Hello, everyone! How are you? 😊 Surprise! Here I am with another chapter, the second this week 😊 I've been on vacation, and I've had time to prepare it sooner hehehe! this coming week I'll be busier, and I'm not sure if I'll have time to post another one, maybe on the weekend — I hope so 😅 — but the next week there will be a new chapter without fail 😊
I hope you like this new chapter a lot! Thanks for all your support, it means the world! And thanks in advance for reading! 😊 😘
CHAPTER 19
Honour
"What the hell happened with you and Granger?" was the first thing Nott asked, without even greeting Draco, as soon as the blond got to where he was waiting for him.
Theodore was leaning against a stone wall in a first-floor hallway, but, as soon as he saw Draco appear, he straightened up, pulling away from the wall. It was Monday afternoon, and both friends had agreed that morning to meet at the Marble Staircase, at the height of the first floor, to attend that afternoon's Transfiguration class together. They didn't share morning classes, nor had they eaten together. They hadn't seen each other just over the weekend either.
Draco stopped short, in front of him, and looked up at him with his pale eyes slightly wide. His heart pounded against his breastbone, the sound echoing in his ears, and he found himself suddenly unable to draw breath. He could only blink, dumbfounded at his sudden accusation. What was that about? Had he seen them in the Library? Had he seen the…?
Oh, shit. No, no, no…
He couldn't believe his bad luck. Something like this couldn't have happened...
"Hello to you too," he forced himself to articulate, with a slightly ironic tone. Even though he felt like he was starting to sweat. "What are you talking about? What happens with Granger?"
"Did you get grounded yesterday for making fun of her?"
It took Draco several seconds to realise what he was talking about. When he did, the first thing he did was pick up his soul, which had slipped to his feet. The second thing was trying to look at him in utter disbelief as he secretly struggled to regain the normal pulse rate of a seventeen year old, not a squirrel's.
"Are you talking about when they took her bag? How did you find out? I find it incredible that Zabini and the others would talk to you for the first time in years to tell you something unimportant like that..."
"They haven't told me. I heard them making fun of it this morning, in the room, after you left. They have been discussing the respective punishments imposed on you all by Snape on Granger's orders," Nott clarified. He kept looking at him with reproachful blue eyes.
"Oh, yeah, that... I had to tidy up the stupid Library. Thanks to Granger, indeed," Draco admitted, grimacing in his best disinterested way, slinging the bag's strap better over his shoulder and slipping his other hand into the pocket of his robes, trying to look listless.
"Did a Doxy get into your brain or what?" his friend insisted, immune to his attitude.
"Me? Why me?" Draco defended himself, not quite knowing against what, frowning. "I did nothing. They were already arguing when I arrived."
"Yeah, but you were the one who upset her so much that she punished you all..."
"Oh, come on, what does it matter? A punishment is nothing compared to annoying that stupid girl," he defended himself again, raising his voice, seeing that his friend did not relax his spiteful expression. He gave a wry smile, trying to speak normally. "It was just one of the thousands of insults I've said to Granger since I've known her. What's all this fuss about all of a sudden? Why does it bother you?"
"Let's go upstairs, class is about to start," Nott said more calmly, before leading his friend up the stairs. Then he picked the conversation up, "Why does it bother me? What happened to what you told me in the Changing Rooms?"
Draco clenched his jaw. He had almost forgotten about that conversation. But Nott apparently didn't, which filled him with frustration. He inwardly cursed himself with some swear words. He terribly regretted having opened his big mouth. He had always been a reserved person; he did not like to open up with anyone. Besides, he hated feeling judged, or being told what to do. For that, he already had his father. Only he could do it. His problems were his, and he always found a solution, all by himself. But not this time. This time, possibly the only time in his life that he really should have kept his thoughts to himself, he had decided to let off steam with Nott.
With Nott.
The most sincere person in the world, the one who always told him the truth, whether he liked it or not. The only one around him who wasn't looking for his fucking approval.
And, possibly for that reason, his only friend.
