brain?" I ask, as offhandedly as I can muster. It is quite tiring to keep up with the witty repartee when I'm this wound up by my real life issues. Nevertheless, I carry on in my attempt to best him in our verbal spar. "It never ceases to surprise me, Malfoy, how you still somehow manage to come second in class only to me."
I watch his lips move from smirk to snarl, knowing full well how perturbed he gets when realizing he can't seem to best a Mudblood. As I examine what little of him I can see through the opening in the shelves, I notice his eyes narrow on the book in my hand. My grip instinctively tightens around its spine.
Mine! I think automatically as I see his facial expression exhibit the same sentiment of ownership.
"You asked for the same book from Pince as I did only minutes before," his tone accusing. "You saw her walk away without helping me. So, to amuse yourself, and annoy me in the extreme, you've come to abscond with it."
I look at him incredulously, amused by his accusation. My incredulity is short-lived as his foulness expresses itself in an even more ridiculous, self-centered continuation of his suspicions.
"If you desire my attentions, Granger, you need only ask."
If he weren't such a... a loathsome... snake... disinclined to ever get his scales dirtied by the likes of a Muggle-born, I'd almost think he's being flirtatious. The horror! The very idea of something so unsavory turns my mere annoyance at his presence into outright, blinding fury.
"What?!" I shout, outraged. "You are mental, Malfoy! My life does not revolve around you as you'd, apparently, like it to." I allow myself a satisfied smile, this I do specifically to annoy him. I watch his grey eyes darken at my amusement. I wait a moment to continue my taunting. "So, you want this, do you?" I hold the book up between us, out of his reach, and blocking his face from my view. I wiggle it around in front of him, hoping to increase his desire for it. Then, I quickly tuck it under my arm.
"Granger! I need that book."
Impudent, bratty boy!
"Well, I need it more, Malfoy! Besides," I say, resisting the urge to adopt a playground sing-song in my tone, "I found it first!"
The steel in his eyes flashes as I make my possessive claim. He looks about ready to wrestle me for it.
"What I need it for is far more pressing than your trifling essay for Binns which is due at the end of the semester," the sarcasm drips, his gaze mocks, but behind the condescension, I note that he knows my habit of completing work far earlier than necessary to meet deadlines.
Unwilling to reveal the heart-wrenching reason behind why I'm standing in the bowels of the library clutching at this dusty genealogy book, I sniff and stick my chin up in the air.
"Like I said, ferret, finders keepers."
With that, I turn my back to him. My movement is so quick that I feel my robe whip around my ankles. I do not hurry off, making a point to hold my head high. Unfortunately, my slow pace allows him to close the distance between us. Too soon, I hear the sound of his leather shoes stepping up behind me. He does not touch, but he's encroached on my personal space. He's never been this near. There is a trickle of fear running down my spine. I wonder idly if the sound of a scream can penetrate the walls. It is my turn to stand rigidly.
When at last he speaks, it is in a whisper against my ear. Malfoy's tone, unfamiliar.
"It is a reference book, Granger. Neither one of us can check it out of the library." He states the obvious as though confiding of a deep, dark secret. "Would you be so kind as to allow me to share it with you? It appears as though we are under the same time constraints."
The words are, dare I say, aristocratically polite. Absently, I notice he hasn't bothered to use the magic word. His request is less of a plea, and more of a command, a soft one, but a command, nonetheless.
I do not turn to look up at him. For some reason, unbeknownst to me, I feel my head move into a nod.
I climb the stairs up to the main area of the library with Malfoy at my heels.
Flashback: 1956 - Sept. 19, 1979
Fiery Heart
Aiden Mustelidae, son of Catherine and Leopold, grew up healthy and hale. To the great delight of his parents, an owl arrived right before his eleventh birthday inviting him to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
It had been a running joke throughout his stay at Hogwarts that he'd been the greatest enigma to the Sorting Hat, which couldn't figure out which house he belonged. Aiden was the last to be called and he sat on the stool long into the night with the hat grumbling about having to separate students in the first place.
After having listened to the hat for so long, Aiden was never truly sure whether he really belonged in the house the Hat finally put him in. In the end, it seemed of relatively little consequence, for Aiden was a favorite in his class across house lines.
With dark brown curls a riot around his face, his sharp wit, and his clever ways with his wand and on the broomstick, Aiden spent seven years at the school a very popular wizard, indeed.
His parents were extremely proud of their boy.
During a summer in wizarding France, Aiden met Caroline Geonicy of Beauxbaton, a dark-haired, pure-blood beauty. Their romance began that summer of their sixth year, weaving a long-distance love story through their 7th year. They were married shortly after graduation, living in France during the Dark Lord's rising in wizarding England, having taken Aiden's parents with them. They returned in 1978 when his job as a Seer called Aiden and his family back to the place of his birth.
Upon relocating, they discovered Caroline would soon be heavy with child. The joy of this news, however, was very short-lived
A secret prophecy sent to Catherine by owl during Caroline's seventh month of pregnancy had her hiding her grandchild's identity with the help of magic. Her use of it was illegal since Catherine only had a mere minute with the baby at the Muggle hospital called, St. Andrews. She worked quickly to take heed of the foretold danger given to her by an unlikely source: an extremely dangerous man, a father she never knew, a foretelling corroborated by the family that scorned her mother.
Catherine knew that she alone was the only one who could to save the baby.
Catherine never met her father face-to-face and she still possessed no desire to know the Senguis, neè Sengue, side of her family tree. All she discovered of her familial past was that her father was Morfin Gaunt, the last remaining descendant of Salazar Slytherin. The words on her father's owl post told her that if she wanted her innocent granddaughter to live, she would have to carry the secret of her ancestry to the grave.
No one knew.
She worried that Aiden, might, considering his great power as a Seer, but he never indicated any knowledge. Even Caroline and Leopold always wondered how the newest Mustelidae came to have such uncharacteristically beautiful, golden hair.
FLASHBACK: 1991
Remember the Mustn'ts
"Now, as the Sorting Hat, it is important you are aware of the partial truth of a very strange prophecy that I now have to share with you," Hogwarts' headmaster Dumbledore told the grimy hat on the stool. Watching the grumpy hat, Dumbledore took a bite out of the chocolate frog in his hand.
The Sorting Hat harrumphed, disinclined to show any interest in the headmaster's curious words.
"There will be one among the first years who will seem to have the blood of one of the founding wizards coursing through her. You are not allowed to speak of this to the child. You mustn't." Dumbledore's unusually commanding tone emphasized the great need to keep the secret of the prophecy. The hat suppressed the urge to argue. "It will be the end of this student and of all of us if you do not abide my warning," glowered the headmaster. "Sort the child in any house but the one belonging to that wizard. By doing so, you will protect us all from danger."
"Will this mis-sorting help us 'Stand together to be strong from within?' then?" the hat asked.
"That it will," mumbled the headmaster. "That it will."