By the time the term started up again, Frances had mostly forgotten about the incident on Christmas Day. They'd spent their remaining days on holiday sliding down snow covered hills on stolen sleds. Draco was in an elated mood ever since he'd found out Granger had been taken into the hospital wing and wouldn't come out for a while. He regularly tormented Weasley and Potter whenever they passed each other in the hallways, the two of them glowering at Draco but saying nothing in return.
The day Hermione left the hospital he was annoyed by her sudden reappearance in all of his classes, and was extra cruel that day. On days like that, she often wished she wasn't friends with Draco. Frances would try to stand behind Draco and look apologetic, but she knew that the person he was tormenting wouldn't see her expression, they would just see her as another one of his cronies. She didn't want to be Crabbe and Goyle, but convincing herself she was somehow any different from them was a tall order. Frances knew she was just a coward.
It was May when the next student was petrified. Frances and Neville were walking out to the stands to watch the Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff match when McGonagall came running through the crowd, with skirts hiked up, yelling, "There's been another attack, return to your common rooms at once!" Neville gave Frances a look of absolute terror, so to comfort him she hooked her arm through his for their walk back to the castle.
The identities of the victims were kept under wraps for several days, but eventually it got out that Penelope Clearwater and Hermione Granger had been the ones petrified. In another bout of bad news, Hagrid had been revealed as the one attacking the students (something Frances felt was incorrect, but she was in no place to dispute) and Dumbledore had been sacked. In Herbology that day, Draco waited until a bereaved Weasley and Potter had walked into the greenhouse when he began talking loudly to Crabbe and Goyle, who flanked him. "I expect class today will be delightfully quiet without Granger today."
Ron and Harry stood across the planters from Neville and Frances. They looked down at their hands, putting on their gloves dutifully, faces screwed up in an attempt to ignore Malfoy. Neville was tensed up uncomfortably next to her, watching their expressions. Malfoy stood at the far end of the planter, diagonal to Frances, but still loud enough that he commanded the room.
"You know what Goyle?" he continued, raising his voice even louder, "I reckon Hagrid got tired of hearing Granger's constant talking. I just wished he'd finished the jo-"
Something in Frances snapped, the same thing that had been shut down in her first interaction with Draco was alive now. It was even more alive than when he had insulted Neville. In a second, she realized why Draco's hatred towards Granger weighed so heavily on her. If Frances had been sorted into any other house, had by some turn of fortune not made a friend out of Draco, she would be Hermione now.
So it wasn't shocking that when she lifted her wand and shouted, "Stupefy!" she did so with such intensity that it shot Draco back hard against the frosted glass of the greenhouse. Even Crabbe and Goyle were moved to the side by the red jet of light that emanated from Frances wand. The ring Draco had given her burned white hot.
In another stroke of bad luck, Professor Sprout walked in just as she had stunned Draco. "Miss Tacet, put that wand away! Go see Professor Snape at this instant!" She rushed over to attend to Draco, who seemed to be entirely unconscious. Both Harry and Ron were looking up, and the latter even seemed to be smiling. "Wicked," he said under his breath as he looked at a crumpled Draco.
Frances awkwardly removed herself from the greenhouse, a manic smile taking over her face, growing with each step. It felt like she had lifted a weight off of her chest, one that had been pushing her into the ground for almost two years. Her shame and self-hatred had all been channeled through her wand and right into Draco.
She reached the dungeons, feeling ecstatic. Frances knocked on the door near the potions classroom: Snape's office. Light footsteps clicked across the stone floor and then the door was pulled open, his long face looking down at hers, immediately knowing that she had done something wrong.
Frances had spent many hours with Snape at this point, both in class and in her private lessons. They'd met every week for the past few months, each time brewing a more complex potion. After they'd finished, he would give her a mountain of homework to complete in preparation for the next week. She had to do this work as well as the work for regular potions class. All this had amounted to incredibly late nights in the library. It was often just her and the sixth years left inside into the early morning.
"Come in, Miss Tacet." Suddenly she was ashamed, how was she going to explain what had happened to Snape. "I assume you are not here of your own volition. What happened?" His voice was cold, although without the disdain that he usually reserved for other students. Frances would hesitate to say he liked her, but he certainly did not hate her.
"Draco was making fun of the students that have been petrified so I stunned him. I think I knocked him unconscious." She looked down at the floor in shame.
He pursed his lips, "Well that was very stupid of you, although my commendations for casting that powerful of a spell. I suppose your teacher sent you so that I would be in charge of your punishment. As it turns out, I have a number of cauldrons that need to be scrubbed."
"Yes, Professor."
He continued, "Since it would probably not be wise for you to go back to class and cause a riot, you can get started on those cauldrons now," he paused. "I don't suppose you have your potions work done early."