"Oh, fuck, you're talking about that... Oh, c'mon, you can't still be thinking about it, I'd forgotten all about it. It was just nonsense," Draco mumbled, drumming his fingers on the stone balustrade of the staircase as they ascended. "I'd just had a fight with her and my head was numb. I was angry, that's all. Feeling attracted to Granger... Ha!" He faked a loud chuckle as best he could. "Merlin, you're delusional! You managed to make me laugh, I'll give you that... How could you even consider something like that? I didn't think you'd consider me capable of stooping so low... You said yourself at the end that it didn't make any sense, I don't understand what you're shocked about now."
Nott watched him intently as they walked, a shadow of uncertainty in his bright eyes. He did not seem impressed, or convinced, by his words.
"Are you serious? I find that a very odd change of attitude," Nott snorted, still scornful.
"Oh, come on, Nott, please…" the blond replied with desperate bluntness. "Fuck, I just said that I felt a bit weird about her. Now I find out that 'weird' is synonymous with 'I love that Mudblood against all odds'," he snarled, annoyed. Though he couldn't help but wonder, ruefully and grumpily, where he'd come up with such bullshit. He pulled himself together, and added more sharply, "It was just a one-off, Merlin's beard. I obviously hate Granger. Do you need me to spell it out for you? Because that's all I'm missing, come on… If I'd known that you'd make such a big deal out of it, I wouldn't have told you anything."
"Did you fight with her in Hogsmeade too?"
Draco stopped dead in the middle of two steps, as if he had run into an invisible wall. He looked at his friend, who had climbed one more step by inertia, trying not to let panic shine through his eyes. A couple of students passed them from the left, annoyed by the sudden blocking of their path.
"What about Hogsmeade?" Draco asked roughly.
"Well, I don't know, you tell me... Did something happen to you there? Daphne saw you running past Madam Puddifoot's," his friend revealed, looking him straight in the eye. He arched a dark eyebrow too. "You told me several times that you weren't going, I was quite surprised when Daphne saw you. It didn't bother me, I don't mean that; we're grown-ups already," he added with more emphasis, perhaps thinking that Draco's slightly discomposed expression was because he'd gone to the village behind his back. "But I did find it odd that Daphne saw you looking so upset. And the first thing that came to my mind was that you were fighting with Granger again, or something like that... She has the ability to upset you like no other lately. Since we haven't seen each other much I couldn't ask you, I didn't want to do it in the room in front of everyone. Just in case."
Draco breathed in through every pore in his body, if that was even possible. Or, at least, that's how he felt. Nott hadn't heard about the Hogsmeade kiss either... Glorious Merlin, thank you... It would have been the last straw. It was what he needed to complete the run of bad luck he was having regarding Granger. He just needed someone to find out what was happening. He felt a chill run down his spine at the mere thought of such a thing.
At the last sentence, Draco let out a careless snort. He resumed the task of climbing the last steps, with renewed confidence.
"You're making such a fuss on your own. I was running away from Pansy, that was all. She was such a pain that day..." he outlined a sly smile that was the most believable thing he could do. He didn't even know if Pansy had gone to Hogsmeade. "She finally convinced me to go with her. I didn't tell you because it was last minute, and besides, I didn't want to spoil your date with Greengrass. I figured you'd want to be alone, not putting up with me and Pansy." He sighed haughtily and theatrically. "What can I do, mate, chicks are after me..."
Nott, who had been looking at him with a raised brow, snorted unimpressed, returning his gaze straight ahead when they reached the upstairs hallway.
"Now I find out that 'Pansy' is synonymous with 'chicks'."
Draco gave him his best scornful look, but said nothing more. If Nott had believed it, he wasn't going to push his luck any further. They turned a corner, in silence, and entered a new corridor, crowded with students. As they did so, the dark-haired boy frowned and nudged his friend to get his attention, then surreptitiously pointed to the front, commenting:
"Look who's there."
Draco scrutinised the second-floor hallway they were in, trying to discern what he was pointing at among the crowd of strangers; most, Hufflepuffs from some lower year. Suddenly, he made out among the crowd a small group of people in black and green robes who were laughing wildly.
"Superb..." Draco muttered wearily, without thinking, looking at the group of people he least wanted to see. Zabini, Warrington, and Bletchley. At least, Crabbe and Goyle weren't there.
