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CHAPTER 7

Malfoy's ring

The shouting on the Quidditch pitch was absolutely deafening. It came especially loudly from the red and gold and the green and silver stands. It was the first match of the season, but all the students agreed, with varying degrees of enthusiasm, that matches between Slytherin and Gryffindor were especially exciting.

And it wasn't just the excitement in the stands; the stress in the Changing Rooms was almost palpable.

"You know," Harry was saying, looking at his entire team and running his hand compulsively over and over his already tousled hair, "this is the first match of the year, so there's not that much pressure. We can always recover if we have to. But I don't think I need to remind you that it's against Slytherin, so —" he left the sentence unfinished, but his teammates nodded, indicating that they understood. "Let's do the best we can, shall we? Let's do it the way we've trained. C'mon, let's go!"

The team let out a collective cheer and, after clapping their hands together in support, they strode out onto the pitch, amid shouts of support from their House and boos from the snake House. Harry fixed his attention on Ron as they walked out, wishing to see that he had found a way to control his nerves. But his friend's almost milky pallor showed him that there was nothing to be done. It was all down to luck now.

"The Gryffindor team is already on the field!" shouted Justin Finch-Fletchley, the commentator for the match, as jovially as he could, watched closely by Professor McGonagall. The boy looked nervous, as it was his first time as a commentator, but he was doing his best. "First up is Ron Weasley, followed by his sister Ginny Weasley, and behind him come Robins, Feriwinck, Sloper, Peakes, and finally Seeker and Captain Potter!"

The Slytherin team had not yet taken to the field, so the Gryffindor team waited in the middle of the stadium, smiling and waving to their fellow lions.

"And here comes the Slytherin team!" Justin announced after a few minutes. "First we have Pucey, then Bletchley, Captain Montague, Urquhart, Beaters Crabbe and Goyle, and Seeker Malfoy!"

The Slytherin team stood in front of the Gryffindor team in defiance, amidst the cheers of their house. From a distance, Malfoy met Harry's gaze and smiled mischievously. Harry smiled back in return.

In the Gryffindor stands, of course, the lions were booing and hissing at the Slytherin team, albeit with the usual exceptions.

Neville watched with a small smile full of admiration as Seamus and Dean booed the snakes with particular enthusiasm, along with Hermione, who watched with a disgruntled expression. It was just a match, she thought. A school match. No need to take it so personally.

Hermione shook her head, dismissing the pointless idea of reprimanding them, and returned her gaze to the match. Her gaze fell on Ron, and she saw that, as she had feared, his skin looked greenish. She sighed sadly. She hoped that as the match wore on he would calm down, or their chances of winning would be greatly reduced. She glanced across the pitch and Malfoy's blond hair caught her gaze. All of his teammates were dark-haired, and he stood out noticeably. At that moment, the blond was staring at Harry, smirking mockingly. Even from a distance, his beautiful but icy eyes glinted with evil intent.

Hermione snorted and forced herself to look away to another spot on the pitch. Unable to contain herself, she reached into her coat pocket and, after a moment's rummaging, pulled it out again, a small shiny object lying on her palm. Malfoy's ring. A small silver jewel, with the Slytherin crest engraved on it, that the young woman had found among her belongings the day before. She had recognised it instantly, Malfoy had worn that ring for as long as she could remember, but that didn't diminish the surprise she felt when she found it. It took her a while to realise when she might have gotten hold of the blond's belonging, and she finally guessed that she must have picked it up inadvertently when she placed all of her books on the Library table where Malfoy and Nott were sitting. It was the only time she had ever been close enough to Malfoy to take something so personal.

Several things went through her mind when she found the ring. On the one hand, the first thing she felt was an overwhelming emptiness in her stomach. Warmth on her face. Excitement. A fleeting, involuntary thought in her mind. And it was that she would have to talk to Malfoy to return it to him. She had a reason to talk to him. A justified reason. And the first thing she had felt hadn't been fear or worry...

The heat in her face had risen at her sequence of thoughts. Now of indignation. At herself. Genuine anger. Bewilderment. She couldn't have been glad to have an excuse to go and talk to Malfoy. That didn't make any sense. Since when wasn't talking to him one of the most tedious acts of her life? It was. Of course it was. Certainly, it was.

She took a deep breath and rearranged her feelings. Now. Now she was frustrated that she'd had the bad luck to take one of his belongings. Because that meant she had to talk to him to return it to him, and she didn't want to. That's better. That's what she should have thought in the first place. And it was the only thing she allowed herself to think. She had ignored the boy completely for the last few days, and she had to keep it that way. Why was she doing it? Not because she didn't care in the least about his presence. She wasn't doing it naturally and automatically. She was making an effort to do it, out of pure spite. Because his words had affected her. Because of the horrible words he'd said to her on Hallowe'en that she couldn't get out of her mind. And because of the frustration that she still hadn't been able to stop him.

