DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter, nor am I affiliated in any way with J.K. Rowling.
"You do realize that you're talking absolute nonsense, right?" Draco asked contemptuously, lounging comfortably back on the chair.
"Shut up," Granger replied absently, her bushy head buried in their fourth book that day. "It makes sense."
"Like hell it does." Draco rolled his eyes and began to drum his fingers on the desk for no other reason that to cause annoyance.
"Stop that," Granger told him sternly.
Draco drummed with both hands.
"I said, stop that!" Granger scowled, glancing up from the book in irritation. "You said you wanted to do research but so far I've been the one sitting here doing everything!"
Draco stared at her in genuine incredulity.
"You can't honestly expect me to sit there reading, do you?" he asked in horror.
"Perish the thought," Granger muttered.
"Good," Draco answered before smirking slightly. "After all, if I was actually expected to work then the information that you need might just fall out of my head."
"Speaking of that information, I'm going to start needing it really soon," Granger told him, looking him evenly in the eye. "Or at least some proof that you can help me."
"What's up, Granger?" he asked, leaning forward on the table. "Don't trust me?"
"Not for one second."
Draco smirked again as he processed this. "Smart girl. But how do Iknow that I can trust you with the knowledge I have?"
That stumped her. She opened her mouth before pausing and closing it again. She thought for several seconds before answering.
"Because you have to."
"I'm afraid that's not good enough," Draco said with a mock sigh, enjoying this power.
"Fine," Granger shrugged. She snapped the book closed and stood up. "Then have fun researching on your own."
She swing her bag over her shoulder and strode angrily out of the library. Draco watched her go with disinterest; she'd be back.
He reached across the table to see what book she'd been perusing through.
'Hogwarts: A History'? Draco thought with considerable disdain. Because forbidden love and murder would be under the contents page? For an intelligent girl, Granger can be an idiot sometimes.
"That book doesn't contain the real history of Hogwarts," a mournful voice whispered.
Draco jumped and looked up sharply. Trayton was hovering behind Granger's vacated seat and sadly looking at the book.
"Only the history that the castle wishes to portray," the ghost continued. "If people knew the truth…the deaths that had occurred…would they still come, I wonder?"
"Yes," Draco answered simply, going back to the book. "Some people love a sense of morbidity."
"Quite," Trayton said distastefully. "Have you had any luck with the necklace?"
"I'm getting there," Draco answered evasively. He quickly changed the topic. "Tell me more about the Sons of Slytherin."
"What more do you want to know?" Trayton asked, a sigh escaping from his lips.
"Anything. Everything."
"There really isn't that much to know," Trayton told him with a shrug. "We were a secret society. Membership was by invitation only. There were initiation rites-"
"What sort of initiation rites?" Draco interrupted.
"The kind not meant for young ears to hear about," Trayton said sadly.
"But you were about my age when you completed them," Draco pointed out with a frown.
"Exactly," Trayton murmured, directing his gaze downwards. "This is why I'm reluctant to tell you more. We did things that I am not proud of." There was a dark pause, which immediately lightened with his next line. "Of course, we did things that I am immensely proud of, such as stealing crates of ale from the Groundskeeper's hut and smuggling it back into the castle. That was a fun night."
Draco found himself laughing. He listened to Trayton relay tales that wouldn't be out of place in old-fashioned tales about misbehaving boys at boarding school. Which, he supposed, they were. The ghost carefully edited out the darker things that the Sons of Slytherin had done, quickly stopping a story if it was taking a sinister turn and changing it to something else.
"Then there was the skinny dipping incident," Trayton continued with a chuckle. "The Giant Squid didn't like that very much. That's the first time I really noticed Zella, you know. After our…night time swim, I mean. She was out strolling with Fin at the time."
"Fin?" Draco repeated.
"Finian Everett," Trayton confirmed. "He hated his name, insisted everyone called him Fin. He was a Gryffindor, Zella's best friend. Mainly because of this, all the Slytherins called him Finian to irritate him. It was very amusing at the time."
"I'm sure," Draco answered dryly. "I'd comment on the odd names in use when you were at school but…well, it'd be hypocritical of me. So, did Zella and Fin ever-?"
"No, no. She swore that they were just friends," Trayton answered quickly, reading Draco's mind. "He didn't like us being together though. In fact, I sometimes wonder if he was the one who betrayed us."
"I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be loyal?" Draco asked, sneering as though this trait wasn't commendable.
"Loyalty was in short supply when I was with Zella," Trayton sighed. "In the whole school I was loyal only to the Sons of Slytherin and to her."
"I suppose I could always ask Granger if she knew who betrayed you," Draco mused. "Her dreams of Zella are getting more powerful, she's bound to know who did it soon enough."
