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CHAPTER 3

A Mudblood's wand

It took Hermione almost half a minute to unzip her bag. The Arithmancy exam had taken a full hour, and, when the bell rang, the girl was still shaking with various emotions from everything that had happened in the previous class. She began to put her things away, as slowly as she could to force her body to relax. Her spine felt so stiff that she feared that if she made any sudden movements, it would break.

She felt terribly depressed and listless; her whole body felt heavy, as if the gravity of the classroom had increased, pulling her to the floor. Her throat ached from the effort she was making to hold back her tears, and her head throbbed from the unspeakable effort she had had to make. She had never had such a hard time with an exam, and never, she felt, had she done so badly. Her mind had refused to concentrate, taking longer than necessary to search her brain for the answer to each question, getting stuck when it came to writing, and continually drawing annoyingly blank so that she could draw Draco Malfoy's sharp face in her subconscious. Hermione felt so much hatred for the boy that if she had been in front of him she would have nailed him with her fingernails without hesitation. She was not a violent person, but she felt that she was being tested to become one.

She put the question sheet in her bag without even looking at it. She felt so dejected that she didn't even have the strength to check that she had answered the questions correctly, and she knew that wasn't a good sign.

A black and green robe passing her attracted her attention. Theodore Nott was heading for the door, at a brisk pace, as he reread the question sheet. The girl's heart skipped a beat. She hurried to finally close her bag and sling it over her shoulder before running after him, dodging around the desks and the students who were also heading in that direction.

"Nott!" she called just before he stepped out of the classroom door. He stopped and turned his face in her direction. His expression did not change when he recognised her.

"Yes?" he replied, turning to face her fully. He was only slightly taller than the girl, and very thin. Hermione had heard some of her Gryffindor classmates comment that the boy bore a striking resemblance to a rabbit, and, upon seeing him up close, she couldn't help but agree with them, in spite of herself.

"Could we talk for a moment?" Hermione asked, looking cautiously into his eyes. They were light blue, bright and very pretty, yet sad and distant at the same time. As hard as she tried, she didn't see contempt in them. Only expectation and some wariness. She didn't quite know how to feel about it; he was a Slytherin, a pure-blood, a close friend of Draco Malfoy's, but he wasn't looking at her with open hatred, why?

"Sure," he agreed, walking towards the exit and into the corridor. It was crowded with students comparing the various answers they had given in the exam. Hermione followed him, accepting his invitation to walk together. "Go ahead..."

"I wanted to ask you a question," Hermione confessed, as they walked down the corridor. "Why did you warn us the other day that Neville was in trouble? Malfoy was the ringleader, and even though he's your friend, you ratted him out. Why?"

Nott didn't alter his serious expression, and continued to walk forward with his eyes fixed straight ahead.

"Just because Draco is my friend doesn't mean I have to agree with everything he does. It just seemed to me that he was going too far in torturing Longbottom like that."

"And why did you warn me instead of a professor?" Hermione insisted. She inhaled sharply as she stumbled over the bottom of her robes from walking and staring at the profile of her interlocutor.

"I saw you by chance and decided to warn you. Longbottom is a friend of yours, isn't he? I didn't want to warn a teacher, Draco is my friend after all, you said so yourself. I didn't want to get him into real trouble."

"Yeah, but why did you say that I'm the only one capable of stopping Malfoy? On what basis do you say something like that? You don't know me, we've never spoken before," the girl spat, not bothering to be rude. Nott snorted softly through his nose.

"I know we haven't spoken before, but I know how you behave. I've seen you in Ancient Runes class. You're the only one who sits in your seat, the only one who insists on studying despite the fuss they make, and the only one who protests at what they do. The rest don't dare to stand up to them, but you do. Draco respects you as an opponent."

Hermione, who had listened with her mouth half-open, gave a histrionic laugh at the last part.

"You're joking, aren't you? Malfoy respects me? That's new..."

"I know very well that Draco prefers not to provoke you in Ancient Runes, because he knows you're the only one who can stand up to him and spoil his plans. Look at what happened today. You stood up to him, didn't you?"

"I had no choice," the girl defended herself, feeling a little offended without really knowing why. "He was going too far. Someone had to do it, right?"