Malfoy was annoying. He was very annoying. And he was by no means leaving her head.

The idea of spying on him still stood, but Hermione was looking for the right moment for it. She didn't want the same thing that happened on Hallowe'en to happen again, she needed to plan it better. She needed an excuse, an alibi, in case he found her out, in the worst case scenario, like in that bathroom.

She looked again at the ring resting in the palm of her hand, thoughtfully. Maybe it could be useful to her after all?

Montague, the Slytherin captain, shook Harry's hand, causing an audible crack, and the members of both teams mounted their brooms. Madam Hooch released the Bludgers and also the Snitch, which fluttered close to both Seekers and then flew out of sight.

"The match begiiiiiins!" Justin yelled, jumping in his seat with excitement as Hooch blew her whistle loudly. "The Quaffle is in the possession of Ginny Weasley, of Gryffindor — Weasley passes Robins — Robins to Feriwinck — she passes it again to Robins — she's going to try to score a goal — oh, but Goyle, the Slytherin Beater, sends a Bludger at Robins — rather beastly, it must be said — she drops the Quaffle — it's picked up by Urquhart, who passes it to Captain Montague — he passes it to Bletchley — come on, Ron, you can — oh, he couldn't! SLYTHERIN SCORE! THEY LEAD THE SCORE 10-0 TO SLYTHERIN!"

Harry groaned and spun on his broom, trying to make out Ron in the distance. He stood motionless in front of the three goalposts, with a pallor that made it clear he would have collapsed if he hadn't been attached to the broom like a pliers.

"Looks like Weasley's not going to be the one to save the match, huh, Potter?!" Malfoy shouted at him as he passed him, letting out a scathing laugh.

Harry tried to ignore his comment with composure and spun back on his broom, trying to find the elusive Snitch. There was a ringing in his ears from anger. If he could find it soon, everything would be all right... Or, perhaps, Ron would calm down as the match progressed...

But his prayers went unheeded. As the minutes ticked by, the number of goals by the Slytherins was increasing, though the Gryffindors were no slouches either. Ginny, Demelza, and Satine had scored several noteworthy goals, and the gap between the scores was not too great. But they were still losing.

"And the score stands at 130 to 100, with Slytherin in the lead!" shouted Justin, who had lost all embarrassment and was commenting with total nonchalance. "Apparently, having Beaters with arms bigger than my neck is benefiting the Slytherin team…"

The comment was met with shouts of protest from the snakes and cheers from the lions. Harry burst out laughing and turned his head to look smirking at Ginny, who was passing him at the time. The young red-haired girl returned a beaming smile.

"Hey, look over there! Slytherin's Seeker, Draco Malfoy, has dived! Did he see the Snitch?" Justin alarmed, from the commentator's stand.

In growing panic, Harry turned his broom and saw that Malfoy was indeed flying at full speed, looking triumphant, chasing a flash of gold.

"Yes, he's seen it, and now Potter's seen it too, and he's gone after him! It's on fire, ladies and gentlemen!" cried Justin, grinning, jumping up and down with excitement.

Harry was whipping his broom between his teeth, praying that he would make it in time to catch Malfoy. He couldn't see the disappointed faces of his teammates if they lost. Ron would throw himself into the lake with a stone tied to his ankle, thinking it was his fault... And Ginny would look at him with desolation in her gorgeous brown eyes...

The young Potter managed to get alongside Malfoy, bumping into his shoulder as he stuck to his side. The Snitch was flying just a few feet away from them. They couldn't see the stands due to their speed. They were barely a couple of feet above the pitch.

"I don't think so, Potter," Malfoy growled through his teeth, elbowing the dark-haired boy hard, trying to throw him off track. Harry cursed under his breath, his side aching sharply, but he didn't move an inch. He wasn't about to give up.

Another nudge from the blond staggered him, but he didn't pull away. His eyes were fixed on the glittering Snitch. He wanted to reach up and grab it, but he needed one arm to hold onto the broom and the other to protect himself from Malfoy's furious nudges.

In the end, he couldn't take it any longer.

Malfoy made a move to hit him again, but Harry's hand was quicker. He clenched it into a firm fist and threw it, unchecked by violence, at the blond's body. He was only trying to push him back, but was so unlucky that his blow hit him full in the face. Draco's hands came loose from the broom, causing him to lose his balance and fall hopelessly. He hit the ground violently and rolled across the grass in a haphazard and inelegant manner for several seconds until he came to an abrupt halt, lying on the ground wrapped in his green robes. His broom landed silently a little ahead of him.

