Author's Note: As you can all see, my last chapter was rather a mess. See, this is what happens when I rush. Well, this is what happens when I pick up a pen and write in general, but it happens more when I rush. I will go and fix it when I have a chance to.
Morpheusandmuse-I thought I explained it clearly, but when I went back to read it, it turns out I didn't mention it at all. Tom claims Hermione as a possession because if she's a possession, he would have no need to fear her. That's why he went all "caveman" on her, as you said. (Yes, as you've noticed, I kind of left that whole part out. I'll go fix it when I have time.) Thanks for pointing that out to me, though.
Thanks for reviewing! You guys are the best.
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"You were totally making out with him,"
"Abraxas," Hermione hissed, as Slughorn moved over curiously. The teacher clearly heard what Abraxas said and shot Hermione a knowing look. When Slughorn turned around to converse with another student, Hermione made a disgusted face. She would rather die before she started getting dating advices from her potion teacher. This proved to be easily said than done, as Slughorn seemed to go out of his way to make sure that he stuck her nose in her business.
She had felt quite bold during their kiss, but that confidence had vanished quite quickly after she and Tom broke contact. The loss of Tom's body heat made reality crash down on her. She suddenly realized what she was doing, and how the entire Slytherin house seemed to be watching her. Some were astonished, while others were furious. Black wolf-whistled, but Hermione could guess that he was one of the few people who actually supported her. Others, such as Tracey's, weren't quite as nice. Judging by the look on Tracey's face, she would have a very pleasant year from now on.
"What?" Abraxas asked. "I'm telling it how I saw it. You had your mouth on his when I walked in on the two of you." Hermione glared at him. "Look, I'm not angry…well, maybe just a tad, but Tom's not-"
"Who he seems to be, I know," Hermione rolled her eyes. "You've told me this millions of times. If you want to act brotherly, you don't need to do this, you know." She softened her voice slightly. "I know who Tom is. I can look after myself."
"Who says I want to act brotherly?" Abraxas asked, surprised.
Hermione shrugged. "I don't know. Nick told me that." Nick had also added that the brotherly role was his part, and if Abraxas dared to snatch it from him, he wouldn't hesitate to curse him. Hermione saw it fit to leave that part out.
"You talk to Porter about me?"
"Why not? I tell Nick everything important. You're important, aren't you?" Abraxas didn't move. Hermione sighed. "It wasn't that bad. He didn't insult you, if that's what you're worried about. Fine, I won't ever bring you up. Happy?"
Abraxas sighed and looked away. "No, I'm happy that you are talking about me, though…all good things, I hope?" Hermione grinned mischievously at him. "I just don't like Porter. He's…weird."
"Everyone's weird. What makes him weirder than the rest?" Hermione eyed him. "And don't call him Porter. That sounds weird." Because that's not his real last name.
"I'm not going to call him Nick," Abraxas scowled. "We're not friends. And he's weird because," Abraxas shrugged. "He has blue hair. That's not normal."
He didn't really have a choice at that. "You have blue eyes. What's the difference?"
Before Abraxas could reply, Black dropped down in the seat in front of them, shooting Hermione a grin. "Hey Abraxas. Hey Squirtle. Nice lip-sucking skills with-"
"Shut up."
"You know, it's not proper for a lady to publicly display affection," Black said, ignoring her. "Besides, don't you think he's too old for you? Really. He has nine whole months more of experience than you do. Find someone your own age, Squirtle."
"How do you know when my birthday is?" Hermione snapped at him, as Tracey and Walburga came in, most definitely hearing Black's comment. They glared at her, though Walburga was more for the paintball game than her 'public display of affection,' as Black put it. "And Tom's birthday is in December?"
"I told him, actually," someone said smoothly from behind her. Based on Tracey's expression, Hermione knew exactly who it was without even turning around. It also happened to be the person she least wanted to see. "And December 31st, to be precise."
"I wasn't interested," she growled at him, and he sat down, raising his eyebrows at her flippant tone. His fake smile was plastered on his face. "And why do you know when my birthday is?"
"Secrets, Hermione," Tom said, before turning to the girl next to him and saying pleasantly, "Hello, Tracey,"
"Tom," she threw a glare at Hermione, before turning back towards Tom and batting her eyebrows. Hermione determinedly looked away. She had never had this situation before. She had never kissed someone twice…make that three times, and stayed afterwards. Not to mention, she had not ever cared about any of her partners before.
Did she care about Tom? She probably did. Just how much was the question. And it was a really really important question that she needed to know the answer to.
However, she read in a book that she should make Tom's life as hard as possible. The book said that if she ignored him and went on with her life, he would eventually come groveling later. The book also said that she should talk with other boys, and the book promised a positive outcome.
She liked the image of Tom groveling.
Therefore, she vowed to ignore him. However, that was easier said than done. Tom Riddle could be quite persistent at times. The talk with other boys part was easier, so talk to Abraxas and Black she shall.
Tracey was trailing her fingers down Tom's arms, as if to make a show out of it. To make matters even worse for Hermione, Tom was still smiling his ridiculously fake smile, and Hermione found it harder and harder to ignore him. She felt the sudden urge to get up and choke both of them. Scowling, she turned to Abraxas and said, "Let's talk."
Abraxas looked startled, and then his gaze slid suspiciously to Tom and then back to her. He traded glances with Black, who was enjoying the situation way too much for her taste. "Okay," Abraxas said slowly. "What exactly do you want to talk about?"
"I don't know," Hermione said, just as Tracey started squabbling about makeup. Hermione snuck a glance at Tom. She always knew he was a good actor, but he was acting like he truly cared about Tracey and her makeup. Hermione always prided herself with being able to keep her cool—except Tom managed to make her angry more times than she could count—but if Tracey started talking about makeup to her, she wouldn't hesitate and huddle in a corner and cry.
There was a reason they weren't best friends.
Abraxas seemed to sense her dilemma, even if she didn't know what it was. Why was ignoring Tom so hard? He cast her an understanding look, which informed Hermione that there was indeed something wrong with her. "Are you going anywhere for Christmas break?" he asked. "You could come over."
"I would love to," Hermione said, trying to speak as loud as possible so that Tom could hear. It didn't work. Tom just kept smiling at Tracey, and Black snorted when he saw her gaze wander to Tom. "But I don't think your family will be too family to see me."
"My family?" Abraxas looked genuinely surprised. "Why wouldn't they be happy to see you?"