It was already the fifth time since Saturday that they reminded him, excited and proud, how 'broken' he had left the Mudblood the other day. He couldn't listen to it anymore. The next one who told him, he'd put his head in a cauldron full of Kappas. And every time that uncontrollable thought popped into his head, he became more and more frustrated with himself. Against all odds, beyond all logic, he did not feel he deserved their praises. Possibly, for the first time in his life. He, unfortunately, was not proud of himself at all. Every time he remembered what had happened, his body was determined to re-experience the emptiness in his chest that Granger's disappointed look in the Transfiguration Courtyard had given him. And again and again, he felt the palm of her hand against his cheek, slapping him hard. And heard her voice telling him not to play with her. And he felt the vivid touch of her warm lips against his in the darkness of the Library... And suddenly he was overcome with the uncontrollable desire to feel them again.
And he felt weakened by such an unusual thought, as if his strength had left him. It made him break out in a cold sweat, leaving him incredulous, scared, and almost desperate.
Well, without the almost.
"If you prefer, let's go somewhere else so you won't be seen with me," he heard Nott's serene voice offer next to him. Draco blinked and looked away from the other boys and back at his friend. He was still looking at them, and he didn't seem upset. He seemed to have misinterpreted Draco's spontaneous complaint as being annoyed at being seen in his company. "I'm sure they're not planning on going to class," he also predicted, grimacing with resignation. When he met Draco's gaze, he returned it, now with slight uncertainty. "Maybe you'd rather stay with them… Are you coming with me or are you staying?"
The young Malfoy felt a light sting in his chest. He was unable to meet his gaze. Nott had his reasons for wondering: even though he considered Theodore his best friend, there were many times when he left him alone to go off with his other roommates to hang around or get into trouble. Crabbe and Goyle were fantastic bodyguards, with whom he commanded respect wherever he went. Zabini and the Quidditch team had a reputation more in keeping with his, and he liked people seeing him with them. Also, just like him, they liked to mess with the Gryffindors. Nott, on the other hand, had always been much more peaceful and calm. He had always avoided those gangs; he preferred to be on his own. Furthermore, prior to his father's imprisonment in Azkaban, he had kept himself away from any Muggle-borns, whom he simply had not deemed worth his time. Although now that way of thinking had changed radically.
Nott's company brought him prudence and good sense; the others', fun and trouble.
Without meeting his friend's eyes, he replied:
"Bah, I have to go to class with you." He tried to keep his tone of voice as normal as possible, even a little cocky. He added, to avoid further questions, "I'm done with more detention with McGonagall, I'll have to go to her class for a while, even if it's a waste of time... And we can go this way, it's okay if they see us," he added, pretending it was a ridiculous concern.
Nott gave a faint, grateful smile that his friend didn't see, and then suggested, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice:
"We can go fast ahead. There are many people and they are entertained, they will not see us."
Draco just pursed his lips, accepting his option without giving it much thought. They walked with discreet steps, dodging people in the corridor, and looking ahead, trying not to make eye contact. When they were still a few feet away, Draco clearly heard Zabini's deep voice, not bothering to lower it, saying, as if speaking to the entire hallway:
"Warrington, you're just pathetic. Turpin made it very clear to you that she couldn't stand the sight of you..."
"The sight he lost because of the paint she threw at him," Bletchley sneered, laughing at his own quip.
"It wasn't paint, you idiot!" Warrington snapped defensively. "It was ink," he added, his voice lower and listless. Bletchley suffered another fit of laughter.
"You're a pain in the arse, mate," added Zabini, his arms folded, looking at him with an air of superiority, almost like a disappointed father.
"I simply sat next to her in the Library!"
"No. You sat next to her and picked her up to sit her on top of you," Zabini retorted, arching a dark eyebrow. "And she threw the ink on you."
Draco and Nott passed by at that moment, and the young blond watched out of the corner of his eye as Warrington pursed his lips in embarrassment.
"I was only trying to play a joke on her... She's a sourpuss. I'll pass on her, I'll find someone else."
"Boy, if you want to get your face smashed in, try flirting with Brocklehurst…" Bletchley suggested, amused. "What a nerve she has..."
"Who is that?" Warrington wanted to know, apparently looking interested.
