Hi! How are you? 😊 Here I come with a new chapter, in time for Valentine's day... Not too romantic yet, but we'll get there ha ha ha 😜 Thank you all so much for reading! I hope you like it! 😊
CHAPTER 5
The Night of the Witches
The Great Hall glowed brightly under the orange illumination of the pumpkin-shaped lanterns that were magically suspended beneath the transparent ceiling. Through it, dark, stormy clouds could be glimpsed, further helping to create the terrifying atmosphere that was needed for the night. Hundreds of bats hovered over people's heads, without touching them. Despite the spooky atmosphere of the Hallowe'en feast, the students were in high spirits.
"Ron, don't you think five pumpkin pies in a row is enough?" said Harry, trying not to laugh. "You're going to explode, man…"
"Or at least eat something different now... For variety," Ginny replied, giggling, causing Harry to chuckle.
"Le've 'e 'lone," Ron snorted, his mouth stuffed with a delicious scone filled with sweet pumpkin cream. "I've 'tood enouf…"
"Don't struggle, we don't understand you," interrupted Harry, smirking, pulling a small piece of the scone his friend had spat out of his eyelid.
Ron swallowed hard, which took him several agonising seconds, and repeated:
"I say, I've had enough while the ghosts did their dance number," the red-haired boy complained, brandishing his fork dangerously, laden with a new orange scone. "Hermione wouldn't let me have a bite to eat while they went round and round..."
"It's a matter of politeness, Ron," she interjected, wiping her mouth with a napkin. "They've rehearsed a lot and they deserve attention. And you, when you eat, you don't pay attention to anything else."
"I can do two things at once, you smart arse!" Ron grumbled, stuffing the whole pastry into his mouth and adding something else that was unintelligible to the others.
"You look like a hamster," joked Ginny, holding back her laughter. Her brother glared at her, his cheeks bulging considerably, causing Harry to burst out laughing.
Hermione smiled in amusement, but then looked back down at her nearly untouched plate. She stifled a sigh. She felt a tight knot in her stomach that prevented her from enjoying the delicious Hallowe'en desserts. Her head ached, and it felt as if she hadn't given her brain a break for days. And, technically, so it was.
She looked up for the tenth time, and scanned the distance with her eyes again. She scanned the table furthest away from hers once more, almost inertia. Hermione was smart enough to realise that if she hadn't seen Draco Malfoy the other ten times she'd looked for him with her eyes — accidentally, of course, by chance — he wasn't going to materialise now. But she couldn't help it. It was a kind of unexpected intuition that warned her that something was wrong. Because he would normally be there, with his friends. Enjoying the long-awaited Hallowe'en feast. All the students looked forward to that day, year after year, with great anticipation. But he wasn't there. Wouldn't he have wanted to come? Wouldn't he have been in the mood? If so, why? Well, it... it didn't matter. There were more likely things. Perhaps he had got into trouble of some kind? Was he doing some kind of misdeed somewhere? ...Or had something happened to him?
She closed her eyes tightly, inhaled and exhaled in frustration, and opened them again, trying to compose herself. She was behaving ridiculously. Why was she so concerned with what Malfoy did or didn't do? Not only had she been forced to think about him almost twenty-four hours a day in an attempt to solve the Ancient Runes thing, but now her eyes were searching for him. For what? For nothing. And that was a waste of time. And Hermione didn't like wasting time. Neither Malfoy's life, nor anything to do with him, was any of her business. Least of all his welfare. She hadn't cared about him in the nearly seven years she'd known him, and she wasn't about to start now. That evil lout didn't deserve to have any more energy expended on him than was necessary to put up with him.
Lately she was becoming more aware of his presence than ever before. She had noticed that when they met somewhere — in a classroom, a corridor, or the Great Hall — she was quick to notice that the young man was there. Much more quickly than before. It was completely out of her control. And she didn't like it one bit about herself. Because she felt that, even though it was a trivial gesture on her part, he didn't deserve to have that power over her behaviour.