"Is he usually this ignorant?" Hermione asked Black, who snickered. Abraxas looked confused. "Abraxas, in case you didn't notice, your family kind of hates me."
"Hate you?" Abraxas asked, blinking. "Why would they hate you?"
"Uh, Gabriel? Your parents? Cruciatus? Ring any bells?" Hermione raised her eyebrows at him.
"Since when did the Cruciatus affect you?"
"You're missing my point." Hermione sighed.
"What is your point, then?" Abraxas pressed.
Hermione shot a glance at Black, who just shrugged. "Can't help it," he grinned cheekily. "He's always been rather stupid." He barely dodged Abraxas's hand. "Look what you've done. You've turned him in to a violent person."
Hermione scowled at him, and Black laughed. "I would invite you over, Squirtle, but I doubt you want to spend two months in the same building as Wallie." Walburga, hearing her nickname, shot her cousin a glare, but Black waved her off. "Not to mention, it's not really my place to invite you over," Here, he looked rather uncomfortable. "Wallie's parents are…let's just say they make Abraxas's family look like an angel."
"Gabriel is an angel," Abraxas said absentmindedly to himself.
"So you're saying they were prejudice." Hermione said slowly. Her eyes locked with Black's. "What about you, then?"
"Me?" An apologetic look crossed his face. "Sorry, but it seems like it runs in the family."
She herself had never been prejudice. Her father, maybe, but for her, targets were targets. She didn't care about the blood status, so long as she got the job done. "Then what about me, then? I'm not pureblood." She raised her eyes to meet his, challenging his. "Are you going to drop me one day?"
"You?" Black asked, his eyes wide with shock. "Why would I do that?" He paused as the realization hit him, and looked away sheepishly. It must've been the first time Hermione had ever seen him embarrassed, other than the time they talked about Violetta together. "You're different."
"Am I?" Hermione raised an eyebrow. "How so?"
"You got Abraxas to like you, didn't you?" Black replied, grinning at his friend. Abraxas rolled his eyes. "That's quite a feat. Abraxas doesn't like people often. You should feel honored."
"How's Eleanor?"
Black chuckled as Abraxas paled slightly, staring at Hermione as if she had grown two heads. "What about her?" Hermione noticed that his words were rather forced. She also noticed that his cheeks were taking in a bit of color.
She smiled sweetly at him. "I don't know. Why don't you tell me?"
Black shot his friend a suggestive grin, and Abraxas seemed to want to shrink back in his chair and disappear. He was clearly not pleased with this sudden spotlight. "No. There's nothing." Then, he added quietly to himself, "Martin would kill me."
"Why would my brother kill you?" A voice behind them asked, causing Abraxas to jump five feet in the air. Eleanor sat herself down gracefully in to the chair next to Black, who winked and slung his arm playfully over her shoulder.
"Hey El," Black grinned. He seemed to have a nickname for just about everyone. Eleanor gave him a small smile. "How was the paintball game?"
"Perfect," Eleanor looked at Hermione. "You got nice aim."
Hermione blinked. The girl had hardly spoken to her before, much less been nice to her. But her previous statement sounded like a compliment to her. "Thanks."
"Abraxas can back me up," Eleanor looked him, and Hermione didn't miss the little smile the two of them shared. "She was jumping off walls and dodging like a ninja. You ever think about joining the Quidditch team? We could use people like you."
Hermione laughed. "No, you should see me fly. I crash in to everything." And then, against her better judgment, she added under her breath, "Plus, I need to keep up with my studies." Black and Abraxas both heard her, and smirked.
Eleanor, apparently, didn't hear or chose to ignore it. "We can work with that," she said. "Nobody's perfect. We can get you up and flying in no time. There's a reason we won the Quidditch team last year. We're all great teachers."
"I'm afraid of heights." She wondered if it was wise to toss around her weakness like that, but she highly doubted that it was her biggest problem. If someone dropped her from the empire state buildings, there would be other things she had to worry about.
"Ah. Can't do anything about that," Eleanor glanced at her. "So, what's up with you and Tom? I didn't see it coming."
Hermione turned and glared at the back of Tom's head. He was still in a deep conversation with Tracey, who had saw fit to place herself in his lap. And him, being ever the womanizer, did nothing to stop her. Hermione clenched her fist angrily, and then calmed herself down before she turned back around. "No one did."
"How long do you think you'll last?"
"Eleanor!" Abraxas said, narrowing his eyes. Eleanor simply shrugged, though her eyes informed Hermione that the girl was still quite curious. Black seemed to be leaning forward too much for just a mild curiosity.
"I don't know," She looked back at Tom, who was now massaging Tracey's arms gently with his. "I think Tom will answer that question better than I can."
Fortunately for Tom, he is saved from Eleanor's immense curiosity when Slughorn went to the front of the room, humming cheerfully. Tracey is forced to return to her seat, and Slughorn shot Tom a suspicious glance. It didn't take brains to know that some of the rumors regarding Tom and her had made its way to Slughorn's ears, and Tom was going to get a lecture from the potion professor that cheating on Hermione was not the right way to go.
Though not all of them are rumors.
Halfway through Slughorn's lecture, she felt a hand gently push itself in to hers. She frowned. She had never pegged Tom for the romantic type of guy who would take a girl to a nice diner and hold her hand while they were eating. She removed his hand, only to find it came back a few seconds later. When she looked at him, he was still taking notes, giving Slughorn his full attention. She did, however, spot a small smirk appear on his face. She ignored him and went back to taking notes.
The next time she felt his hand, she pinched him. He flinched slightly, but was either extremely stupid or just ignored the pain as his hand came again. This time, she grabbed it roughly and slammed it against the desk.
She underestimated her strength. Tom noticeably winced, and the sound echoed in the room, drawing everyone's eyes over to her. Slughorn had stopped talking and was looking worriedly at his star student, who was examining his hand carefully. Tracey stood up, but a loud throat clearing from Slughorn forced her to sit back down, grumbling in the process.
"Oh no," Tom said, drawing all the attention to himself. He was staring at an imaginary mark on his hand. "I think I may die of blood loss."
Hermione almost snorted. He was hardly harmed, and there was definitely no blood present. However, Slughorn said immediately, "Please go to the infirmary, Tom. I would hate to see you hurt." The rest of the class bobbled their heads in agreement.
"Thank you, Professor," Tom nodded his head politely and stood up. Hermione stared at him, rather bewildered. What was he going to do, show Pomfrey his perfectly fine hand? Or was he actually ditching class? He then turned and looked at her ruefully. "May Hermione accompany me?"