"You see? Everyone else knows he's going too far, too, but no one's standing up to him except you," her interlocutor insisted, shrugging. Hermione felt herself growing angry.

"Malfoy doesn't scare me at all. I've put up with him for years, and I know exactly what he's like. But anyway, you can see what standing up to him today has done for me: he's locked me in the classroom and made me late for my exam, and he's probably going to keep behaving the same way or worse," she hissed more quickly, almost to herself. Angry. Feeling her blood boil at the memory of what had happened.

"Oh, so that's why you were late? He locked you in?" he repeated, not the slightest bit flustered.

"Oh, yeah. He locked the door and walked out of there, that cheeky," she let out a heated exhalation. "I started pounding on the door and luckily Filch arrived within minutes..."

"Typical of Draco," Nott muttered, not showing the slightest hint of surprise. Hermione looked dismayed.

"And you say that so calmly?" she sputtered, incredulous. Nott merely shrugged. "You think it's normal for him to do things like that? For people to let him?"

"He's gotten out of hand a few times, but he hasn't killed anyone either. Draco's just a spoiled brat," the dark-haired boy argued. "He likes attention, that's all. He knows how to make people obey him, and he takes advantage of it. But he's not a total bastard to everyone either."

"Well, it would be nice if he started showing it once in a while," Hermione snorted. "At the moment, as far as I'm concerned, he is."

He shrugged again. He didn't seem to be trying to convince her of anything, just give her his side of the story. As if they were talking about the weather and not about a classmate's lousy behaviour.

"You don't know him very well either."

The two of them had stopped, deep in conversation, by one of the windows in the corridor. At those words, Hermione angrily let her eyes wander across the landscape. She scanned the vast grounds, searching. And she found it. She knew they would be around.

There was a small group of Slytherins under the shade of an oak tree. They were rowdy, laughing and shouting insults at any 'undesirable' who passed them. Malfoy was in the middle of the group, as she expected, and seemed to be the only one with the right to lean against the tree trunk. He was saying nothing, and, though the girl couldn't see him from this distance, she knew that his lips would be turning up at the corners of his mouth in a satisfied smirk, and his eyes would simply be scanning the various scenes taking place in front of him.

Hermione gave Nott a smug look, but there was no need for her to point out the scene. Her partner's eyes were also fixed on Malfoy and his buddies.

"Do you see it? I don't need to know him any better. I know enough to know that he has no scruples at all," Hermione said laconically, not taking her eyes off the young Malfoy. "He knows perfectly well that the other Slytherins will pick on anyone just to make themselves look good in front of him, and he does nothing to stop it. It's disgusting."

Nott said nothing, for he could find no adequate argument to refute the scene they were both watching. He merely looked wistfully at the blond sitting under the tree.

"It looks like they haven't been to class, and don't plan to," the dark-haired boy remarked quietly. "As usual."

"They only go when it interests them, or when they have nothing better to do," Hermione mumbled dismissively, her tone of voice making it clear what she thought of people who skipped class. She shook her head and turned away from the window, continuing down the corridor. Nott followed her, almost without thinking.

"What class are you attending now?" the Slytherin suddenly asked.

Hermione glanced sideways at him, unable to hide her surprise that he spoke to her in such a calm, almost hopeful tone, as if he wished to converse with her. As if they were friends even though it was the first time they had spoken. Suddenly, she felt a little sorry for the boy. Without intending to, he was making it clear by his attitude that he was a loner. That he didn't have many friends. It was possible that Malfoy was his only friend. She had rarely seen him in the company of anyone else. She knew perfectly well what that was like, she was able to understand how he felt. In her first year, until she made friends with Harry and Ron over the troll incident at Hallowe'en, she was always alone, and she knew how much loneliness hurt.

"Herbology, with the Ravenclaws," Hermione replied softly, but then a sudden thought made her turn to him wide-eyed, almost startling him. "What class does Malfoy have now?"

Nott blinked a couple of times, frowning quizzically. Taking in returning to the conversation about Draco in such an abrupt way.

"Why — ? Well, the same as me, Transfiguration. Today it's our day with the Hufflepuffs..."

"I'll walk you there," Hermione said, resuming her walk and picking up her pace. "I have to catch Malfoy, and I'm sure he wouldn't dare skip one of McGonagall's classes. He has something that belongs to me."