The sight of Malfoy's arrogant eyes, as he squeezed her neck in the old office of the Ancient Runes classroom, materialised on her retina with overwhelming clarity.
The fork landed on the plate with a loud clinking sound. Her hand had lost the strength it needed to hold it. And that sound was the only thing that woke her from her lethargy. Hermione felt as if she had been submerged in water and was finally rising to the surface. Suddenly, she was able to hear the sounds of the Great Hall again. And to breathe again. She realised that her hands were shaking with anger. She clenched her fists. She had to find a way to make Malfoy pay for all the trouble he was causing. She had to get it any way she could. And she had to stop looking for him.
Suddenly she felt very tired. She had been promising herself for days that she would find a solution to the whole Ancient Runes thing, but she hadn't done it yet. Thinking for so long was exhausting. And besides, standing there, she couldn't stop staring at the Slytherin House table. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't. She needed to get out of there. She needed to get out of there and pull herself together.
"Guys," she called as calmly as she could, looking at her friends. They stopped their own conversation about the dance the ghosts had done, and looked at her. "I'm going to go upstairs and lie down. I am very tired."
"You don't look well," Harry corroborated, looking at her uneasily now. "You look a bit pale, I think. Maybe it's the lights, though..." He looked up briefly, in the direction of the grinning, malevolent pumpkins.
"You've barely had your dinner," added Ron, staring at his friend's almost untouched plate. Suddenly a horrible thought seemed to strike him and he exclaimed with a frightened look on his face, "You're not on a diet or anything, are you? That's terrible! You'd better not be... Your body needs nourishment, it's normal for you to be tired..."
Hermione looked at him puzzled for a moment at such a conclusion. A resigned smile escaped her, but she didn't feel strong enough to respond. Instead, an indignant Ginny did it for her.
"What's wrong with you?" his sister snapped, staring at him in disbelief. "Why on earth would Hermione go on a diet?"
Ron took on the same tone as the raspberry tart on his fork, halfway to his mouth.
"I — I didn't mean she needed to —" he stammered, offended. "Not at all —"
Hermione smiled amused at his predicament.
"Don't worry, Ron," she assured, calming him down. "I just need to rest. I'm not feeling well, that's why I haven't had much dinner."
"Do you want us to accompany you?" Ginny offered, tilting her face. "We can take the sweets up to the Common Room and —"
"No way, it'd be a mess," Hermione stood up stiffly, struggling off the bench. "And you can't eat in the Common Room," she said censoriously, out of inertia. But she softened her tone as she added, "Finish your dinner in peace, honestly..."
"Do you at least want us to check on you later?" offered Harry, still looking at her uneasily. "We can't go up to your dormitory, though..."
Hermione felt a surge of gratitude towards Harry. He, and Ron, and Ginny too, were the best friends she could wish for. And she felt a new surge of anger tighten in her chest at the thought that she was giving up a nice moment with them because of the discomfort Draco Malfoy was causing her.
"Don't worry, Harry, I'm fine," Hermione assured him, looking at him warmly. "I'll sleep like a log and I'll see you in the morning. I'll be as good as new," she promised, both to them and to herself.
"All right, get some rest, we'll see you tomorrow," Harry wished her well, waving her goodbye. Ron waved her goodbye as well, his mouth too full to speak again.
The girl headed for the double doors, ready to get out of there. Before she crossed the threshold, she had a little inner conflict, and in the end she ended up giving the Slytherin table one last, hurried glance. She caught Theodore Nott and Daphne Greengrass talking, and Crabbe and Goyle greedily devouring everything within reach. But, again, Malfoy was conspicuous by his absence. She mentally insulted herself for once again looking where she shouldn't have, and continued on her way with long strides.
The walk to the Gryffindor Common Room took forever. The professors were allowing Hallowe'en dinner to go on a little longer than a normal dinner, so it was already dark outside. The corridors were shrouded in shadows that only disappeared by the occasional torchlight. The appearance of the castle was truly menacing. Silence pressed on the eardrums, and only the sound of her shoes broke the stillness of the empty corridors.