Harry looked back for a moment, but then raised his hand, out of inertia, and closed it around the Snitch. He felt a flutter in his stomach that made him shiver.

"YEAH!" he shouted, jubilant, raising his fist with which he held the winged ball.

He stared at the Snitch, grinning, amidst the deafening cheers of the fans, until he noticed the bright, wet red spots on the back of his hand. The fluttering in his stomach turned into a deep emptiness. He looked down at the grass with an unpleasantly sour feeling and watched as Malfoy staggered to his feet, holding his nose firmly in both hands.

"AWESOME, HARRY! YOU'RE THE BEST! WELL DONE, CHAMP!" roared Seamus and Dean, seconded by Neville, jumping dangerously close to the railing, waving their Gryffindor flags and scarves.

Hermione, on the other hand, did not share their jubilation. Her heart had been flipped out of its socket when she saw Malfoy fall off the broom. And it was still hammering hard against her ribs, unable, it seemed, to normalise. Her ears stopped working as well. When she saw the blond hit the ground, her body unconsciously propelled herself forward, towards the railing, as if trying to reach him from the stands. She hadn't noticed anything else. She didn't even see Harry catching the Snitch. And, if it weren't for the shouts of happiness and the roar of the lion on Luna's head, she wouldn't have known that they had won the match. Her eyes only saw Malfoy. They only focused on him. The knot in her chest, which she tried to lighten by twisting her scarf in her hands, only lessened when she saw him stagger up from the ground, holding his bloody nose tightly.

He seemed fine.

The girl could feel her throat beginning to dry out from her rapid inhalations.

She shouldn't be so distressed, and she certainly shouldn't be paying attention to him, but she couldn't take her eyes off him. A Petrificus Totalus would have had no better effect.

"Fantastic, Harry! You did it!" the rest of his teammates shouted as they hugged him tightly, all of them with their feet on the ground.

The dark-haired boy smiled in embarrassment, allowing himself to be hugged and kissed. He still held the Snitch in his right hand, and watched, cheering, as the rest of Gryffindor House fought to get down to the pitch as quickly as possible from the stands, all chanting happily.

"You were great, mate!" Ron shouted to him as he reached his side, forcing a grin and high-fiving Harry.

"You too, Ron, seriously!" he assured the dark-haired boy, smiling honestly at him. He barely smiled back, showing him that he wasn't so sure.

"You guys played great!" Hermione suddenly exclaimed, smiling, appearing out of the crowd coming down from the stands and hugging both friends at the same time. Neville, Dean and Seamus followed behind her with the same happy expression.

"How touching!" a cold voice suddenly shouted, causing a sudden silence. Harry's companions broke away from him and stared at the speaker. "That was nice of Potter to save Weasley's arse for a change!"

Draco stood a few feet away from them, pale, smeared with dirt, and still with blood trickling down his nose to his lips. But he still had the strength to look at them all with disgust and superiority.

"Shut up, Malfoy!" Ginny snapped, taking a step towards him. Harry grabbed her arm, just in case. "If you are a sore loser, it's your problem!"

"I am a good loser," the blond corrected, lifting his chin. "As long as the other guy wins properly. I didn't know that breaking the opponent's nose was within the rules."

"You hit me first," Harry spat coldly. "I only defended myself."

"Do you have proof of what you're saying?" Malfoy hissed, narrowing his grey eyes. "Because I have a broken nose."

"Don't you dare threaten us!" Sloper shouted. "We've all seen what's happened, even if Hooch didn't notice!"

Shouts of approval erupted from the Gryffindor team, seconding their teammate. Malfoy gave a mocking half-smirk, narrowing his grey eyes into slits. He was no fool. He knew he was on the losing end of it. But they weren't going to get away with it.

"Hey, hey, don't worry, I won't rat you out. Gotta be generous with the plebs," he agreed, raising both hands in a peace sign, with a smile that betrayed mischief. He turned and added, with a grimace of mock annoyance, "For once in their lives the Weasleys are going to see something as shiny as a Snitch, I'm not going to spoil the moment for them... But tell their mother gently, lest she be scared to death."

"SON OF A BITCH!" Ron roared, dropping the broom and making as if to lunge at the blond, red with anger. "I'LL KILL YOU!"

"Ron, no!" Hermione shrieked, stepping in front of him and holding him as best she could, pushing him off her chest. Seamus and Dean helped her, tugging at his robes. "It's not worth it...!"

"TO TALK ABOUT MY MOTHER, YOU WASH YOUR MOUTH OUT, YOU VERMIN!" Ginny shouted at him, trying to wiggle out of Harry's grip on her, her nails ready to claw.