Tracey actually growled, but Slughorn didn't notice. "Of course. Wouldn't want you to faint on the way, m'boy. Miss Granger," Slughorn looked expectantly at her. Of course she couldn't argue; he was determining her grades, after all. Grumbling slightly and ignoring all the curious glances and one furious glare coming from Tracey, she followed Tom out of the potions classroom, eyeing him suspiciously. He gave her no response other than his usual smirk.
They walked along together quietly at first, though it was quite obvious that they were not going to the infirmary. It was the opposite direction, after all. And he didn't seem keen on telling her where they were going either.
"Tom Riddle, ditching class?" She mocked. He didn't turn around, but she knew he heard her. "That just taints your perfect reputation, doesn't it?"
"I was under the impression that you weren't talking to me."
"Well, I was under the impression that we were okay with each other," Hermione said crossly. "Fat load of good that did me."
He sounded amused, though he never did turn his head once to look at her. "Jealous?"
"Hardly," Hermione scorned, but mentally slapped herself for sounding just like Tracey. She should never be jealous. Being jealous would officially put Tom on top of her. "Why would I want a bimbo attached to my lap? I feel quite bad for you, actually."
Tom suddenly stopped and turned around, his eyes blazing. "What's wrong with you?"
"What's wrong with me?" Hermione asked angrily. "Like you have the right to talk. I didn't even make a dent on your perfect skin, and you claim you're bleeding to death?" She shook her head. "Slughorn is stupider than I thought."
Tom smirked, but turned back around and continued walking. "Careful, Hermione." He mimicked her. "What if a teacher heard you? That just taints your perfect reputation, doesn't it?"
"My reputation is far from perfect," it was out her mouth before she had a chance to process what she was saying. "I wouldn't be surprised if I was known as the girl who was snogging you."
Idiot. Why did I bring it up?
He determinedly ignored her. Hermione sighed. Fine, he wanted to play it that way. Why did she care? He was just a boy. Her life wasn't going to end with a small rejection. He rejected her the first time, and she had dealt with it, hadn't she?
"Alright then," she said slowly, stopping. He stopped as well, but didn't turn back around. She didn't even recognize where they were anymore. Where had he been trying to take her, anyway? Did he want to dump her in the most secret place in the castle? "I'm sorry for disturbing you. I'll just go back to potions. Wouldn't want to disturb you and your…er...bleeding." She started walking the way that they had came.
She barely made it five steps.
He had her pinned against the wall, not quite touching her but not giving her room to escape either. They seemed to find themselves in this position quite a lot. Hermione looked around, but there was no one to come to her aid. "Let me go, Tom."
"Not until you tell me what this is about."
Hermione didn't know whether to laugh or slap him for being so stupid. "You kissed me."
"Yes."
"Abraxas and the others saw."
"Yes."
"So? You're okay with this? Or are you just going to pull Tracey in to your lap again when you get her alone? Just so I have a heads up."
Tom narrowed her eyes. "Like you weren't doing the exact same thing to Abraxas."
Hermione's jaw dropped open. "I was not!"
Tom said nothing, but the accusation was written on his face. She had never pegged him to be one with jealousy fits like this, but then again, she had never thought she would've kissed him either. It seemed like the two of them were more unpredictable than she had thought.
"Tom," Hermione said, rather irritated now. He was still leaning over her. Did he realize that she could be spending the time doing more productive things, like studying? Or maybe this was his ploy to get her away from Ancient Runes so he could beat her again. "I was not sitting in Abraxas's lap. Let me go."
"Shut up."
He was clearly deep in thought, though Hermione raised her hands to shove him off of her. He threw them at the wall, and Hermione grimaced, sure that she was the one bleeding now, not him. Then, he seemed to make up his mind and kissed her hard.
Hermione tried to shove him off of her. If he thought he could get away with explaining everything with a kiss, he was terribly mistaken. However, he didn't budge, and the feeling of his lips were nice, so Hermione surrounded herself to it. She registered in the back of her mind that if a teacher were to come by, they would get in serious trouble. However, she couldn't bring herself to care at the moment. It was just Tom.
Of course, when he ended it, she smacked him as gently in the face as she could and stalked off. However, she felt a small grin appear on her face.
Father would be so disappointed.
At that moment, Hermione didn't care.
ஐ
Snow came early that year. There was no hidden meaning in it. The snow just started falling in November rather than December, which delighted many of the students who had never seen snow before.
Hogwarts was set in to the holiday mood. Snow hung from the ceilings, and Slughorn could even be seen walking around in his Santa Clause costume, handing out little candies to everyone. The other teachers didn't try quite as hard, but the festive atmosphere was clearly in every class she went to.
Snow meant good. Snow meant curling up in a ball in the library and studying. Hermione's brain often processed things better when it was cold. Eileen sometimes joined her, and despite the overwhelming evidence that pointed her to being the spy, Hermione couldn't 100% believe her to be the spy anymore. She was still suspicious, just not completely sure any more. However, Nick was furious with her when she told him, refusing to talk to her for a week.
When he finally did, it was because Eileen invited him to go shopping. When he refused, she relentlessly asked until one day he was out of excuses. Hermione had stepped in, saying that they had a project to finish together. Eileen grudgingly bought it, and Nick felt indebt to Hermione for finally chasing her away.
Though if it weren't for you, she wouldn't even be chasing after me in the first place, Nick reminded her.
Unfortunately, her excuse meant that she had to spend her precious afternoon in the Gryffindor common room. She was only going to talk to Nick for a couple minutes, but ended up getting roped down by Ron and Seamus to stay.
"Bloody hell, are you famous?" Ron asked, eyes wide as he eyed the other occupants of the Gryffindor common room. He, Seamus, Nick and her were sitting near the fire place. Lily and her friends were squabbling nearby, and Nick grimaced every time one of them laughed shrilly. They did seem to be shooting her occasional glances.
"No, Ron," Hermione sighed, scribbling something down on her parchment. "It's called house hostility. Have you noticed that none of the looks I've been receiving are particularly pleasant?"
Ron shrugged, but didn't say anything. Hermione recognized the two girls from the Quidditch game sitting on the couch near the door. They were shooting her murderous glares, and Hermione looked away, sighing. She had known what would happen if she got involved with Tom, but seeing these girls hate her just because of that made her want to slap all of them.
Seamus obviously noticed her distress, as he closed his book and stood up, trying to make her stand as well. She didn't budge. "You sound depressed, 'Mione," he said, deciding to address her by a nickname he had made for her. "Let's go outside."