"I do, Professor. It's in my bag." She turned and put her bag on the table, sorting through loose parchment and books to locate the several sheets that she had spent hours on the night prior. As she turned to hand the parchment to Snape, her bag, left precariously upright, toppled off the table, its contents spilling onto the floor.
Frances immediately turned to gather her belongings, hastily hastily shoving quills and loose parchment into the canvas bag with a top flap that wouldn't properly clasp shut. Snape strode over and bent down, picking up the book on legilimency she'd had for several months now.
He turned it over in his hand, paging through it. "Are you trying to learn legilimency?" he asked, eyebrows raised.
"Yes, Professor Snape. I haven't had any luck though."
"No, I imagine you haven't. This book is more of a history than a how-to guide. Most fully grown wizards would have a difficult time just using this book. I have a much more helpful book somewhere in here, if you want it."
"Are you a legilimens, Professor?" she asked in disbelief, although it would explain how he seemed to know what all of his students seemed to be thinking.
"I am, Miss Tacet. Would you like my book or not? I promise you'll find nothing in the school's library like it. Our curriculum doesn't include anything as difficult as legilimency, so the library has no need to stock it."
"Y-yes. I would like it," she replied nervously. He went to one of his many bookshelves, closely looking at the spine of each book until he found a small, forest green book with what looked to be an illustration of a brain in worn golden lines. Snape handed it to her and she carefully put it in her bag. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," he replied, expressionless. "Come with me to the classroom, the cauldrons are in there. I must recommend you wear gloves. Some of the potions are particularly toxic, so be careful not to get it on your robes."
She went to the classroom, where she worked for several hours, missing the rest of herbology and even dinner. By the time she had finished she was sore and had a horrible headache from the fumes.
Deciding the hospital wing would probably be a good place to go to for some kind of pain reliever, she trudged slowly across the castle, feeling ripe for a long sleep.
Madam Pomfrey was looking sadly over the frozen bodies of Penelope Clearwater and Justin Fitch-Fletchley. She hardly noticed Frances come in, jumping when she said quietly, "Madam Pomfrey?"
The old woman turned suddenly, eyes for a second full of fear. "Ah, Miss Tacet. You are very quiet."
"Yes, I know. Do you have anything for a headache?"
"I do." She went back into a closet to look for the medicine, leaving Frances near the bodies of her peers. Their petrified figures struck her with paralyzing terror, so she looked at the ceiling instead, taking in only that which was cast in stone and twenty meters above her.
Madam Pomfrey came bustling back out, handing France a foul smelling tonic, which she downed ungracefully, nearly spitting it back out. "It's just as well that you came. One of your victims is here. That stunning spell you hit him with had him vegetative for a few hours. He's been coming around if you want to go to apologize to him."
"Why would I want to apologize to him?"
She looked at Frances with pity, clearly knowing something she didn't, "Well, you certainly want to talk to him, I can see as much for myself. Besides, he hasn't had anyone come to see him and I can only handle so much of his whining. He's just down at the end." Madam Pomfrey pointed to a bed that had a white curtain drawn around it, then she disappeared into what was likely her chambers.
Frances walked gingerly to where Draco was hidden, wishing her feet weren't carrying her independently of her brain. She drew the white curtain back and saw Draco looking coldly at her. Resisting the urge to run, she went inside and closed the white hangings back up behind her.
"Why are you here? I think you're the last person I want to see right now."
"Madam Pomfrey told me that I wanted to talk to you."
He snorted, "Well I should hope that whatever you want to say to me is some kind of apology for what you did."
Frances looked repulsed, "Apologize? Why would I do that, you should apologize for what you were saying."
"Why do you always get so pressed whenever I talk about Granger? The only thing you share with her is your blood status! You're hardly alike."
She threw her hands up in the air, "Well that's my point isn't it? If I weren't friends with you and I got petrified, wouldn't you be making the same kind of jokes. I couldn't possibly be more different than Granger and yet I know you would still say the same things about me!"
"Well if you feel that way then you have to tell me. Your solution to every problem can't just be bottling up your anger for months at a time and then letting it blow up in my face. You have anger issues, Frances. I can't believe I'm the first one to break it to you."
"I don't have anger issues!" She yelled, thankful that the only other people in the infirmary were too petrified to hear her.
He raised his eyebrows as if to say she had proven his point. "Every time you get angry, Frances, you curse someone. You turned my head into a pumpkin, you stuck Goyle to his seat, and now you've put me in the hospital again. Next time just yell at me whenever you get angry, don't hold it down until you snap. I'm tired of being cursed!"
Frances, for a third time that day, felt ashamed. Although her anger towards Draco was still there, she knew he was right. She knew that nothing productive could come from not expressing it.
"I'm sorry." She didn't make eye contact with him, instead looking at the marble floors.
He nodded approvingly, "I know you are."