"I don't understand why they don't put up more torches. Or a light bulb," Hermione said to herself, looking around and swallowing as she saw the shadow of a horribly distorted gargoyle on the wall. It was times like these that she missed the electricity of the Muggle world. "This is scary..."
Suddenly, a powerful and terrifying howl reached her ears, eliciting a high-pitched scream from the girl. Then a large white shadow rushed over her from Merlin knew where, and Hermione reflexively turned her back to it and covered her head with her arms, closing her eyes tightly. She could clearly hear her heart beating in her ears. She was breathless. Everything was silent... And she waited, her body tense, for a blow, a stab, some kind of pain... But nothing happened. After several seconds of panic and stupor, she heard a clear and more than familiar wild laughter.
"Peeves!" the girl raged, her eyes widening. She looked up and saw that the poltergeist, wearing a jingle hat and orange bow tie, was hovering over her, laughing his head off. "You fool, I almost had a heart attack!"
"It's the Night of the Witches, isn't it?! And the fun part is scaring people!" cried the little man, still laughing, pirouetting in the air and shaking his bells.
"Idiot," she mumbled bitterly, holding a hand to her heart and feeling it racing horribly. "I still don't understand why Dumbledore doesn't just throw you out of here..."
"You're the second one to fall for it!" Peeves continued to burst out. "That snooty blond's hair almost turned white as a sheet!"
Hermione took a deep breath to calm herself, but again her heart skipped a beat.
Snooty blond?
"Who did you scare, Peeves?" she asked, unable to contain herself.
The little ghost went up to the ceiling and stood face down, pretending to walk on it.
"A Slytherin student in the bathroom on the sixth floor. He wasn't using it, I don't really know what he was doing in there. Nothing, I guess. Watching the Murtlaps!"
"Was that a long time ago?" Hermione insisted, not even thinking about how strange it was that she was so interested in him. But Peeves didn't seem to care.
"A while... When the feast had already started. I was able to scare two more Hufflepuff students in the afternoon! But now everyone's at dinner and no one's there... I'm bored... I'm going to find someone else! I'm getting more and more polished in my scary ghost voice!"
And, after a loud laugh, he flew off at full speed.
Hermione frowned. A snooty, blond Slytherin standing alone in a bathroom doing nothing? It sounded very suspicious. And the likelihood of him being Malfoy was considerably high.
She folded her arms in the middle of the corridor. Would this be the ideal time to spy on Malfoy? Would he be doing something illegal that she could blackmail him into stopping bothering with Ancient Runes? It was far from the honourable thing to do, but it was an option. Peace, sometimes, could be costly; and peace in the Ancient Runes classroom was more than necessary. And her peace of mind, too.
There was little chance of anyone showing up, almost everyone was at the banquet. Would she get a glimpse of whatever it was he was doing?
After taking a couple of hesitant steps forward, she shook her head in frustration. She turned around, and headed straight for the stairs leading up to the sixth floor. Fortunately, she didn't meet anyone on her way up, until she finally stopped panting in front of the door to the men's toilets. It hadn't taken her long, she had tried to hurry. They were the only bathrooms on that floor, so if he hadn't left, he would still be in there.
She took a deep breath as she stood in front of the wooden door. Her heart was pounding in her throat. There was absolutely nothing to be heard. She moved closer to it, and pressed her ear to its surface. Silence. Suddenly, she heard the sound of a tap running. Hermione startled, holding back the urge to move away from the door. But a few seconds later the tap suddenly stopped again, disconcerting her. And then it opened again, for two seconds, only to close again.
"What the hell is he doing in there?"
Her throat felt dry, and what little she had eaten churned slightly in her stomach. She wasn't used to breaking the rules, and even less so for such a lowly purpose as blackmailing someone. But finally she took a breath, determined, and carefully opened the door to peek out.