"Outside?" Ron looked at his friend, startled. "Why would we go outside?"
"It's snowing," Seamus remarked cheerfully. "Might as well enjoy it and have a snowball fight." Without waiting for their consent, he announced loudly, "Gryffindor snowball fight outside!"
Nick sighed and started packing up. "We don't have a choice, do we?" He eyed as the rest of the people in the Gryffindor common room file outside. Lily seemed to be bouncing towards him. Nick had explained to Hermione that Lily had officially stopped trying to use him to make someone else jealous, and now regarded Nick as a friend. Hermione knew Nick well enough that he wasn't interested in making friends. Like her, he always thought that having a friend meant having someone else to watch during battle. It was the golden rule of all spies.
Of course, she went and broke that rule.
She found herself outside later, the field dominated by Gryffindor students. They had broken up in to small groups and launched their own games. Hermione raised her eyes at Seamus. "Four people to a snowball fight? Sounds dreadfully boring."
"They'll be more people joining," Seamus said, and then eyed Nick. "I call being on a team with Nick."
Hermione knew it was unfair if she and Nick were on a team together, but she was kind of hoping that was the case. She hadn't fought with Nick in a long time, and while this hardly counted as a fight, they could cover for each other well.
They practiced, of course. She and Nick had borrowed an abandoned classroom, and just fought for the old time's sake. They had used wands and they had just used their bodies and other muggle weapons, and Hermione felt the memories flood back in to her. She always enjoyed the time when she fought with Nick, but they had also never had the opportunity to fight together. They needed four people for that, and she wasn't keen in inviting other people to their fights.
Ron didn't seem to be bothered by the arrangement, because he just shrugged and handed Hermione a snowball. Hermione poked at it, and was disappointed to see it cave in completely. The snow was not good for snowball fights. Paintballing would've been a much better idea.
The game started off rather slowly. After all, how much can four people do? Ron didn't seem to be enjoying himself too much, so Hermione had to watch herself and make sure he was doing alright. Thanks to him, she got pelted in the head by a smug Nick more times than she could count. It wasn't until more people joined and the game got more heated that Ron decided to disappear.
She was about to go look for him when Nick hurled a snowball at her that hit her square in the head. She glared at him, but he grinned cheekily and launched another one. This time, she ducked behind a pile of snow and almost crashed in to Ron.
Guess that saves me the trouble of having to find him.
"Ron!" She exclaimed, looking at him. He was building tiny little snowmen. Eight of them, to be precise. They all had a clump of red-orange yarn on top of their heads. "What are you doing?"
"Building snowmen," Ron said, as if that wasn't completely obvious. Snowballs flew over their heads, but neither of them paid it any notice. "This is my whole family."
Hermione nodded. She had seen a couple of redheads around the school every so often, but it looked like a lot of them were related to Ron.
"That's Mum and Dad." Ron said, pointing to the two snowmen on the far left. "Mum's okay. She's rather annoying at times though. Dad loves muggle artifacts. He's still trying to understand how a telephone works."
Hermione thought of her mother, and had to fight the urge to cry. Ron and her couldn't be more different; if only her father was as harmless as his, immersed in muggle items all day long.
"That's Bill." Ron said. "He's the oldest. Next to him is Percy the prat." He didn't elaborate, and Hermione didn't ask. "Those two are Fred and George. You've probably seen them around. They're pranksters."
She had, in fact. She distinctively remembered them from the Quidditch game where she had gotten hit with the bludger, but that wasn't the last time she saw them. It was kind of hard to miss when they had turned Dumbledore's beard rainbow colored at dinner one day. Everyone was laughing, but it was kind of obvious from the way they held themselves that they were responsible.
She had also noticed that Harry's lookalike hadn't seemed too pleased about that.
"And that's me." Ron pointed to himself, and then said in a more quiet voice, "And that's Ginny."
"You look alike," Hermione said, and then mentally slapped herself. Of course they looked alike; they were snowmen. How different could you make them with just snow and red yarn? Ron didn't seem to notice, and went on working on another snowman.
Ron caught her looking. "That's the friend I told you about," he said quietly. "The person Ginny was dating. The last person to see her alive."
"You told me," Hermione said.
Ron nodded. "He was my best friend."
"I know."
"He still is my best friend," Ron paused. "Though I feel like I'm betraying Ginny by thinking that." This conversation started sounding like the conversation she and Black had shared that night at the Halloween dance.
Hermione sighed. "You shouldn't blame him. When one sees a wizard as powerful as Grindelwald, a person's brain tends to shut down." Believe me, I've had my share of brain-dead moments. "I wouldn't hate him too much. What would you have done?"
"I would've saved Ginny," Ron said bluntly.
"It's not that easy," Hermione reminded him. If it were, she would've saved herself and countless other victims a long time ago. "If he stayed, he might not have gotten away."
Ron let out a frustrated sounded. "I still don't know how he got away."
Hermione frowned. She had been wondering about that too. Her father was slipping slightly, she knew that. He had overlooked Cygnus when he had taken Violetta, after all, but Cygnus was far away. From what she could tell, Ron's friend had been right in front of her father. How on earth did he manage to get away?
"Is it bad?" Ron asked. "Is it bad that sometimes I wish he hadn't gotten away, just so he can prove to me that Ginny was worth dying for for him?"
"Yes," Hermione said. "But it's also selfish for you to wish that your friend had died too."
"You're right." Ron said, looking downwards. "That was selfish."
"Ron?" She asked quietly, wincing slightly as Ron finished building his final snowman only to proceed to smash it with his palm. The cut his best friend had left was so deep, it didn't look like it would ever heal. "Who was this friend of yours?"
Ron blinked, and then said, "His name is—"
"Squirtle!" Hermione groaned as Black's cheerful face appeared above their little snow pile that the two of them were hiding behind. "Making out in the snow. Can't say that sounds particularly comfortable…" he trailed off, and then narrowed his eyes at Ron. "You're not Tom."
"No, I'm not." The emotional moment that Ron had passed away, and he regarded Black with hatred in his eyes. Hermione rolled her eyes. Stupid house rivalry was going to be the death of this school. "What are you doing here, Black?"
"It's none of your business," Hermione couldn't help but be reminded of two kindergarteners bickering. "But if you must know, I was going to save Squirtle's terrible team by joining it. It has nothing to do with you."
Ron looked like her wanted to point out that since he was on Hermione's team, it was technically his business, but he just rolled his eyes. "Whatever." He brushed himself off and stomped away.