"You know, I think you have something to apologize for," she said peevishly.
Draco grimaced, but said, "I'm sorry for being insensitive."
"I don't suppose I could get you to say that to Potter or Weasley."
He looked offended, "Can't believe you just said that to me." There's was an awkward, pregnant pause for a moment, Draco looking long and hard at the ceiling, searching for something to say. Eventually he settled on, "Well I guess I'm glad that you came. I was beginning to regret putting that potion in Pansy's drink I was so bored."
Draco had slipped Frances' gift into Pansy's goblet of orange juice the very first day she had returned. It had been startlingly effective, the love seeming to drain from her eyes the moment the concoction touched her lips. She'd showed no further feelings of infatuation for Draco, and the two had become normal friends in the following months.
"Don't jinx yourself, she could be back to following you around the castle with talk like that."
He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. You should probably get back to the dormitories."
Frances looked at her watch. It was close to midnight, she must have spent even longer scrubbing cauldrons than she originally suspected. "If I was going to get petrified, it would be the night I'm walking around in the dungeons at midnight."
"Is it that late?" he asked, concerned. Frances nodded. "Well then sleep in one of the beds here, I can't imagine Madam Pomfrey would care if it meant you didn't get petrified.
"Yeah, you're probably right."
"Bring the bed next to mine inside the curtain," he offered, "It'll be creepy trying to fall asleep with all of those people out there."
She drew the white curtain to the side, casting a quieting charm on the cot as she dragged it across the stone floor until it fit within Draco's curtain. She took off her robes, kicked off her shoes, and just wearing a t-shirt and jeans, crawled under the covers after drawing the curtains back around the two beds. She fell asleep quickly, her body aching from an evening of manual labor. Draco didn't sleep well, but he had started feeling better than he had in a long time.
A few days later, Frances was trying to finish her extra Potions homework when Weasley and Potter sad down across from her at her table in the library.
"Can I help you?" she asked. They'd had some brief interactions in the past when she'd been hanging out with Neville, but she'd never actually had a real conversation with either of them.
"We just wanted to say," Ron started, wearing an unfamiliarly earnest look, "Um…thanks for hexing Malfoy. If you hadn't done it, one of us would've sooner or later… and that might not have been the best for us."
This was certainly not what she was expecting, although she was thrilled to hear someone thank her for what she had done. Frances didn't want to admit that she hadn't stunned Draco for anything but selfish reasons though, so she just said, "Oh, you're welcome. I guess you guys are probably on thin ice after that whole flying car thing." They looked anxious at this, Harry rubbing the back of his neck. "I really am sorry though, for how he acted. I wish I had more control of him, but you know how he is."
"Yeah, we know how he is. But so do you, why are you friends with him?" Harry asked resentfully.
Frances wracked her brain but could only come up with, "I don't know, it seemed easier to make a friend out of him than an enemy. I mean, look how he treats Hermione. Besides, I live with him, how could I escape that kind of abuse?"
"You're definitely not a Gryffindor with that kind of logic." Ron laughed, making a salient point.
She grimaced, "No, Sorting Hat made a good call with that one. At least the attacks are over though, right?"
Both of them rolled their eyes. "Ugh, come on," Harry groaned, "You don't honestly think Hagrid was the heir of Slytherin. Hagrid?"
Frances sighed, "Well I don't have any better ideas, do you?"
In a sudden flash, she saw herself - but she wasn't Frances, she was Ron - sitting in the library, a few meters away on a different night, poring over books with Hermione and Harry, frantically searching for some clue for who the heir of Slytherin could be. She saw the three of them in the second floor bathroom brewing a potion. The awful smell of it reached her nose and shooting her back into her body. With a start, she realized she had just achieved legilimency, somehow without any effort at all. Frances resolved to figure out how that could have happened later. Ron blinked strangely and rubbed his head.
"But… you've been trying to find out, right?" They nodded, a little confused. "Well, if I know Hermione, she would be the one of you to figure it out. She had to have left some kind of clue if she had figured it out. Have you tried looking for something she may have left behind?"
Harry stood awkwardly, "Er, we should go. Thanks again."
They rushed off with purpose, leaving Frances alone again.
Just a few days later, they received the terrible news. Frances was sitting with Draco and Pansy in the common room, taking a well deserved break in the Great Hall for some pumpkin pasties and juice when they heard an awful screaming coming from the halls. The three of them rushed out along with the rest of the students eating, to see the wall outside the second floor girls bathroom covered in blood.
The next minutes were a blur, everyone was gathered and rushed back to their common rooms. The Slytherin Head Girl had been deputized to relay the bad news. They were to be sent home the next day, Hogwarts was to be closed.