The bathroom was dimly lit by a pair of lanterns. As in all the bathrooms in the castle, except for the Prefects', in the centre, forming a circle, were the washbasins and their corresponding mirrors. On the left side of the room were the toilet cubicles. The cracked mirror in front of her gave her a fivefold image of herself. She could see how pale she looked. At her feet, on the puddled floor, was a bottle-green bucket, over the rim of which hung brown leather gloves, and a wooden handle of some unidentifiable contraption was sticking out. A worn brush, also made of wood, lay next to the bucket.
Seeing no one, she ventured inside. Again she heard the sound of a tap running, and startled. The water gushing could now be heard clearly, amplified by the tiles on the walls, and it seemed to be coming from the unseen area of the circle of sinks. With her heart pumping blood at full speed, she advanced as stealthily as she could, trying to see what was on the other side. She would tilt her head carefully, trying not to be seen. She'd take a look and get out. She was looking forward to it.
Until, abruptly, Malfoy emerged from behind the toilets, looking distracted. And he walked straight towards her with a firm stride. And his eyes focused on her irrevocably.
Shit.
Hermione couldn't hold back a scream of astonishment, and took two steps back, covering her mouth with her hands. Malfoy, for his part, seemed to pale, if that was possible, several shades. He jumped back in pure surprise, and his expensive shoes slipped on the wet floor, sending him staggering inelegantly. He managed to grab hold of the sink so as not to end up on the floor.
There were three seconds of absolute silence, charged with consternation on both sides. Malfoy was looking at her as if she was the last person he expected to see there, a reaction that was hardly surprising. She, for her part, cursed herself in her mind with various swear words. She hadn't expected the boy to discover her so blatantly — how could she be such a nefarious spy?
"Merlin, Granger…" Draco managed to articulate in a breathy voice. He put a hand to his chest and closed his eyes for a moment, trying to calm himself. "Fuck, you scared the shit out of me... Did you all set out to kill me today? First that fucking poltergeist, and now you… What the hell are you doing here?"
The girl was still quiet for a few seconds. She was frozen. Her mind was blank. Now, what?
"I... heard the tap," she stammered, with little conviction. "And I thought it turned on by itself. Since everyone's at dinner... I didn't know you were here," she hesitated for a second, pondering her own words, and thought they sounded convincing. Sort of. She calmed down a little and dared to face him cautiously, "What are you doing here? Why aren't you at the feast?"
Malfoy frowned. He had partially recovered from his shock as well. He straightened up, regaining his poise.
"What do you think I'm doing, stupid?" he mumbled disdainfully. But Hermione caught a hint of nervousness in his voice. Like a child caught doing something he wasn't proud of. She looked around. Several of the sinks were damp and shiny, and the one closest to Draco had soap on its surface and a dirty rag hanging over the rim. For the first time, she paid attention to the boy's attire: he had removed his uniform robes, leaving only his trousers, white shirt, which he had rolled up to his elbows, and the sleeveless jumper usually worn in the winter season.
"Are you cleaning the toilets?" asked the young woman, with genuine bewilderment. That was by far the last thing she would have imagined.
"I'm grounded," he corrected, laconic. He walked past her to the bucket by the door and picked up the brush. "Courtesy of that stupid McGonagall."
"Why?" Hermione blurted out, ignoring the insult to the Head of her House. She was alone, with a grounded Malfoy who had caught her in the act of spying on him, and the last thing she wanted to do was provoke a fight. For her own safety.
Malfoy let out a biting chuckle, as he walked back to the toilets, brush in hand.
"Don't flatter yourself, it's not about Ancient Runes," he sniggered, looking into her eyes with an evil glint. Hermione pursed her lips in disappointment. "I've missed a few of her lessons, that's all."
"And you're cleaning the toilets?" the girl wondered, looking at him suspiciously. "Muggle-style? You? Knowing you, it would make more sense to me if you'd ducked out..."
He looked at her with undisguised contempt.
"Knowing me. As if you knew me at all, Granger... But I'm morally obliged to point out that you weren't wrong: I've been standing here for an hour without, effectively, lifting a finger, until that fossil McGonagall came to check on me and promised me," he spat emphatically, "that if I don't get this place spick and span Muggle-style, she'll make me clean the toilets in your tower," he smiled at the young woman with a scary sweetness. "And I'm not cleaning a Gryffindor's shit. I'd rather throw myself down the tower."