Harry looked around as he held the redhead, searching for Hooch with his eyes in case things got even more out of hand, but when he finally caught sight of her, he saw that she was busy berating Crabbe for something beyond his knowledge.

The young Malfoy said nothing more and walked away on his way to the Changing Rooms with his head held high, heedless of their shouts and insults.

"Let's go!" Ron finally gasped, pulling his robes back on. "If I see his pig face again I won't control myself. Let's go to the castle."

The rest of his teammates nodded and walked towards the exit of the pitch, still wearing their Quidditch robes, trying to recapture the jovial atmosphere of a few moments ago. Hermione walked after them for a few yards but then stopped. She turned her head and watched as Malfoy continued to walk away in the direction of the Changing Rooms. His Slytherin teammates were out the door at that moment, already changed, but none of them looked him in the face or showed any sign of seeing him. Nor, of course, did they make any sign of waiting for him.

Malfoy followed them with his eyes for a few moments as they walked away. He didn't look back, so he didn't notice Hermione staring at him. He just looked away from them and walked through the door to the Changing Rooms and out of sight inside. Before he disappeared behind the huge door, Hermione caught a fleeting glimpse of his face: it no longer wore the haughty expression it had shown in front of the Gryffindor team, but a... sad one. Sad was the right word. She had never seen such an expression on his face before, and she felt her heart constrict. She kept looking in the blond's direction until after he had left.

Ashamed of herself, she took a deep breath to erase the last traces of pity from within her. She shouldn't feel sorry for Malfoy. It was unfair, especially after all the outrageous things he had just said.

She looked straight ahead again and watched her friends walk away. They didn't seem to have noticed that she was no longer by their side, surrounded by so many people. She took another deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment, pondering what she was going to do. Why did she feel like she was desperately looking for an excuse to go and see Malfoy? Was she really considering going to spy on him right now? It wasn't the right situation, far from it. Was she really trying to justify herself by thinking it was for the greater good, to sort out Ancient Runes? Why did she feel like all she really wanted to do was... see him?

She hesitated, worried. She fingered her coat pocket, as if checking something, and finally came to a decision. She turned around, walking briskly towards the Changing Rooms.

She stopped in front of the white door, which suddenly seemed much taller than she was. Too tall. She took a breath to calm herself and opened a crack in the door, slowly.

The Changing Room was dimly lit by the outside light streaming through the small windows, and an almost transparent cloud of mist filled the room. It was obvious that the players had showered only a few minutes ago, as wet footprints and puddles could still be seen on the tiled floor. The humid heat was oppressive. There was a single Slytherin team robe on one of the benches, and its owner stood with his back to it, leaning over a worn washbasin, his face under the running tap, and snorting softly to expel the water that entered his nose. He was wearing only the regulation jumper, trousers and boots of the Quidditch uniform, stained with mud as was his robe. That fact took away an unexpected and overwhelming worry that had not been on her mind until now. The fact that she found him there with no clothes on. It was a changing room, for God's sake, how had she not thought of that? But no, thank heavens, he was dressed.

Hermione, pulling herself together, stared at him for a few moments, disappointed. He wasn't doing anything strange. There was no point in her spying on him there. Even though she knew that before she went in there, she felt like an idiot. What information about Malfoy was she going to find out by spying on him in the Changing Rooms, after losing a match? What evil or dark arts could he conjure up in there?

She stood in the doorframe, hesitating. Trying to decide what to do next. Should she go in and give him back the ring, and then leave, without giving it any more thought? Yes, that was the right thing to do. What her common sense told her to do. Then she wouldn't have wasted her time getting there. However, a little voice in the back of her mind questioned whether it would be better to keep it as an excuse if she decided to spy on him in the future and he found out. She could say she was going to return the ring and justify her presence anywhere... It wasn't exactly ethical, but she needed to take care of her safety. Unfortunately, there was something inside her that, despite everything, encouraged her to alert Malfoy to her presence at that moment. A part inside her that simply urged her to talk to him. What about? She didn't know. But her brain was searching, in the background, for excuses for it. Without her permission.

She frowned. And bit her lip. Feeling her ears heat up. Feeling ridiculous. And angry. Why was she thinking something like that? She didn't want to talk to him. She had never wanted to, nor would she ever want to, talk to Draco Malfoy without a good reason. They had nothing to talk about, so why was she considering throwing away the effort she'd been making for days to ignore him?

As the young woman struggled to clear her thoughts, Draco turned off the tap and leaned against the sink with both hands. He kept his head down, letting the droplets slide down his bloodied face, falling into the dirty basin. Hermione, despite not seeing his face, it was instantly clear to her that something wasn't well. Malfoy wasn't well.