Frances was in a daze, entirely unsure of what had transpired. Pansy kept urging her to go to their dormitory to pack their things, but Frances couldn't move her legs. She kept thinking of having to return to the muggle world. What other magical school could she go to? Everything she knew of magic was tied irreversibly to Hogwarts. Without the school she would be lost, without her close friends, without the ability to learn the things that she cared for most.
Suddenly she broke into tears, her face warped and wet. Entirely inconsolable, Pansy tried her hardest for nearly an hour to calm her down, but as Frances wasn't able to explain the root of her anguish, her friend had no idea what to say. Finally, Pansy realized she had better just go up and pack for herself. So Frances was left alone in the common room while the rest of her house packed their things to leave, to go back to their magical families.
Eventually she had cried enough that her eyes entirely dried up. This didn't make her feel any better, it just felt as if she had no way to express her anger without tears. She stayed in the common room all night, not daring to pack one belonging, holding onto hope that this was just a cruel joke.
As the early morning light began shining through the lake and into the common room, filling the space with an eerie greenish glow, Frances began to contemplate packing her things. She decided against it however, thinking she would probably just break down and cry again in the dormitories. Eventually students started trickling downstairs into the common room, muttering amongst themselves. "Do you think they'll let us out to get breakfast before we take the train. I'm feeling rather peckish," she heard one fourth year say nonchalantly. Frances was reminded of how little this must matter to the rest of her house when they had magical families to return to.
Soon, Draco came down the stairs, taking one look around the room and immediately spotting Frances. He walked over to her gravely, sitting in the chair opposite her, "It's okay, there are other wizarding schools."
Frances looked at him through bleary eyes, feeling entirely inconsolable, "I don't want to go anywhere else."
Suddenly the prefect, Donnelly walked in and shouted, "Listen up! I have good news. The monster has been slain, and the Weasley girl rescued. Hogwarts will not be closing." Students cheered, and Frances let out a sigh that had been stuck in her chest for the whole night. Draco wasn't looking at Donnelly, he was looking at Frances, measuring her reaction. "There's more good news. All exams have been cancelled!"
This time the cheers were raucous, loud screams echoing in the stone room. Draco smiled a big toothy grin, looking back at his friend. The rest of the house filtered out of the dungeons to break their fast, but Frances just sat there looking at her hands.
"I expected you'd be overjoyed," Draco said quietly, although his voice felt loud in the sudden quiet of the common room.
Frances replied, "I thought I'd never see my friends again, you an-and Neville. None of my muggle friends, I just can't talk to them anymore knowing what I know, you know? Ugh god, I don't know what to do."
"You could always unpack."
She laughed quietly, "Well, I guess there's one good thing about the meltdown I had."
"What's that?" he asked.
She looked into his eyes and smiled, "I never packed."
He laughed, setting her off into her own fit of it, until they were both in stitches, now unburdened by the news that had come the night before. They didn't go down to breakfast, instead they went down to the lake. They strolled along the shore, looking for the giant squid but not finding it. On any other day they might bicker or debate with such a long time alone, but today they said nothing, opting to look at the blooming flowers along their path. Frances marvelled at the owls circling the owlery, and the strange looking fish swimming in the shallows of the water. After a long while walking around, they spotted a tall, long-haired figure stomping toward them, cane swinging wildly, as if he meant to hit something with it. He came close enough that the sun ceased to backlight him so harshly, allowing Frances to see his face: Draco's father. Draco knew who it was though, he'd known as soon as he'd seen the silhouette.
"Draco, we're leaving!" he ordered as soon as he was within earshot. Her friend shot a nervous glance at her, tense and nervous. Lucius came up to Draco, not seeming to notice Frances at all. "Did you hear me, son? It's time to go, your things have been sent ahead of us." His eyes flicked over to her, almost by accident, but he looked back when he realized he had no idea who she was. He gave her an up-and-down, trying to deduce her identity, finally he said to his son, "Draco, I assume I had taught you better than to associate with filth like her. And you," he was now speaking directly to Frances, "don't let those Slytherin robes fool you into thinking you are equals with my son. If it were up to me your kind wouldn't be allowed to step foot in the castle."
He started to turn away, hand on Draco's shoulder, but Frances blurted out, "Well, can't you do something about it? You're school's governor, have me expelled." As soon as she said it she regretted it. Why would she think that daring someone so powerful would do her any good? She realized however, that the only other thing she might have done was curse him, which would certainly have her expelled. Frances realized, with a level of satisfaction inappropriate considering the situation, that she had finally been able to communicate instead of erupting in violence. She figured she would have to learn not to be so destructive in her communication next time, however.
From Lucius, where she had expected a promise to fulfill her request, she got only gritted teeth and a primal, angry sound in what seemed like an attempt to lob an insult. He turned his son around, an iron grip on his shoulder and marched up the hill, leaving Frances to wonder why her words had grated Mr. Malfoy so much.