Hermione folded her arms. Gauging the veracity of his story. Which seemed to be a lot. She was disappointed. There was nothing to use against the boy there, she was wasting her time. Given Draco Malfoy's reputation, being punished by cleaning toilets Muggle-style wasn't going to destroy him. Everyone knew that a punishment from McGonagall was... a punishment from McGonagall. And he'd better stick to it. No one would judge him. She cursed her lack of instinct for information-gathering.
"Do you want to know anything else?" he spat sarcastically, when he saw that she was silent. He set the brush down on one of the sinks and raised both arms, as if the show was over. "Do you want to go get some tea and watch me clean up shit like a common Mudblood?"
Hermione closed her eyes and sighed. This boy's megalomania was exhausting her to no end. But... maybe she could take advantage of the journey there.
Her brain went to work. Maybe fate had meant for her to meet him in that bathroom. Maybe she could make a second attempt to talk, and settle the Ancient Runes issue once and for all as adults. Malfoy, despite being in a bad mood, looked a lot calmer than when she had locked him in the office after Gobstones' accidental game. Perhaps he was more reasonable that time. They were in no hurry; not all their classmates were waiting outside, nor was the bell about to ring to end the class. They had all the time in the world, basically because he couldn't escape his punishment.
Hermione opened her eyes and stared at him, considering him. He was no idiot. Well, he was an idiot. But not that kind of idiot. Malfoy was... The way he expressed himself, the way he reasoned certain things out, even his ability to use everything to his advantage, revealed that he was an intelligent person. Even if that intelligence was never used for the common good.
How could she appeal to a maturity that the boy never showed he had? How could she get him to listen to her?
She didn't hold out much hope. None, really. But there was nothing to be lost by trying again.
"Since you've brought up the subject of Ancient Runes," the girl said, looking at him attentively, "And, since we're alone, and you can't run away from here," she dared a sarcastic smile to which the boy reciprocated by narrowing his eyes suspiciously, "I want to tell you a couple of things."
Malfoy rolled his eyes and let out a deep sigh. He moved further away in disgust, turning back to the sink he was cleaning.
"Goddamn it, I'm already grounded, Granger. And this punishment doesn't include your lectures. So you'd better get the hell out of here."
"Not until you listen to me," she insisted, taking a step closer. "Malfoy, the Ancient Runes thing has to stop. And you know it."
He let out a growl of deep despair. He pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers.
"How can you be so exhausting — ? Granger, if I could barely stand you when we barely spoke, imagine now," he gave her a disdainful sideways glance. "Stop it, because it's getting boring as hell. I'll tell you again, it's not that big a deal. It's just a stupid game. We're having fun."
"No, Malfoy. You're making trouble, and you're not allowing us to study. You're disturbing our classmates. And you, you of all people, are a Prefect. You're creating the wrong image of what it means to be a Prefect. You are making the students stop believing that we are an example to follow, and you are undermining my authority, belittling me."
Malfoy burst out laughing.
"You don't know how sorry I am," he said with mock solemnity, not bothering to hold back his laughter and holding a hand to his chest. "Are you finished now? You're feeling better?"
"I'm giving you an ultimatum," Hermione added firmly, as if she hadn't heard him. "I didn't want to cause you any more trouble; you've got enough on your plate," she gestured to the sink, which, for the first time, wiped the smile off his face. "Mistake on my part, since you didn't deserve such consideration from me, but this can't go on. By the next Ancient Runes class, all your little games must be over. Control our companions; they have become emboldened and obey only you. Do it, or I'll tell the Headmaster, Malfoy, I assure you."
Draco kept quiet for the first time. He was now looking at her seriously from the metre of distance that separated them. Without blinking. The girl, for the first time since the conversation had begun, felt a pang of fear. His mocking attitude was more than usual for him, but this seriousness suddenly unsettled her. She knew how to handle the grumpy Malfoy. And the petulant Malfoy. But the quiet Malfoy was new territory to explore.