Hermione frowned at Black, who was watching Ron join Nick with a glint in his eyes. "That wasn't very nice."
"No one in Slytherin is nice, Squirtle." He looked down at the snowmen in front of her. "Is that what you like to do with your time? Build snowmen with gingers?"
Hermione ignored his latter comment. "I'm nice."
Black snorted, but before he had a chance to retort, Tom's face appeared next to his. She had to admit she liked it when it was slightly red. It made him look slightly less…evil. He grinned at her, and she returned the smile.
"Hey, what are you doing down there, sitting by yourself?" He noticed the snowmen and made a face. "My snowmen are better."
"Do you have to turn everything in to a competition?" Hermione growled at him, still sore at the memory that every time they had competed, she would always tie at best. It was frustrating. She didn't spend so many years to work on getting the top spot just to be kicked down by Tom. "And Ron made these. Not me."
"In that case," Tom took out his wand and flicked it casually. Instantly, they were all flattened in to pancakes. "That's much better."
Hermione glared at him. "Ron spent a long time on those." She said, but he didn't seem to care. "That was rude."
"If Weasley needs to spend a long time to make snowmen like that, he is clearly in the wrong year," Tom said simply. "And if he didn't want me to destroy them, he shouldn't have left them here." He caught Hermione's murderous look and chuckled, offering her a hand. She glared at it and stood up herself.
"Where are the others?" Hermione asked, glancing around. By now, the field was filled with students. While she saw a couple of house unity situations, most of the houses decided to steer clear of the others. She also saw how many of the girls were trying to get up the nerve to ask Tom to play with them. Tom paid them no attention.
"Cygnus and Violetta are in the library with Eileen." Hermione frowned. Cygnus and Violetta were not known for being in the library. She was going to have to ask them about it later. Tom turned to Black. "I couldn't find him either."
Black swore loudly, and Hermione looked at him. "Who?" She demanded. "Who can't you find?"
"Abraxas," Black said, gritting his teeth. Hermione felt herself go cold, and she was pretty sure it wasn't because of the weather. "I haven't seen him since breakfast, ever since he ran away after telling me there was something important that he needed to investigate."
"Eleanor." Hermione said. "What about her? The two of them could be together."
Black shook his head. "No, El's over there," He pointed to where Eleanor was firing snowballs at Avery and Lestrange, both with scowls on their faces. "She's been waiting forever to do that. I bet she's forgotten that Abraxas even exists." It did seem to be the case. Eleanor had a wild expression on her face that Hermione had never seen her wear before.
Hermione frowned. She hadn't seen Abraxas either, but she had rushed over to talk with Nick right after breakfast. She hadn't seen anyone else, to be honest. Abraxas had seemed fine before then. Either he had turned in to an extremely good actor, or she was getting worse at reading people.
A scream met her ears.
Everyone dropped their snowballs hastily and looked over at the girl running on to the field. It was the girl from the Quidditch game, the girl with the purple streak in her hair. She was crying, which was ruining her makeup, but Hermione doubted that the girl cared at the moment. She collapsed in to the snow. She was wearing no gloves, so her hands must've been freezing. She looked rather blue as well.
Dumbledore, whom Hermione didn't even notice was outside, sank down next to the crying girl. The other teachers, Slughorn and some others she didn't recognize, also made their way over. The students crowded around her as Dumbledore put a reassuring hand on her back. No one said anything as Dumbledore tried to quite her down.
"Miss Belby, please calm down," Dumbledore said, though the girl kept crying harder. Hermione suddenly noticed that the girl was coughing as well, though it sounded weird. She looked around, but it seemed like no one else noticed it. "What happened?"
"They got her!" The girl, Erica Belby, shrieked. She seemed to be hysterical. Hermione narrowed her eyes and leaned in, making sure to catch every word that the girl said. "They. Got. Her." She sobbed pitifully. "Make them give her back."
"Who?" This was from Slughorn, whose brow was furrowed. "Who is this, and what happened to her?"
"Daisy!" Hermione recognized the name as the Asian girl who was always together with Erica. Hermione glanced at Erica suspiciously. She had just seen the two of them in the common room before they had come outside for a snowball fight. The two of them had been perfectly fine, glaring holes in to Hermione's head.
"What happened to Miss Chang?" Dumbledore's voice was soft and soothing, though there was an alert look on his face. Like everyone else, they knew that there was something seriously wrong with Daisy. Enough to make Erica cry like this.
"She's DEAD!" Erica screamed, and then wailed loudly. Hermione stiffened immediately, and collective gasps could be heard around the group. "They killed her! She's dead."
Her body began twitching uncontrollably, and Hermione eyed her suspiciously. It didn't seem to be the normal symptoms of grief. What if Daisy's killers had gotten to Erica as well? The professors moved forward to calm her down, but one student in the crowd piped, "Who was it? Did you see their face?"
"Yes," Erica gasped, trying hard to breath now. The teachers tried to get her to stop talking, but Erica would not shut her mouth. "It was…it was…" She wailed loudly once more, and then said one more word that made Hermione stop cold. "Malfoy."
She fainted.
Dumbledore felt her neck and announced that the girl was still alive. The professors carried her off. Some of the students scurried after them, others chattered among themselves. Nick shot her a worried look, but was dragged off by Seamus.
She, Tom and Black, however, still stood in the same place, in shock. Because while she knew Tom was perfectly capable of murder, and she herself was perfectly capable, their names had not been the one that came out of Erica's mouth.
Malfoy, Erica had said.
Abraxas.
ஐ
"How's Orion holding up?"
Hermione looked at the girl next to her. She still had no idea how Eileen had roped her in to spending time together with her. She wasn't Daisy's killer, that was for sure, as Cygnus and Violetta both testified that Eileen was with them at the time of the attack.
However, even though Erica had mentioned Abraxas's surname, Hermione still couldn't accept the fact that Abraxas was the killer. While she knew he had strong house rivalry feelings, he wasn't going to kill one of them.
"As well as he can," The thing that made Hermione the most suspicious was the fact that Abraxas had seemed genuinely confused when Black refused to talk to him. When no one would explain to him, he got rather frustrated and starting yelling. Black did not take that well.
Abraxas was found in his room, where he was locked there until further questioning. His dorm mates were allowed to visit him, while advised to keep their wands out at all times. Abraxas had been stripped of his wand. There were guards outside his room, which, is possible, made the other students even more nervous.
"He'll get over it."