Draco turned his face slowly to his right, and the girl recoiled instinctively, thinking he was going to discover her there, but she controlled herself not to make a sound. And he didn't see her. The blond's eyes were fixed on a small lighted candle that hung on a wall, illuminating part of the Changing Room, and which was only a short distance away from him. The light from the candle reflected in the young man's clear eyes and she could see anger in them. Bitterness. Suffering.

Hermione sensed what was about to happen before it did, but she still couldn't help but gasp when Draco raised his right hand and struck the candle with his clenched fist with all his might. There was the sound of shattering glass, and the light from the object was extinguished. Several crystals of different sizes landed on the ground, creating a shimmering blanket. The girl covered her mouth with both hands. Draco stood for several seconds that lasted an eternity with his hand still in the shattered lamp, his eyes closed.

Hermione felt paralysed with fear. Her body trembled with pent-up anguish, and she didn't dare take her hands away from her mouth for fear that her agitated breathing would give her away. She was unable to tear her eyes away from Malfoy's face. It revealed a despondency that the girl could never have imagined in those features. He was devastated.

The young Slytherin finally pulled his hand away from the candle and dropped his arm to the side of his body, lowering his face at the same time. His hand had several cuts on it, and small drops of blood trickled down his fingers, all of which came to rest silently at the blond's feet, which he didn't even seem to notice. He squared his shoulders, seemingly calmer, and turned the tap back on to dip his injured hand into it.

As the sound of running water filled the room, Hermione felt her body's mobility return. The first thing she managed to do was take a step back from the door, stepping out of the doorway and letting it close almost completely on its own, and then turning her back on it. She still had both hands over her mouth and her eyes looked bigger than usual. She couldn't quite take in what she had just seen. She wished she had never seen it.

"I never thought Malfoy could feel this way... Did he really self-harm for letting his teammates down? For losing the match because of him?"

It was no news that, for Malfoy, his reputation was everything. People's opinions were important to him. He had always been a bully and a show-off, always calling attention to himself, always wanting to prove he was better than everyone else... She knew Malfoy was like that. But to see how he reacted when he didn't succeed was, genuinely, bitter. Seeing his pain and frustration shouldn't be eliciting any kind of empathy from her. But it did. She could really understand what it was like to try to mask insecurities and fear of failure with exaggerated self-confidence and a haughty attitude...

The temptation to run away, forget everything, and go back to her student life was too tempting. It was just what she wanted to do. But her legs refused to obey her. Her legs wanted to stay there, by the half-closed door of the Changing Rooms, cursing herself for having meddled again where she shouldn't have, with the consequence of having seen again something she shouldn't have.

"I wanted to find a weakness, something to use against him to humiliate him... But not something like this," she thought, disheartened. "I can't use something like that against him. Not even for the greater good."

She closed her eyes tightly and removed her hands from her mouth. She couldn't leave now. Not after what she'd seen. But she couldn't go in there either, no way. With an anguish-laden sigh, she threw her head back. With such bad luck that she hit the ajar door with the back of her neck, opening it slightly to the accompaniment of a resounding creak. She leapt forward. Eyes as wide as saucers. Shit.

The tap could no longer be heard.

"Who is it?" Malfoy's cold voice came from inside.

Hermione bit her lip. She stared at the door for a few seconds and then took a deep breath, regaining her composure. She had no choice now. Fate had decided for her. She raised her right fist, her left hand still clutching her crumpled Gryffindor scarf, and knocked on the door three times. It sounded a lot louder than she had intended. She tried to fill herself with courage before opening the door again, this time in one determined movement. Malfoy stood with his back to the sink, staring at the doorframe in genuine wonderment. His hand was no longer bleeding; he had wrapped a small handkerchief around it. His nose was still bleeding.

Silence pressed on their eardrums for the few seconds of stupefaction the young man experienced until he managed to understand what he was seeing.

"You again?" was the first thing Draco managed to ask, as soon as he regained his speech. Blood mixed with water was still trickling down his nose and chin, but the boy seemed to have forgotten all about it. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Hermione opened and closed her mouth, gasping like a fish, but she couldn't get a word out. Her legs tingled uncomfortably with embarrassment. She was speechless.

"I was waiting for you outside," she finally managed to lie half-heartedly, speaking in an impersonal tone. "I wanted to talk to you."

"And spy on you to find out your weak point, but I didn't find out what I wanted... "

Malfoy looked capable of throwing some object at her.

"Talk to me?" he repeated, with visible desperation. Making it quite clear that the last conversation they'd had was more than enough.

Hermione felt the courage take hold of her, flooding her with bravery. The situation had slipped through her fingers again, and she had no choice. Once again, she had proven herself to be a nefarious spy. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the ring with the Slytherin symbol on it that the boy thought he had lost the day before.