"So that's what we've got?" he said gruffly then. Serious. Very serious. Staring at her. "Do you feel sorry for me? Are you serious, Granger?"
"I beg your pardon?" she mumbled, puzzled. Blinking.
"You just said you don't report me to teachers because I've got enough on my plate," he repeated. And the irritation in his undaunted voice was palpable. "Am I really the one you feel sorry for? Who do you think you are to feel sorry for me, you Mudblood? Who tricked you into developing such pride? Do you think just because you're a stupid Gryffindor, the House of the Brave, and the little friend of St. Potter, saviour of this universe and the next, gives you the right to think you're superior to me? Stop making a fool of yourself."
"I didn't say any such thing," Hermione corrected, tense, her voice serene. She wasn't liking where the conversation was going at all.
"Oh, but you think so," he leaned against the sink, watching her calculatingly, as if he were seeing her for the first time. "You have the nerve to believe all that. That's why you have this fixation on me all of a sudden. To you, I'm a nuisance, who doesn't measure up to the pure souls your friends have, and who upsets your perfect world of rules and studies on top of that. And you're dying to get me to obey you, to manipulate me as you please like you do everything around you. But, of course, you're a good person," he almost spat out the words, "and you're dying of rage because you can't stand up to me and still be a good girl. You have no way of getting me to obey you nicely, smart arse, and that's why you're so obsessed with me that you assault me wherever you can find me," Hermione, though she didn't want to, was feeling more and more heat in her cheeks. "I'm the last of your shoe and I'm going to stay that way, Granger. If you think what I do deserves to be brought to the Headmaster's attention, I don't know what you're waiting to tell him. But be aware of the consequences afterwards."
"Malfoy, you don't scare me at all," Hermione managed to reply, still composed. Although her heart was pounding in her ribs. "I don't know what this is all about, but you're saying it all by yourself. I've already told you: if I haven't reported you to Dumbledore before, it's because I thought I could appeal to your judgement and maturity, not because I feared reprisals from you. You wouldn't have been elected Prefect if you didn't have both, or so I thought."
Draco let out another disbelieving laugh and ran his tongue over his teeth. As if he couldn't believe his ears.
"There's that Gryffindor pride again," he spat scornfully, almost mockingly. "On top of that, you come up with that. Compassion. They have brainwashed you in such a way that you think you have the right to show compassion for me..."
"Are you going to talk to me about brainwashing?" she sputtered, unable to contain herself. Incredulous. Anger crossed Malfoy's face. Replacing the sneer.
"Don't you dare talk to me about anything, Granger," he hissed angrily. "I shouldn't even have to be putting up with your presence. If Hogwarts were a proper magical school. I have no choice but to put up with you, but I will not allow a filthy Mudblood, the lowest of the low, to have the shame of trying to be considerate to me."
Hermione took a slow breath, trying to relax and not fall into his game of provocation. She shook her head almost imperceptibly, bewildered at what she was hearing.
"Merlin, Malfoy, how can you think like that?" she protested, when she regained her speech. She was puzzled. "All I'm saying is that, despite how badly you're behaving, I'm trying not to cause you any more harm. You could be expelled for what you're doing. Do you find it so —" she searched desperately for a word to express what she was thinking, "— humiliating that a Mudblood would be 'kind' to you? Kindness, Malfoy, for God's sake..."
He didn't answer. His eyes seemed deeper than usual. He was incredibly tense. Now he seemed to be the one who was perplexed. As if he couldn't understand that anyone could be so stupid.
"You know what?" he asked suddenly, deadly serious. "I think you need to be reminded of what our relationship is all about. Because you seem to have forgotten who I am, and who you are."
Hermione blinked, and looked at him suspiciously. Tempted to back away.
"What are you talking about?" she asked, trying to speak with composure.