"I sure hope so," She grimaced as she heard yelling coming from the dorm next to theirs. "I'm going to go check on them." She was still skeptical about spending time with Eileen, thanks to Nick and all his suspicions. Eileen, on the other hand, had decided that sticking herself to Hermione was the best course of action. Nick had retaliated, of course, by declaring Hermione needed a personal bodyguard. So Hermione spent the past few days with two rather annoying people bickering with each other. She could not study in the library, she did not have privacy in her room. She spent hours in the bathroom with a book in her lap, trying to block out the fighting from Eileen and Nick outside.
Eileen waved her away, not even looking up from her book.
At first Hermione had thought that it was because of her father. She had contacted him, asking if her weekly letters weren't enough. He replied that they were never enough, but made it clear that he wasn't the one that killed Daisy. He seemed to have no knowledge prior to the incident, which worried Hermione greatly.
Was there another spy at Hogwarts who was working for another person? This greatly troubled Hermione. She couldn't even deal with her father and his pesky tricks. There was no room for another spy to arise. She couldn't deal with all of them.
Hermione stepped in to the boy dormitory without knocking. Black was yelling at Abraxas, who was yelling back. She noticed that the two of them sat quite far away from each other. Cygnus was trying to block out the sound and was reading a book, giving an occasional eye roll, but even he was scooting away from Abraxas. Tom was nowhere to be seen.
They stopped arguing when they saw her standing there, before Abraxas let out a sigh of relief. "Hermione, thank Merlin you're here," he said. "They won't believe me when I say I was in my dorm yesterday."
"You weren't," Black growled. "I looked up there. It was empty."
"I was there! You found me here." Abraxas protested, looking pleadingly at Hermione. When she said nothing, a panicked look appeared on his face. "I even waved to you. Didn't you see it?"
"No." Black growled. "I can't believe you keep making excuses." He added something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, "I can't believe I trusted you." It was evident by the look on Abraxas's face that he had heard his friend's comment.
"Why does it matter where I was?" Abraxas asked. "Did something happen?"
Hermione blinked slowly, and then turned to Black. "He doesn't know?"
"Of course he knows. He's just playing dumb."
Abraxas shook his head, but if he really was the killer, he would give Tom a run for his money in the acting department. "I don't know. All I know is when you came up here, when I was in the dorm, no less-"
"You could've easily left and came back," Black glared, but Abraxas ignored him.
"You were yelling at me. You've been yelling at me for the past ten hours. I haven't gone anywhere, and naturally, you don't seem to feel like doing anything but yell at me, so I don't know what's going on." He was glaring daggers now, and Hermione had a slight suspicion that some of his anger was directed towards her for not standing up for him. "And I will never know unless you tell me."
Black clenched his teeth. "A killer always remembers his crimes."
Abraxas paled. "Who died?"
"Daisy Chang," Cygnus spoke up for the first time. He was still reading his book, though his eyes were sharp and alert. "Her friend, Erica Belby, told us about it. She was able to spit your name out before she fell in to coma."
"She said my name?" Abraxas looked shocked. "B-but I didn't even go near her. What motive could I possibly have for killing her?"
"Oh, I don't know," Black rolled his eyes. "Maybe the fact that you're in Slytherin and she's in Gryffindor?"
Abraxas's jaw dropped. "That doesn't mean I want her dead!"
"Victims don't just spit out names just because they feel like it," Black shot back. "If you can't explain why Erica Belby decided to name you as the killer, you better come up with a story. Fast. They're interrogating Gabriel right now. It's only a matter of time before they get here."
"Gabriel?" Abraxas perked up. "So Erica Belby didn't actually say my name?"
"Your surname," Black answered. "But seeing how Gabriel had an alibi while you don't is a good reason to put a majority of the suspicion on you."
"I can't believe you," Abraxas muttered. "I can't believe you'd turn on me just like that."
"Well, maybe if you told me where you really were last night, then I'd hear you out. But since you decided to lie to me, you don't deserve my time." Black's eyes flared up. "I trusted you, Abraxas."
Abraxas looked hurt, and Hermione cut him off before they could start another argument. "You said Gabriel has an alibi?" Hermione asked, looking at Black. He nodded. "Who was he with?"
"The usual. Wallie, Avery and Lestrange."
Hermione raised her eyebrow. "They're not particularly trustable figures, are they?"
He was in her face in a second. "Listen up, Granger," he didn't use her nickname, and the smoldering glare he was giving her was enough to inform her that he was angry. "Wallie is my cousin, and she's perfectly trustable. You insult her one more time, and I'll make sure you won't ever be able to again." He slammed the door on his way out.
"He doesn't mean that," Cygnus sighed, tucking his book away. He was tense, though, as tense as he had been with Violetta had been kidnapped. "Though I'd really appreciate if you didn't go around insulting people." His voice was calm, but his door slam was not.
Great. She had managed to piss off two people. She turned back to look at Abraxas, who had a faraway look in his eyes. She sat on Black's bed; not because she was afraid that proximity would allow him to kill her, because she doubted that Abraxas could kill her even if he tried. She wanted to give him some space.
She suddenly wished she hadn't. He punched the wall and let out a low cry, before falling back on to his bed, clutching his hand. Even from the distance, Hermione saw it turning red.
"Abraxas!" She yelled, crossing the room in large strides. She forgot about her resolve to stay away from him and instead picked up his head. He winced, but with a couple of wand waves from Hermione, he could move his hand again. "Don't do that. Man versus wall always results in the wall winning."
Abraxas made an incoherent sound.
"Where were you yesterday?"
Abraxas sighed. "I meant it when I said I was in my room. You can use legilimency or veritaserum on me if you would. I even waved to you, and you waved back." Abraxas frowned. "Don't you remember?"
Hermione racked her brain. She only remembered spending time with Ron and his snowmen, then getting interrupted by Tom and Black. She had never once looked towards the castle. Also, didn't Black and Tom also tell her that Abraxas was missing? If she had seen him, she would've told the other two.
Hermione shook her head.
"You don't?" Abraxas asked in disbelief. "Please tell me you're not trying to get me convicted. Please." He looked to be on the verge of tears. He looked nothing like the boy she had met at the manor a couple months ago, whose cool demeanor could freeze over anything. Her father would've been disgusted by such a display of weakness. Hermione, however, felt a sympathy within her stir up.
"I'm not," She said. "I promise I'm not."
"You don't trust me, do you?" Abraxas said. "God damn it," He looked like he wanted to punch the wall again. When he spoke, there was a new bitterness in his voice. "So much for the loyalty I thought I had."