"The one from Ravenclaw. It's from your year, Zabini. Amanda, or something like that..."
"But that's a half-blood," Blaise protested, in open disbelief. Bletchley seemed very surprised by that revelation.
"Really? Don't fuck with me..."
Warrington gave Bletchley a look of utter contempt and disbelief, as if he had just seriously offended his mother. He seemed to be outraged.
"Mate, did you mean to set me up with a half-blood?" he spat, angrily. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
"I did not know! Don't look at me like that… Fuck, what would you prefer? A Mudblood? Don't complain so much…" Bletchley growled in annoyance, seemingly ashamed that he'd messed up with Amanda Brocklehurst's blood status.
"Granger herself would be a good choice!" snapped Zabini, with an open sneer. "That madwoman would break more than just your face!"
Warrington looked at him as if he were deranged.
"What Granger? Potter's? The Prefect? Yeah, man, but what did I ever do to you?" he protested, openly offended. "I'm not that fucking sick. Please, it's not just that she's a Mudblood… Have you seen her hair? It look like she plucked it off her cat's tail and put it on her head!" Bletchley laughed loudly again at such a comparison. Warrington, encouraged, continued viciously, "Merlin, you've got to have a stomach for flirting with that one, even for degenerates Muggle-lovers... Can you imagine kissing her?" The others chorused a strangled sound of disgust. "With those rat teeth of hers... Besides, as snooty as she is, I'm sure she'd even criticise the kiss," he laughed at his own joke, and added with a scornful derision, "Only a sick man would snog that half-human..."
"Gang of bastards," Nott muttered aloud, unable to contain himself. Despite walking away from them, he could still clearly hear their conversation. And it was making him sick.
He turned his face, seeking Draco's profile, trying to exchange a glance with him; perhaps believing that even his intolerant friend would find those words too strong. But he found himself staring at the stone wall of the corridor. He blinked for a moment, as he managed to take in what he was seeing. Then he stopped abruptly when he realised that his friend was no longer walking by his side.
"Draco?" he called, dazed, looking both ways, "Dra — ?" He spun around, and then he did see a blond nape. Moving away. A nape that was retracing its steps, and striding towards the Slytherins. "Draco!"
"No, really, I mean it, Granger is uglier than my owl, ha ha!" Warrington continued, emboldened by the loud laughter of the others. Suddenly he saw Draco approaching them, over Zabini's shoulder, and smiled broadly. "Come on, Malfoy! Mate, Zabini says he passes on that McGonagall class you guys got now. Are you coming to — ? HEY!"
Warrington was unable to finish his sentence, as Draco grabbed him by the front of his robe with both hands and slammed him violently against the wall behind him. Zabini, Bletchley and Nott were all stunned, watching the gesture almost in slow motion. Warrington's scream, and the suddenness of the gesture of throwing him against the wall, attracted the attention of several of the Hufflepuff girls nearby, who let out poorly timed screams of surprise. Which turned into high-pitched squeals as Draco drew back his fist, and then slammed it into his friend's face, so hard that Warrington lost his balance and ended up on his side on the floor.
"DRACO!" Nott shouted again, finally reacting to such a gesture. He rushed over to his friend, who had immediately straddled a dumbfounded Warrington and begun to beat him relentlessly with his bare fists, with a murderous glint in his grey eyes, and his face unhinged with rage.
"Professor! Professor!" yelled some of the girls, walking away down the corridor, and round the corner, while others continued to watch the fight with similar expressions of dismay. A few boys, and another group of girls, turned to watch the fight, astonished and shocked. No one made any move to intervene.
Warrington, after recovering from the surprise, had also chosen to hit the blond with all his might. But the truth was that, although Warrington was taller and much stronger, he could barely defend himself and attack Draco at the same time, who was leaner and more agile and was hitting him with real viciousness, with hardly any rest between punches.
He managed to slip his hands between Draco's fists and push his chest hard, trying to push him off him. Draco was slightly off balance, falling backwards, and Warrington took the opportunity to push him back onto the floor, both of their legs and robes entangled. But Draco barely allowed him to get on top of him as when he lifted one of his knees, straight to his opponent's crotch, and pushed him to the side. Warrington, screaming in rage, had to give in, and Draco got back on top, but was soon knocked sideways by Warrington's punch.