Draco then advanced towards her, standing in front of her in barely two strides. Hermione felt her pulse quicken instantly. She tensed visibly, worried at the unfamiliar closeness of this boy, but she forced herself not to move. She wasn't used to having Draco Malfoy so close. She didn't even know which part of him to look at. She finally looked up, searching for his gaze. His face was the best option, she supposed. But his eyes were the worst part. It was hard to hold his icy, hard stare. Despite the beauty of the silvery surface of her irises.
A part of her brain screamed at her to get out of there immediately. That his proximity could not bode well. The other part made her notice that the boy smelled of soap, possibly the one he was cleaning the bathroom with. A very human detail. He was quite a bit taller than her, which intimidated her slightly. It made her uncomfortable to feel so at his mercy, without her wand in her hand ready to defend herself. In a physical confrontation he could take her, she was sure.
"Take out your wand," he snapped, holding her gaze effortlessly. The girl swallowed reflexively. She realised then that her throat was dry. The last request she would have expected.
"What?" she managed to say, though her voice sounded slightly hoarse. It barely reverberated off the bathroom tiles.
"Take. Out. Your. Wand," he repeated slowly, his voice low, serious, and controlled. He barely blinked, and Hermione was finding it increasingly difficult to hold his gaze. Two icicles of ice were piercing the back of her neck.
Not knowing what to expect, and not taking her eyes off him, the girl reached her right hand into her robe pocket and pulled out her wand. In fact, she was almost grateful for it. He was grounded to work as a Muggle, so he wouldn't have his wand on him, she was sure. Draco finally took his eyes off hers and lowered his gaze. Hermione wrapped her grip around the handle tighter, determined not to let him take it from her if that was his intention.
But Draco brought his left hand forward and placed it on the back of her hand in a subtle but firm grip. As if he wanted to touch her as little as possible but still sensed that she would put up resistance and he had to counteract it. The girl gripped the wand even tighter, frowning with a start. But he had no intention of taking it from her. He merely guided her hand so that the wand was raised and pointed at his throat. Then he released her instantly.
Hermione blinked, not understanding anything. Not knowing what to say. Why was he pointing her wand at himself?
Suddenly, a creepy smile lit up Malfoy's face. He was mocking her.
"That's better, Granger," he said, sneering cruelly. "This is our style. Everything else is in your stupid head."
"What the — ?" Hermione spluttered, shifting her gaze from his satisfied face to her wand. "What... what on earth are you talking about? Have you lost your mind?" She pulled her wand swiftly away from his neck and reflexively hid it behind her body. "What are you trying to do?"
"Put you in your place," Draco spat, no longer smirking. "Let me explain again, Granger," he shook his head, as if he felt sorry for her. "This is the only thing we can do for each other: kill each other. Any other kind of interaction is out of place. This whole conversation shouldn't be happening. I am the descendant of a long line of pure-bloods, and you are a simple, insignificant Mudblood who should never even have known the wizarding world. So report me to Dumbledore, or do whatever you want. It doesn't matter to me. You don't matter to me. Here at Hogwarts, unfortunately, I have to put up with your presence; but when we leave, if I ever see you... I'll kill you, Mudblood. You're at the top of my list. We are two sides of the same coin. Natural enemies. That's the way things have always been, no matter how much idealistic fools like Dumbledore insist otherwise."
"You're a —" Hermione managed to articulate, obfuscated. Her legs were trembling, "— extremist... a sadist —"
"And you're a deluded fool who's known our world because of idealistic idiots who don't represent wizarding society, and who thinks she knows more than those of us who've been here all our lives," he spat, unrestrainedly. He held out both arms, feigning surrender, the mockery shining on his face again. "Come on, Granger, I'm not that annoying? Then get it over with. There are no witnesses. Unarmed and alone, you won't get a better chance. Fulfil the dreams of St. Potter and that poor sod Weasley and the rest of your absurd Gryffindor House. You know the spell, Mudblood. Kill me if you dare. If you're as brave as your House always boasts."
"Are you out of your mind?" she stuttered, her face twitching. She took two steps back without noticing. "I'm no murderer, Malfoy! Bravery has absolutely nothing to do with murdering someone!"
Draco winced, still with mockery in his eyes.