"I came to bring this to you," she lied serenely, raising her hand to show it to him. "I think I took it from the Library yesterday, without noticing. That's all."

She moved to the bench to leave the ring there, next to the young man's clothes, careful not to look the boy in the eye as she approached him. She turned, her thick hair waving, and made to head out the door again. Suddenly, she wanted to get out of there as soon as possible; all the thoughts she had had before going in there now seemed ridiculous and meaningless. But a slender hand gripping her arm stopped her abruptly in mid-step. She felt an emptiness in her stomach. Hermione turned, startled, and faced Malfoy, who was glaring at her with those eyes of such an unusual colour. She felt tiny all of a sudden, diminished by the intense stare he was giving her and his strong hand wrapped around her arm.

Never before, in the seven years she had known him, had she been so close to him.

Hermione glanced down at the young man's hand and back to his eyes, looking bewildered, and that was enough for a fleeting expression of panic to cross Draco's features. He released her instantly, as if he'd had a cramp, and Hermione could almost hear him inwardly cursing himself, insulting himself for having touched a Mudblood. He seemed somewhat dazed all of a sudden. Straightening up, struggling to regain his poise, Malfoy wiped the hand he'd been holding her with, undisguised, on the fabric of his trousers.

"Do you really think you're just going to walk away?" he snapped, his voice low and steady, looking down at her with contempt. "I'm not buying the story that you've come here to give me back my ring, which, by the way, I'm going to burn now that I know where it's been." His pale eyes narrowed. "I want to know what you're up to, Granger. Why you've come to see me again with a ridiculous excuse. Why you're following me everywhere now."

Hermione could hear his voice, but it was as if it was coming to her brain with a delay. The feeling of Malfoy's hand squeezing her arm lingered inside her, dulling her other senses. Her heart hammered with pure frustration, and fear. Why had she gotten so nervous?

"Ridiculous excuse? Would you rather I hadn't given you the ring back? Would you rather I'd kept it?" Hermione questioned with slight derision. Now that his hand was away from her body, it was easier to face him and speak with her usual aplomb. He stared at her, unperturbed. "Since you seem to appreciate my company and insist on keeping me here, I'll add something else," she dared to say, again wryly, trying to change the subject. "I find it outrageous what you've just done, you know? Insulting Ron and Ginny like that… It's not their fault that you lost, and their mother even less so. Besides, we all saw how you started hitting Harry, so you can't blame him for defending himself," she said in a breathless rush, not taking her eyes off the boy's grey eyes. "You deserved it for what you did to him. In fact, you should be thankful that Madam Hooch didn't see it and didn't punish you."

Malfoy continued to stare at her, puzzled by her words. He didn't seem to have quite taken in what she had said.

"What are you ruminating on, Granger?" Malfoy hissed, looking at the girl as if she were crazy; or as if he was still trying to assimilate her presence there. "I haven't asked your opinion on anything at all. And you haven't answered my question. Why are you really here? Why are you following me?"

Hermione tried to breathe normally, though it was beginning to be difficult. Suddenly, she felt awkward. Malfoy might be many things, but he wasn't a fool. Even if he didn't show himself to be clever very often, he was. Hermione didn't plan on proving her defeat easily, however.

"I find it absurd to have to justify such an accusation. It was never my intention to follow you anywhere, I assure you," Hermione spat, trying to speak calmly. "Don't think you're so important, because you're not. My only purpose with you right now is that you leave the students in Ancient Runes class alone. I don't give a damn about anything else to do with you."

"And if that's the case, why haven't you reported me to your hero Dumbledore yet? I'm still waiting for your heroic denunciation. You could get rid of me in a heartbeat," Draco snorted, arching a mocking eyebrow. Hermione swallowed, admitting the logic of his question, but lifted her chin and snapped:

"As I explained, I haven't done it until now because I was trying to be considerate and save you trouble. But, now, I no longer want any of that," she assured, scathing, with a furious glint in her eyes. "The problem is, as you well know, because you're not stupid, that I'm alone in this. I have no proof of what you're doing, our classmates won't testify on my behalf for fear of your reprisals, and Binns isn't finding out anything. But you know what? It doesn't matter. I told you, I'm enough to stop you on my own. If Professor Binns won't stop you, and I can't go to the teachers, I will. It's just taking me a bit of time," she spat with slight derision.

"I'll sit and wait, then, or I'll get tired," Draco muttered wryly, taking another step toward her and glaring at her. Then he put the irony aside, "Look, I'm getting sick of you. I'm sick of you going through life with your airs and graces, thinking you're better than me. Thinking you've got the absolute truth just because you're standing next to that prat Saint Potter."

"I never thought I was better than you, Malfoy," Hermione said slowly, shaking her head, "It's you who keeps repeating that you're superior to me. You know, I'll let you in on a secret: as much as you think you're better than me, you and I are on the same level."