"They're just confused," Hermione tried. She had never been good at comforting. Nick had never needed comforting. When he cried, she cried. Hermione highly doubted her bursting in to tears right now would do Abraxas any good. "Give them some time. I'm sure they'll come around."
"And you?" Abraxas turned his blue eyes towards her, piercing in to hers. "Do you trust me?"
She thought about lying to him, but thought he deserved as much. "I don't know what I think." She said quietly, and Abraxas accepted her answer. None of the facts added up, plus the fact that Abraxas seemed to be convinced that indeed he was in his room the whole time troubled her. He had even claimed she had noticed him, but she remembered no such thing.
"I guess this is it," Abraxas said, his voice dull. All the life seemed to go out of his eyes, and Hermione realized just how much her last statement hurt him. "I'd say it's been nice knowing you, but it's obvious you don't feel the same."
"Abraxas, what are you saying?" Hermione asked him, her eyes opened wide. She was rather bewildered.
"I'm going to Azkaban," Abraxas said simply, as if he were talking about the weather. "It's kind of like Black says. I have no alibi, my name was named by a girl who is currently in coma, and all proof is pointing towards me." He shuddered, his eyes looking at something far away. "Do you think the dementors are scary?"
"No," Hermione shook her head. "Abraxas, something isn't right. I-I'll investigate. Don't give up yet." She regretted her statement earlier about how she didn't trust him. She wished she could take it back. She hadn't meant that she gave up on him. She meant that she wasn't going to point any fingers until she gathered more information.
Abraxas shook her head and gave her a small smile. "It's too late, Hermione." He got up and left, his cloak swirling behind him. Outside, the guards notice that he's up, and point their wands at him. He follows obediently.
It isn't until later that she realizes that Dumbledore prevented him from going to Azkaban. The professor argued that he was too young, and Hermione let out a sigh of relief. He was going to a small jail in Gringotts, guarded by at least twenty five goblins at a time. Not that that was much better, but she would take goblins to dementors any day.
She also learns that when Dumbledore looked through Abraxas's memories, he found the exact memory that Erica had been talking about. Abraxas standing over Daisy, a knife stained in red in his hands.
ஐ
"You spend way too much time here."
Hermione didn't even look as her companion sat down in the chair next to her. Her eyes were focused on the unconscious form of Erica Belby. "I can't help it. I can't wait for her to wake up." She eyed him curiously. "What are you doing here?"
"It's my job as a prefect, of course," Tom offered, though Hermione suspected it was more than that. When Tom glanced at Erica, there was no emotion on his face at all.
"It's not your job," Hermione pointed out. "It's Gryffindor Prefect's job." She recalled had Minerva had come in to the room a lot of times, sobbing about Daisy and Erica. Lily had often come in with her, and while Minerva had tried to be nice, Lily had announced her hatred for Abraxas, right in front of Hermione.
It just broke Hermione's heart when she went down during a Hogsmeade trip. Black and Cygnus had refused to come with her, and even though Tom wanted to come, he was roped away by Tracey. Tom and Hermione had come to an agreement, which was more like granting Tom more privileges since the agreement did not benefit her at all. She would try not to kill Tracey, and he would try not to lead her on. He was not supposed to do that, anyway, but Hermione let it slide.
When Slughorn asked if the two of them were dating, Hermione shook her head and told him that she was too much of an emotional wreck at the moment. It was partly true, and he didn't need to know that she also devoted much of her energy to find out who had determinedly framed Abraxas. His memory was not good enough to convince her. Someone could've tampered with it.
When she had gotten down to Abraxas's cell in Gringotts, she saw him chained and sitting idly, staring at the wall. His blonde hair was a wreck, and his clothes were ripped. She called his name, and his eyes seemed to go straight through her. Hermione had a mini heart attack, worrying that he had lost his mind.
She sat with him until his eyes were back to normal. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse. "Hermione," he croaked. "You came to see me." The small smile he gave showed her just how much he appreciated her visiting.
"You know I would," She said quietly. "That day, in the dorm, I didn't mean that I didn't trust you-"
"Shh," Abraxas shook his head and looked away. "It's okay. I forgive you." His eyes dulled again, and he looked down at his hands. "Do you forgive me?"
"There was nothing to forgive." Hermione promised him. "I'll go find the person who framed you, Abraxas. And I'll bring you back to Hogwarts. I promise. I'm investigating right now, so don't give up."
Abraxas chuckled, and then coughed rather violently. Hermione moved to help him, but there wasn't much she could do when they were separated by bars. "I feel bad for the person, having you investigate." He said. "They're going to get no mercy." He paused and then frowned. "But what if that person is me?"
Hermione was startled. "You don't know?"
Abraxas shook his head. "No. Dumbledore said that there was something with my memory that didn't seem quite right. Now, I don't even know what's real or not. I'm so screwed up," He let out a shaky laugh. "I think I'm going mad."
"No, you aren't," Hermione said. "I can still see Abraxas in you."
Abraxas shrugged. "But only just a little. Even if I do get through this mess, I don't want to go back to Hogwarts anymore. How will I face Black? Cygnus? Tom? Everyone else? I can't."
"Abraxas, you have it wrong," Hermione said as gently as possible. "You don't have to face anyone. It's them who has to face you. You're just the victim of a cruel game between evil forces. That's all."
"What about you?" He looked at her. "Do you believe me now?"
"Abraxas, I always trusted you," She said. "I knew you before Black or Tom or Cygnus. I just needed a little reminding, that's all. Now, since I have to leave soon, why don't we talk about Quidditch?" His eyes instantly lit up, and although she had no interest in Quidditch at all, she listened through Abraxas's chattering, happy to hear a piece of his old self.
When she left him, she promised she'd be back as soon as she could. Abraxas had seemed a lot happier, and Hermione had managed to give him a book about Quidditch. The guards had declared it harmless enough, so Hermione left her friend to read in peace.
"You've been out of it as well," Tom was saying, snapping Hermione out of her memory. "It's no fun like this. I gain nothing over my victories over you now."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "A win is a win."
"Yes, but if you're not your usual self, there's no point in winning." Tom sat back in his chair. "If I wanted to compete against a bunch of dunderheads, I have this whole school to choose from."
Hermione giggled softly at Tom's choice of nicknames, and then looked down at Erica. "How long do you think till she wakes?"
"I don't know," Tom shrugged. "I doubt even Pomfrey knows."