"I disagree. It's just that you," he added more forcefully, pointing an accusing finger at her, "have a big mouth. You complain endlessly about what I do in Ancient Runes class, but you can't bring yourself to report me to any teacher, on the grounds that you're a good person and don't want to cause me trouble," he let out a dry laugh. "But the truth of the matter is —" he gave a confident half-smile, "— you don't have the guts to do it. Just like you don't have the guts to kill me, nor will you ever have them, no matter how much you hate me. You're pathetic."
"You're a — you're — !" Hermione tried to articulate, blind with indignation. Her knuckles were beginning to turn white.
Malfoy snorted and rolled his eyes at her babbling. He turned his back on her, heading back to the sink.
"Don't pretend you didn't know all this. You may be a lot of things, but you are not that foolish, Granger. But you are very annoying. So, now, off you go. Run off to old Dumbledore, or wherever you like, and tell everyone about Ancient Runes," he looked at her again, his eyes suddenly glinting with mischief. "But stop thinking you have the right to lecture me."
Hermione suddenly raised her wand again, and pointed it at him. Malfoy was silenced by the unexpected movement. Their eyes met. They didn't breathe.
"You're — the worst, Draco Malfoy," Hermione said coldly, shaking with rage even more than before. But her voice sounded firm. Malfoy didn't take his light eyes from hers. "You think too extreme things, you've been brainwashed since you were very young. I'm sincere when I say that I've tried to appeal to your common sense so as not to include the teachers. That's why I'm here, trying to talk to you. And yet you mock me by asking me to kill you, and you tell me that you will kill me one day. That's —" She narrowed her eyes to stop the tears from flooding them. Her lips pursed, holding back a raging sob. Malfoy's eyes widened even more, expressing a disguised surprise. Hermione lowered her wand. "Do you want to know something? I'm not going to tell Dumbledore anything. Nor am I going to go back to appealing to a common sense you don't have. I'm going to stop you, and I don't care about your threats. This is personal now."
The girl turned around in the slippery bathroom and stormed out the door, slamming it behind her with a loud bang. She hurried down the dark corridor, this time no longer pausing to observe how threatening it was. What had happened in the bathroom had frightened her more than the most terrifying hallway.
She was so sick of it all: of being who she was in a society that would always see her differently, of the stupid importance of the purity of blood in the wizarding world, of Draco Malfoy, of his prejudice, of his insults, of his threats, of the horrible testimony he had just given her that echoed in her mind...
'This is the only thing we can do for each other: kill each other. Any other kind of interaction is out of place. This whole conversation shouldn't be happening.'
Without even realising the path she had taken, she arrived at the entrance to the portrait of The Fat Lady, almost breathless. The oil-painted woman gazed at her curiously. Judging by her expression, she must have looked troubled; she knew that her eyes were watering, her nose was running and her face was burning. But she refused to cry.
"Is everything all right, my dear?" asked The Fat Lady, worried.
"Cranberry soup," Hermione said simply, in a choked voice.
The painting opened immediately and the girl hurried through the doorway and into the silent, dark Common Room. No one was there yet. All the students were probably still eating dinner in the Great Hall. Without stopping, she hurried up the steps and into her deserted dormitory. She closed the door behind her and leaned her back against it, stopping at last, panting loudly. A couple of the tears overflowed her eyes and escaped hopelessly, sliding down her skin. But she pushed them away with a fist, before they slipped past her chin.
She didn't want to cry for Malfoy. She couldn't cry for someone like him. She couldn't let him hurt her. He didn't deserve to have the power to hurt her.
Swallowing the tears that threatened to burn her from the inside, she slowly made her way to her bed and sat down on the edge. She didn't bother to turn on any lights. Crookshanks was sleeping on the quilt, curled up in a ball of tan. Hermione rubbed her nose with the back of her hand and took a deep breath. She tried to swallow but her mouth was dry.
'I'll kill you, Mudblood. You're at the top of my list.'
"You are completely insane, Draco Malfoy," Hermione articulated in the darkness. And now she did, without realising it, drop two tears that burned her skin.