"What are you talking about?" he asked, lengthening his stride as well, trying to keep up with her quick pace.

"My wand. That bastard kept it when he delayed me before the exam," Hermione snarled, wrinkling her nose. "I'm going to get it back right now."

Nott let out another weary sigh, laden with resignation.

"Wait, hold still, you're not going to have time to go to Transfiguration and then Herbology," he said, grabbing her arm to stop her. She slowed down and turned to face him, gasping for breath at the fast pace. "Go to Herbology, you can manage without a wand there. I'll get it back and give it to you at lunch, all right?"

Hermione opened her mouth, but realised she didn't know what to say.

"Are you serious? Would you do me that favour?" Hermione managed to mumble after a few seconds of hesitation. This boy was unnerving, and he didn't inspire total confidence in her. His actions were very unusual. "Why?"

"I think I owe you," he confessed, smiling resignedly for the first time, "for not telling anyone that I was the one who gave Draco up in the Longbottom thing."

Hermione was about to tell him that he didn't owe her anything for that, but changed her mind instantly and asked something different, suspiciously:

"How do you know I haven't told anyone?"

"Because, if you had, the news would most likely have reached the ears of the Slytherins, and I wouldn't be allowed to set foot in the Common Room right now. At least not in one piece. You've saved me a lot of trouble by not telling, and I thank you for that."

Hermione blinked. She felt bewildered, and very confused. She didn't know if she could trust this Nott, but she realised that there was no harm in trying. The boy had shown where his loyalty lay by ratting out Malfoy, and Hermione should give him a vote of confidence for that.

"What do you want from me?" the girl asked, looking at him intently. No half-measures. He shrugged, as if it were obvious.

"Like I said, you're the only one who can stand up to Draco. He's going too far with the whole Runes class thing right now, and he's going to get into trouble eventually. And he won't listen to me. All I want is for you to try and stop him."

With barely ten minutes to go before the Great Hall opened its doors, and the students could sit down to recover their energy with a succulent meal, Nott found himself walking up the stairs to his dormitories in the dungeons, in the Slytherin Common Room. He opened the door, deep in thought, and, just as he had imagined, found Draco there.

He was alone, sitting on his bed, his back against the headboard, his light eyes moving across the room, following the trail of a glowing Snitch flying in all directions. When he heard the door open, his eyes focused on it, though they returned to the winged ball as soon as he recognised his roommate.

"What's up?" Draco greeted, casually, keeping his eyes on the Snitch.

"Hi," Nott replied, closing the door behind him. He walked over to his bed to set his heavy bag on it, his eyes also fixed on the elusive little ball. "How quickly you left Transfiguration..."

"I wanted to go to the Owlery before I went to the Great Hall, though I had plenty of time in the end," he said, as if justifying his being there now. "My mother sent me a package that was too big to be brought in at breakfast. Oh, and she sent another one for you... What did I do with it?" Draco asked himself, and looked around. After a moment's hesitation, he leaned over to his bedside table, and opened the top drawer to rummage through it. "Ah! Here it is..."

He tossed him a small square package wrapped in brown paper, tied with a thin string and stamped with the Gringotts logo. He tinkled slightly as Nott caught it in mid-air.

"I suppose it's money," the young blond opined, settling back into his bed. He grinned, amused at his own words, given that the seal was quite illuminating. "He must have taken it from your chamber."

Nott said nothing at first. He sat on the bed, staring at the small package and twirling it around in his fingers. Draco, at his partner's silence, returned his attention to the Snitch with resignation.

"Thank your mother for me," Nott murmured after a few seconds.

Draco shrugged, playing it down.

"No problem. How was the Arithmancy exam?"

"Not too bad. There were a few tricky questions, but I thought it was pretty good," Nott commented, still staring at the packet.

"Cool," Draco agreed, squinting to try and get a better look at the Snitch's trajectory. "You're a brainiac, you'll get an Outstanding for sure."

Nott gave a lazy grin, but didn't look up just yet. The small package looked like the most interesting thing he'd seen in a long time. Draco raised a hand and tried to catch the little golden ball as it passed by him.

"Have you heard from home?" Nott questioned suddenly, his voice impersonal.