"It's just, I want to make sure it wasn't Gabriel that Erica was talking about," Hermione frowned. "Sure, he has an alibi, and there's been nothing strange happening to him in the past few weeks, though I don't think Walburga and Avery and Lestrange count as good eyewitness." She looked at him. "No offense."
"None taken." Tom stared at Erica, before saying, "It wasn't Abraxas."
Hermione was surprised. "How do you know?"
"Well," Tom said, his trademark smirk back on his face. "How do you think I trained all of them? If Abraxas really did kill that girl, he would've been much more subtle about it. Certainly not to the point where the incident was clearly in his memories. If he really did leave that much evidence, he should be worrying about what I'll do to him."
"Oh really," Hermione deadpanned. She was surprised that Tom showed his evil side so leisurely when Dumbledore could've been right outside the door. "So you go with the argument that if Abraxas really was the killer, there would be no evidence left behind at all?"
"Of course," Tom looked offended. "I am the world's greatest teacher, after all. Abraxas learns from the best."
Hermione snorted. "How do you explain Avery, then?"
"I'm not teaching Avery," Tom said offhandedly. "I don't see the point in spending much effort in a lost cause. I only use him because his father can get me in to high places." Tom smirked at her. "So curse him all you want."
Hermione was rather surprised that he was sharing all this with her. "Thanks for your permission, your highness," she said dryly.
"You're welcome," He smirked. "What about you? Anything I should know about?"
She knew that he was referring to her life, but she decided to pretend she misunderstood his question. "Oh, Abraxas is not the killer," she said. "I'm trying to find out who it is."
Tom raised his eyebrows. "And why are you so sure?"
"Because I am." Hermione said stubbornly.
Tom stared at for her a couple more seconds, before laughing. "And you called my reason weak." He said, and Hermione scowled at him. "You sound like a kindergartener."
Hermione decided to ignore him. "So will you?" She asked. "Will you come with me to try to figure out who's trying to frame Abraxas?"
His eyes were twinkling mischievously. "And what do I get out of this?"
"Abraxas coming back?"
"Nice try, Hermione," he smirked. "Not tempting enough. Maybe a little piece of information on your past?"
"No," Hermione said, and he had an amused look on his face. "I don't need your help to find the framer. I offered you out of the niceness of my heart." This earned her a snort from Tom. "Fine. If you don't want to, you can turn me down quite easily."
"Miss," There was a voice from outside. "Miss, you can't go in there right now—"
The door burst open and a woman with blonde curls and ugly glasses stepped in to the room. Pomfrey was behind her, trying to drag her out, but the woman wouldn't budge. She had her eyes fixed on Hermione and Tom.
"My, my," she said. "Why Mister…" She looked at Tom.
"Tom," Tom said politely, though Hermione could see the suspicion in his eyes. "Tom Riddle."
"Mister Tom Riddle, how very nice to meet you," She cooed, and then turned to Hermione. "Young lady, you know better than to ask him out in the infirmary. There are certainly more appropriate place to be doing this." She sniffed.
Hermione's jaw dropped. "I wasn't asking him out!" She said, narrowing her eyes. Tom smirked, seeming that he decided where this conversation was heading. "And what are you doing here? Dippet said no visitors were allowed."
"I am not a visitor," The woman said, huffing. "I am a journalist. Do you know who I am, young lady?"
Hermione shook her head. She wanted to point out that being a journalist still counted as being a visitor, but instead said, "Nope. Never seen you before." Next to her, Tom snorted.
The woman eyed her in disdain. "I am Rita Skeeter," she announced. "I write stories for the Daily Prophet."
"Never heard of you before either," Hermione replied cheekily.
Rita looked like she wanted to retort, before she turned to her cameraman. "Bozo!" She said sharply, the man pushed Pomfrey aside to get in to the hospital wing. Pomfrey looked like she wanted to run and get Dippet, but didn't know if she should leave the two of them with the journalist.
The man named Bozo took their picture before Hermione could even process what was happening. Hermione's mouth dropped open and she glared at Rita, who was murmuring to herself.
"Your name, young lady?"
Hermione gritted her teeth. "And why should I tell you?"
"I honestly don't see what you see in her, Tom," Rita said. "Her hair's a mess. They ruin my photos." Tom stared back, unmoving. She was grateful that he didn't decide to support Rita's side just to win her over. Rita suddenly stiffened, and then glanced back at her. "You're Hermione Granger, aren't you?"
When Hermione didn't say anything, Rita continued, "Of course you are. I've heard so much about your behavior. I should've recognized you right away."
"Recognized me?" Hermione said, rather baffled. Was it her father? Did word get out that her father was actually Grindelwald?
"Yes. Snobby, ugly, chasing after poor Tom here. You fit all the descriptions." Hermione gritted her teeth angrily. "But resorting to love potions is a no no, young lady. What would the school feel if they heard?"
"I am not using love potions!" Hermione said, but Rita was not listening. She was talking to a large, floating quill behind her.
"She's in denial," Rita said, and the quill wrote something down. "Typical symptoms." Before Hermione could punch her, she asked her next question, "How do you feel about your friend, Abraxas Malfoy? Did him coming off as a killer surprise you greatly? Has he confided in you on his plans?"
Hermione didn't know why she responded to her. "Abraxas is not the killer," she said as calmly as she possibly could. "I would appreciate if you didn't report this. This is personal business."
Rita, of course, ignored her. "While getting over the lost love of her boyfriend, Abraxas Malfoy, she forced herself on Tom Riddle." Hermione stared, trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with the woman in front of her. "Tom Riddle, being the responsible prefect, turned her down. Hermione Granger then thought it was necessary to turn to love potion."
"Who are your sources?" Hermione asked, trying not to look too furious as Bozo was still snapping pictures.
"Miss Tracey Parkinson, of course," Hermione groaned. Of course it would be her. Rita sniffed. "She has informed me of many more of your improper behaviors, Miss Granger. I will make them come to light one by one."
And I'll have my father murder you slowly! Hermione thought angrily. Strike that, I'll murder you myself.
"You have fun with that," Hermione snapped at her, dragging Tom with her. Tom seemed happy to comply. While he still had his polite smile plastered on his face, there was a cold edge in his eyes. "Let's go, Tom."
The last thing she heard before slamming the hospital wing door was Rita saying, "Oh my, Miss Granger seems to have problems with rejections. She just doesn't know when to stop, does she?" The quill scratched against the parchment. "Bozo, that is enough. This will make a fantastic article."