"On the same level? Ha!" Malfoy let out a loud, contemptuous laugh. "Granger, please come back to reality, will you? I come from one of the sovereign races of the earth, the race that will rule the world one day, while you are at the bottom of the ladder. You are nothing. You are no more than any insect."

The young woman spasmed involuntarily at the harshness of those words.

"You made it very clear to me on Hallowe'en that you considered me the lowest of the low, but thanks for the reminder. It never hurts," Hermione replied quietly. Her face had lost much of its colour. A sudden anger came over her, and without pausing to reflect, she pointed to the broken lamp with one hand, "Was it you who broke it, Malfoy?"

The reminder was like a slap in the blond's face. He tensed as if she had shrieked at him, though the girl's words were utterly calm. He seemed to be wondering if she had seen it, or if she had guessed it. The flaps of his nose vibrated as he took a deep, indignant breath, not looking away from the girl's eyes. It was a battle, and neither of them was willing to be the first to avert their gaze.

Something resembling a biting smile came to the blond's lips.

"That's none of your business. You have no right to spy on me or interrogate me whenever you feel like it, so get the hell over it. You're nothing but a busybody. And just so you know, I'm not buying the story of you suddenly being considerate —" he sarcastically repeated the word that the young woman used, "— with me without any other hidden intention. Do you really think I'm that stupid, Granger? Stop pretending that you wanted to help me because no one believes that!"

Hermione shook her head in exhaustion.

"You don't understand anything, I just told you that —"

"The one who doesn't understand anything is you, Mudblood," Draco interrupted her, so loudly that Hermione jumped at the abrupt change in tone. "I don't know how the hell to explain it to you any more, whether in gobbledegook or mermish, to get it through your deformed head. I don't know how the hell to make you understand that I don't even want to have to breathe the same air as you! I'm sick of putting up with you!" he exclaimed, clenching his fists and raising his voice with every syllable.

"Well, I'm sick of you too! I'm sick of your nonsense in Ancient Runes! And so are our classmates!" she yelled, her breath hitching at the cruelty of his words, but still not lowering herself to look away. "I'm going to stop you, Malfoy. Whether you like it or not. Even if it takes me the whole year to do it. You're not getting rid of me that easily."

"Bloody hell, Granger, you're driving me mad…" he despaired, fingers twitching in the air as if what he wanted most in the world was to strangle her. "If you're so keen to do your bloody good deed for the day, go and defend your stupid house-elves or your obnoxious blood traitor friends! Mind your own fucking business and live your own fucking life — !"

"I'm not going to — !"

"W-what's going on here?" asked a terrified voice from the doorway.

Hermione turned and Malfoy looked up, both of them startled. Theodore Nott, now fully recovered from his cold, was staring at them from the doorway. His gaze shifted from Hermione, red with indignation and with her hands clenched into tight fists around her scarf, to Draco, equally flushed and bleeding profusely from the nose. They were barely half a metre away from each other, both shrieking like mad.

The girl took a step away from Draco, breathing heavily. She couldn't say a word. If she didn't get out of there as soon as possible she would lose her temper completely. Her whole body was shaking with fury, and she was forced to swallow her saliva before striding towards the door, pushing Nott aside, and storming out of the room without looking at either boy.

Nott watched her as she walked out, puzzled and uneasy. Malfoy didn't move from where he stood and just tried to catch his breath.

"What have you done to her?" Nott snapped censuringly as the young woman walked out and slammed the door behind her.

Draco's mouth and eyes opened wide, and he looked at his friend as if he had just confessed to him that he was a house-elf in disguise.

"H-how is this my fault?!" the blond croaked, pointing an accusing finger at himself and looking around as if he expected to find witnesses to defend him. "It was that damn brat who snuck in here to torment me, with the stupid excuse of giving me back my ring — !"

"Your ring?" Nott repeated, genuinely bewildered. "What ring?"

"The ring I always wear. The one with the Slytherin crest. She says she took it from the Library yesterday, without realising," Draco revealed impatiently. He looked at it, placed on the wooden bench, tiny and shiny. He added, as if he couldn't contain himself, "I'm sure she was trying to steal it from me…"

"Is that all? And how on earth did you two end up arguing like that, then? It's silly…" the dark-haired boy blurted out, as if he couldn't believe that both of them had so little patience that a simple ring was enough to infuriate them.

"Oh, she also took the opportunity to tell me off for the silly things I said to the Weasleys out there," he added casually, resigned, as if he expected his friend to share his opinion that it was a trifle unimportant.

"Yes, I heard what you told them," Nott replied, frowning. "And I also think that you've gone too far. None of that was necessary."