The Snitch slipped through Draco's fingers, but he hardly noticed. Forgetting the ball, he stared at his friend, who was still staring at the still-closed packet.

"Will you shut up? We're not going to talk about that here," he hissed, mumbling in disbelief.

"I didn't ask anything weird. And there's no one who can hear us here, we're alone."

"I don't care, don't mention it. I don't trust anyone spying on us," Draco, running his tongue over his lips in frustration, tried to focus on the Snitch again, but his friend wouldn't let him.

"Could it be that you don't want me to mention it because you don't want to talk about it?" Nott insisted, now looking up. "Because you don't find it funny at all? You're not stupid, Draco, you know perfectly well that the fact that the Dark Lord is in your house is a very serious thing —"

"I told you to shut your mouth!" Draco replied in a louder voice, beginning to lose his patience. He turned to him, "And stop lecturing me for once and for all. I'm getting tired of you changing your mind about Him and now you're trying to eat my head off. That He's in my house is a privilege, an honour, which you'd understand if you weren't so short-sighted. Just because you hate Him now doesn't mean that I — !"

"I'm sorry, but what matters is, why don't you hate him?" Nott interrupted him without raising his tone, unlike his friend. "It nearly cost your father his life. And now he's in Azkaban, maybe for life. Isn't that reason enough?"

"It was a fucking mission. An important one. There are always risks," Draco mumbled, his breath coming in short gasps. "My father knew, your father knew, and the Dark Lord knew."

"Yeah, except the Dark Lord doesn't give a shit about our parents' lives," Nott said in a clear voice, making Draco inhale sharply.

"That's not true. And I'm not going to listen to you any longer..." He turned away from him, lying on his side, and fixed his gaze on the canopy of the bed.

"You don't want to, because you know I'm right!" Nott exclaimed, rising to his feet and walking around the bed to stand in front of him. He looked upset for the first time in the whole conversation, "Because you resent not being right! All this for what, Draco? For what? Your house has become a Death Eater's barracks, our parents are going to turn up dead in Azkaban any day now, and —"

"Shut your mouth!" Draco shouted in return, straightening up into a sitting position. "My father was in danger too, he was nearly killed too! And neither he, nor I, will stand aside for it! You're a coward, Nott! You talk like a bloody traitor — !"

"You know I am," Nott gasped, through gritted teeth. He seemed to be talking almost to himself. He turned away from Draco, walking back around the bed. "I am, because I don't want to have anything to do with Death Eaters, or the Dark Lord, or —"

"Shut up," Draco growled, his voice quieter. "I'm sick of hearing you say that. I don't want to hear it anymore. I'm not going to be an accomplice to the treachery you're committing."

"Then don't be. Do as you please. Become a Death Eater of your own free will. Risk your life for no reason."

"For no reason?" Draco snapped, glaring at him again. As if he'd just uttered the worst of profanities. "You can't be serious. It's the only reason that matters. I'll help cleanse the world of the Mudbloods, purify the blood of the wizarding world once more. I will help the Dark Lord win. I will be part of the winning army, and he will reward me. I will have — I will have an amazing future."

Draco's grey eyes sparkled with joy and excitement at his promising thoughts. His friend, on the other hand, shook his head. Unimpressed.

"Well, I'm not interested in any of that."

Draco refused to answer him, and simply lay back down on his bed, arms behind his head. He was shaking with rage, but he refused to argue any more. Nott was going to get himself killed if he kept talking and thinking like that.

Despite coming from a Death Eater father, Theodore Nott had buried his prejudice against Muggles a year ago. It all began at the end of their fifth year with the incident at the Ministry of Magic, involving Harry Potter and his friends, in which the wizarding community finally discovered that the Dark Lord had returned. In it, a number of Death Eaters were captured and imprisoned, including Lucius Malfoy, and Mr. Nott was seriously injured. Since then, Theodore, finding himself all alone for the first time in his life, had thought long and hard, and had finally come to the conclusion that he wanted nothing to do with Voldemort. That he hated him. That mission had nearly cost his father his life, and the other Death Eaters had abandoned him to his fate. Only the members of the Order, by finding him and taking him to Azkaban, saved his life. Ironic as that sounded. After his father's imprisonment, and, with his mother no longer alive, Theodore had gone to live with the Malfoy family, lifelong friends. In front of everyone, he still pretended that he supported Voldemort and that he longed to become a Death Eater one day and follow in his father's footsteps... But that was no longer what he really wanted.