"I'd rather not know, if it's all the same," Trayton answered unhappily. "I've spent so long wondering but, really, what will change? We'll still both be dead, as will the traitor."
Draco shrugged. "Well, whatever. I've actually got some studying to do, so if you want to go I won't blame you."
Trayton smiled. "I'll see you soon then."
"No doubt," Draco nodded as the ghost vanished.
"I'll kill Malfoy," Hermione seethed as she met up with Harry and Ron at lunch.
"Why?" Harry asked, momentarily taken aback by this greeting.
"Again, not that there's any reason needed," Ron reminded.
"He isn't sharing anything of what he knows," Hermione growled. "He's got me sitting there leafing through book after bleeding book while he reclines the morning away!"
"You spent the whole morning there?" Harry frowned. "That's not like you to miss lessons."
"I lost track of time," Hermione admitted sheepishly. "Besides, the teachers know how stressed I am. Considering I'm ahead in all of their lessons due to my lack of sleep, I don't think they'll blame me for taking a day off."
"So you're spending the afternoon with Malfoy as well?" Ron scowled.
"Not by choice," Hermione told him darkly as they sat down.
"I hate to say I told you so but that doesn't mean that I won't," Ron commented gleefully. "I told you so."
"Thanks, Ron," Hermione answered acerbically. "That makes me feel so much better about everything."
"Don't mind him, he's just worried," Harry assured her. "We both are."
"We don't want you hanging out with Malfoy," Ron told her.
Hermione felt as if she had entered an unofficial intervention.
"I don't want me hanging out with Malfoy," Hermione frowned. "Unfortunately Zella has other ideas."
"She didn't specifically say 'go and make friends with the descendant of the man who killed me' though, did she?" Ron said, shoving a bread roll into his mouth.
"We don't know it was Trayton who killed her," Hermione reminded him. "He seems just as much a victim as she was. And she doesn't say anything, specifically or otherwise. I don't think I've ever heard her speak."
"Maybe she's shy?" Harry suggested, reaching for his own food. "But back to Malfoy. You shouldn't be researching with him. Can't you just get the information out of him and go it alone? Or, at least, with us to help you?"
"No. He won't tell me anything." Absently, she reached for a large bowl of soup and ladled spoonfuls into her smaller bowl. "He's so arrogant and lazy and spoiled and impossible and did I mention arrogant?" She took a sip of her soup before taking a bread roll to go with it. "I swear, he knows something that could help me but just because I'm me, he isn't telling! I hate him, I really do!" She glanced up to see her friends staring at her. "What?"
"You're eating," Ron pointed out.
"I'm hungry," Hermione answered with a shrug before she understood what he meant. "Oh. Right. Yeah."
"All that rage worked you up an appetite?" Harry asked, laughing.
"I think it did," Hermione nodded. "Before you know it I'll be angry enough to have an undisturbed sleep!"
Inevitably, this didn't happen. Hermione awoke breathing heavily at midnight, as per usual, that very night. She reflected one what she had just dreamt before her blood ran cold.
"I'm sorry but…I don't understand what you want from me," Hermione said, fully aware that she was dreaming as the ever silent Zella led her down the familiar Hogwarts corridor.
Zella glanced back with nothing but a smile and a nod in the direction they were going.
"I know you want me to follow you, okay, I understand that!" Hermione called after her. "But we're visiting the same places, night after night! Is there something that I'm missing?" She scowled, anger and frustration rising. "Why won't you talk to me?"
She didn't spare a look for Zella's body on the floor as she passed it, having seen it too many times. However the ghost Zella stopped just beside her body and knelt down beside it. She stroked her body's light hair, matted with blood, softly and mournfully.
Hermione followed her lead uncertainly. At Zella's nod of approval, she reached out to touch the body. Even in the dream world, the skin was icy to touch, the blood slick. Troubled but still unsure of what she was supposed to be seeing, Hermione turned to Zella for guidance.
Zella lifted her fingertips to her mouth, kissed them gently, and lowered them to her body's blue lips. She rested them there and looked at Hermione sorrowfully.
Understanding for once, Hermione tentatively reached out to touch the body's mouth. With quivering hands she prised the lips apart with the tips of her fingers. What she found repulsed her.
The teeth were all stained with blood, some chipped in a way that showed force had been applied. Beyond this was a dark lump coated in even more blood. Hermione recoiled, her hand over her mouth to combat the vomit that was welling.
Whoever had murdered Zella had also cut out her tongue.
A/N:
Hello everyone. I've updated earlier this time, but with a shorter chapter. The north of England (where I just so happen to live) has been hit was mass amounts of snow. I had two days off from college due to this and, when I wasn't giggling like a five year old with my friends and falling over, I was writing this. Hope you all enjoyed!
So, the mystery deepens a little, hm? Thanks so much for your reviews!
Hope you've had a great week! (:
- Momo