"Fuck, Nott, not you…" the blond begged weakly, almost with a whimper. He suddenly felt exhausted. He felt something pasty on his lips as he spoke and suddenly remembered that he was still bleeding from his nose. And he also remembered that it hurt like hell.

"It's the truth," Nott insisted, as his partner turned the tap back on and dipped his face, trying to stop the bleeding. "Which would you rather I tell you the truth, or what you want to hear? For the latter you already have Crabbe and Goyle."

Draco turned off the tap and held onto the edge of the sink with both hands, struggling not to lose his cool again. If he couldn't control the anger he was feeling, he was going to end up having a heart attack.

"I haven't told them anything that serious, it's not a big deal," he said, speaking slowly, as if he was the only one who understood the situation. "Potter broke my nose, and nobody said anything about it."

"I'll save telling you that it was you who started it, shall I?" Nott replied, walking over to the wooden cubbyhole that doubled as a locker and pulling out a towel, which he tossed to him. Draco snorted in frustration, catching it on the fly.

"Still, she's not one to come and berate me for anything. I'm beginning to think she needs to tell someone off at least once a day or her know-it-all brain will explode..."

He sat on the bench, pressing the towel to his nose. He kept silent, determined not to tell Nott any more about the argument. He didn't feel like reliving it. But he couldn't get it out of his mind. Granger wanted him to stop making a fuss in Ancient Runes class, which was more than obvious and didn't take him by surprise. But he couldn't quite understand why she didn't report him to Dumbledore. He was missing something. How she had justified it that time made sense, he admitted. It was the girl's word against a teacher's, given that Binns was so useless that he was probably not only oblivious to what was going on in the classroom, but he hadn't even noticed. But she was a Prefect, surely she would be taken into account even so. Even if the vast majority of their classmates lied and pretended nothing was going on, the teachers would be more alert.

That was all very well and good, and it was coherent, but what Draco couldn't believe was that she hadn't denounced him out of consideration until now. Out of not wanting to cause him any more trouble. Of course she did. She was just a filthy, know-it-all, repellent Mudblood. It didn't make any sense. If you hate someone, you're not considerate of them. It's simple, pure logic. Granger wasn't acting reasonable. And that was getting on his nerves.

Another possibility, which suddenly struck Draco, was that Potter and Weasley were behind the whole thing... That was it! Those two had to be plotting something against him. He felt excited at the possibility, relieved to find a coherent reason for Granger's behaviour, but he felt himself deflate at the realisation that he wasn't convinced by his own hypothesis. He couldn't say why, but he sensed that Potter and Weasley were not behind what was happening. They would report him to Dumbledore without hesitation, it was more than obvious. And they would confront him directly, not use the girl as a go-between. They wouldn't behave the way Granger was behaving.

That Mudblood was a strange one. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't understand her.

"Has Granger said anything to you about Ancient Runes?" Nott wanted to know, snapping him out of his thoughts. "I thought I heard her shout something about it..."

"Bah, the usual," Draco mumbled, distracted. "She wants me to stop stirring up the class.. It's always the same..."

"Granger's doing the right thing," Nott commented, looking carefully at his friend and speaking to him with complete sincerity. "You're unfair to her. You know she's right."

Draco snorted and looked away. His eyes suddenly seemed to Nott to be bottomless pits.

"She's nothing but a busybody," the blond spat, with utter conviction. "She's an inflexible who wants everyone to think the way she does. And I'm not going to give in to anything she tells me..."

"How can you — ?" Nott despaired, looking at him hopelessly.

"Nott, you're not going to change my mind," Draco replied. "So leave me alone."

His friend obeyed and fell silent, but not before he let out a heavy sigh, as if Draco was exhausting him. Draco removed the towel from his nose and looked at the fact that the bleeding had almost completely stopped. It still burned like fire, though. He would go to Madam Pomfrey later and get it fixed.

"What happened there?" Nott asked suddenly, pointing to the shattered lamp and the shards of glass littering the floor. Draco felt too weak to come up with anything too elaborate.

"I don't know, it was like that when I arrived," he lied impromptu; his listless tone made it believable. He hurried to make sure his right hand was out of his friend's sight. Though, with any luck, he'd think he'd hurt himself falling off the broom.

Nott shook his head in frustration.

"The team must be pretty pissed off about losing the match against Gryffindor," Nott corroborated, his voice low and serious, indicating his lack of surprise that they'd broken the lamp themselves. "If I were you, I wouldn't go to the Common Room for a couple of hours... or days. You don't want to meet anyone from our House right now, they won't be happy to see you."

Draco sighed heavily, closing his eyes. An intense bitterness came over him again.

Damn Gryffindors.

Damn Potter.

Damn Granger.