Draco, his closest friend since childhood, was the only one who knew how the young man really felt about the situation, and what he knew he didn't like one bit. They often argued about the same thing, and neither of them was willing to change their views on the matter.

"My father would want this," Draco added after many seconds of silence, in a slightly quieter voice. He seemed to be talking to himself rather than to Nott. "Someday he'll get out of Azkaban, and he'll find out that I'm following in his footsteps... And then he'll be proud of me. I'll make him proud."

Theodore just sighed silently, not knowing what to say to that. He sat down on his bed again, and began to open the brown packet full of Galleons that had been left there forgotten. As he did so, he raised a hand and pointed to the small Snitch, which was still fluttering with a whirring sound.

"Did you get it back?"

He seemed to want to return to a cordial conversation. Draco struggled to get back to the real world and agreed to speak normally. He gave a lazy half-smile before replying.

"Yes, that squib Filch hadn't been able to catch it in the Runes classroom, so I went in a moment to get it when he wasn't there," he replied, pleased with himself.

"Did you really steal it from the Quidditch pitch?" Nott questioned, arching an eyebrow in disbelief. His friend chuckled.

"Of course not. It's mine, it's the one my mother gave me years ago," he revealed, amused. "And the Quaffle as well. But it was cool to say I stole it, wasn't it?"

"I'm not arguing with that," Nott resigned himself, shrugging his shoulders. He opened a drawer in his bedside table and put the Galleons in it. He let out a discreet sigh, as if gathering his courage, and added in a much quieter voice, "But you're going too far, Draco."

"Going too far?" his friend repeated, puzzled. As if it were the first news he had about it.

"You're behaving terribly, and I'm not just talking about Runes class. I've already given up on that, I know I can't make you rectify it. But lately you barely go to class, and you spend all day getting into a thousand and one problems with everyone."

"Come on! I don't mess with anyone," Draco protested, grimacing in mock indignation. But he held back a shameless grin.

"But Crabbe, Goyle and the others do, and they do it under your orders," Nott insisted, frowning.

"I never told them to do anything, they do it because they want to," the young blond defended himself, not giving it any importance.

"They do it to please you and you know it."

Draco let out a deep frustrated sigh, losing his patience.

"Nott, Merlin's beard, I beg you, stop lecturing me," he pleaded almost desperately, rising to his feet and stretching his arms out to loosen them. "You're turning into my mother..."

Draco bit his tongue instantly, regretting the expression he had used. The fact that Nott's mother had passed away, not so long ago, made any topic of female progenitors a considerably delicate one. The Malfoy boy had a deep respect for the passing of Nott's mother, when the boy was only eleven years old. He had witnessed Theodore's suffering, and had made a habit of being respectful when discussing similar topics in front of his friend.

However, Nott didn't seem to notice anything.

"Not to mention," the dark-haired boy continued sternly, ignoring him, "locking Granger in the classroom... That was the last straw, frankly. What were you thinking?"

"How did you find out about that?" Draco asked in turn, turning to look at him, unable to hide his curiosity. Nott cleared his throat, just to buy time.

"Well... I'll just say that I wouldn't be surprised if Granger's shouting and banging on the door had been heard by the elves in the kitchens," he lied discreetly, matter-of-factly.

Draco exhaled loudly through his nose and raised his eyes to heaven, as if asking for divine intervention to help him put up with Hermione Granger.

"That brat gets on my nerves, always meddling in my business," he complained, his face shadowed. "Damn Mudblood... If she interferes again, I'm going to make her pay for it. I've got her wand, let's see what I can do with it to keep her in her place..."

"She's not doing anything wrong, Draco. You are," his friend spat, undeterred, and without averting his gaze. It was good for him that Draco mentioned he had her wand, so he didn't have to confess that he'd spoken to Granger. Not yet, at least.

Malfoy jerked at his words as if he'd been slapped in the face. He looked at him in dismay.

"That is the cherry of the cake, now you also defend the Mudbloods?" he exclaimed, exaggeratedly incredulous.

"I'm simply saying that she's right."

The blond turned his face away, clicking his tongue in annoyance, and fixed his eyes across the room. His lips curved into an angry grimace. As if his friend was wearing him down to the bone.

"Granger is a crazy hysterical who is blowing everything out of proportion. The Runes thing is no big deal, it's just a stupid game," he said, sulkily. He sat back down on his bed and added in a tone that brooked no reply, "Don't you start meddling in my business too, because I won't let you."

Silence fell. Nott was looking down heavily at him from his bed, but Draco had stopped looking at him. His eyes were lost at the other end of the room, following the path of the Snitch absentmindedly. He looked relaxed, if annoyed. Nott's words hadn't impressed him in the slightest.

"Can I at least ask a favour that will benefit you?" Theodore asked in a faint voice.

It took Draco a couple of seconds to answer, for a sudden sneeze prevented him from doing so. After sniffling, he mumbled in a slightly strained voice:

"If you sell it to me like that..."

"Can I have Granger's wand?"

Draco snorted instantly as he rolled his eyes.

"That's all I need. Of course not. I want to have fun first. And I can possibly blackmail her with it... What do you want it for?" he added, sceptical, as if he'd just noticed that detail.

"It's a Mudblood's wand," Nott replied, smirking slyly, not answering his question. "Are you really going to touch something as rotten as Granger? Are you going to get your hands dirty so wantonly?"

Draco glared at him, knowing that his friend didn't actually believe what he was saying, but was saying what he knew would disgust Draco.

"Nott, don't get on my nerves…"

"Listen," Nott replied impatiently, looking at him seriously, "Granger can't go to lessons without a wand. And you know how responsible she is. She would never allow her grades to be affected by this. She'll go to great lengths to convince the teachers that you've taken it from her, and the teachers will search you. And I don't care how well you hide it. They'll know you stole it and you'll get a big punishment. You might even get expelled. Stealing a wand is very serious. It's not worth it."

Draco stared at his friend without moving a muscle. Finally, he let out a snort. Shaking his head, he clicked his tongue again and rose heavily to his feet. He opened the second drawer of his bedside table, pulled out the slender wand with two fingers, as if it burned him, and tossed it to his friend.

"And what are you going to do with it? Give it back to her, just like that?" Draco questioned, as if it was unthinkable. Utterly absurd. "Why would you do that?"

"We go to Arithmancy together. I'll give it to her in class, and that's it. Just like that," Nott scoffed, smirking at his friend. Ignoring his look of undisguised disgust. "Don't thank me, even though I'm saving you a lot of trouble, and you know it."

Draco shook his head, as if the whole thing seemed like a bad joke in poor taste.

"I can't believe you're taking sides with that Granger now," he muttered, contemptuous. He took the opportunity of opening the drawer to pull out a handkerchief and blow his nose. "You go from bad to worse. What will be next? Laugh at demented Dumbledore's bad jokes?"

"Granger may be a Mudblood, and all you want, but at least she's got half a brain," Nott replied, his tone calm. "Which I can't say for many of your peers. Crabbe and Goyle, for instance."

Malfoy snorted, incredulous and almost dismayed.

"Don't compare. Crabbe and Goyle are pure-bloods, it has nothing to do with that."

Nott arched both eyebrows.

"Draco, they're seventeen and they don't know how to use a knife and fork at the same time."

The blond rolled his eyes and then narrowed them in annoyance.

"It's still not the same," he replied, with sweeping firmness. He added, glaring at his friend with disdain, "Merlin, I don't even know why I put up with you; you're insufferable."

Nott knew Draco too well to take his words seriously, so he merely smiled to himself and stood up as he tucked Granger's wand into the pocket of his robes. As he turned to grab his bag, another sneeze from his partner startled him. He turned to him, in time to see him blowing his nose again.

"Are you catching a cold?" he asked kindly, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

"Of course not, it's just that your bullshit gives me allergies," Draco spat fiercely. It was obvious he was in a bad mood. "And also this bloody cold in the dungeons, which makes me sneeze. They could hire more elves to light the fireplaces," he strode towards the door. "Come on, let's go and eat. I'll see if I can find one of the Creevey's on the way to distract me for a while."

Nott's resigned sigh was drowned out by Draco's little hop to finally catch the elusive Golden Snitch.