"Impedimenta!" Nott shouted, drawing his wand and aiming it at both boys. The spell worked, and both were suddenly separated by an invisible force that came from a point between the two boys, and they were knocked a metre apart. But it was to no avail; just as Warrington lay on his back for a second, catching his breath, Draco got up the instant the spell lost its effectiveness. Nott threw himself on top of him in an attempt to restrain him, wrapping his arms around his chest, but Draco shoved off his scrawny friend with a sharp thrust and lunged headlong again to punch an unsuspecting Warrington square in the face.
Nott, sprawled on the ground in the position he had landed in, let out a loud groan of utter despair. He turned to Zabini and Bletchley, who were frozen in place, watching the two Slytherins roll frantically across the floor, still punching each other.
"DON'T JUST STARE THERE, YOU USELESS! DO SOMETHING!" Nott yelled at them. But his companions seemed unable to intervene out of sheer bewilderment. They didn't even look at him, unable to look away from a normally impassive and haughty Draco Malfoy, who now looked completely alienated by something beyond their ken. "Oh, bloody hell," Nott spluttered in frustration, pointing his wand at them again. "Petrificus Totalus!"
"Professor McGonagall!" exclaimed several of the students in the crowd with relief, as the professor appeared down the corridor, followed by the Hufflepuff girls. The witch strode forward with a determined stride, her eyes wild with anger.
"Well, I think I deserved a better grade," Ron complained, as he, Harry and Hermione went up the Marble Staircase, heading to the third floor, to go to Charms class. "Let's see, yes, I know, I copied the definition of the Freezing Spell wrong from the book Confronting the Faceless… But giving me a 'D' seems excessive, don't you think?"
Harry, who had been listening to Ron's justifications for several minutes now, just smiled lazily and shrugged.
"Since when is Snape fair to us?" Harry put in resignedly, arching an eyebrow. "Also, what are you complaining about? He gave me a 'T'..."
"Yeah," Ron admitted ruefully. "You deserved more, mate." He turned then the other way, to look at Hermione. "I already know what you got, don't even tell me. But seriously, don't you think we deserved more, Hermione? You read our essays..."
The young woman, with an unusually lost look, blinked slightly when she heard that she was mentioned.
"Hmm?" she murmured reluctantly, and without taking her eyes off the front, still deep in thought. "What? Ah, yes, it can be fun..."
Ron's face twisted into a grimace of amused bewilderment. He raised both eyebrows and exchanged a quick glance with an equally confused Harry. He returned the same puzzled look, shrugging helplessly.
"What?" Ron managed to articulate, confused by his friend's curious response. Hermione didn't answer, and continued to stare ahead as they walked, her face serene and her gaze empty of emotion. Ron hold back a slightly mischievous smile and added to the clueless girl, "Oh, so you're fine with having a party in the Common Room this Saturday then, huh?"
"Sure…" Hermione muttered automatically, paying him no attention.
"And you'll do our homework for us so we can stay late?" Ron wanted to make sure, seriously.
"Yes…"
"And then you'll go see Snape in his office and you'll convince him to give us a striptease?" he added with more emphasis, raising both eyebrows, creasing his freckled forehead.
"Of course —"
"Hermione!" Ron finally yelled at her, letting out a laugh, considering the matter to be too murky already. Harry also let out the laugh he had been holding back.
The girl gave a start and stopped her steps in surprise, also making her friends stop. They were on the second-floor landing, which extended to their right into a long corridor. She looked up at her tall, gangly friend, focusing on him with difficulty, finally abandoning her thoughts.
"What? Why are you shouting at me?" the offended girl frowned in annoyance.
"Because you just offered to watch a striptease of Snape!" Ron exclaimed, grinning in disbelief. Harry, next to him, was crying with laughter, wiping his eyes under his glasses.
The girl was speechless for a moment, perplexed, and the next second blood rushed to her face.
"I beg your pardon?!" she spat in furious disbelief, in a tone that threatened danger.
"I only told you that to see if you'd react… Woman, you had your head in the clouds," Ron apologised, now looking at her uneasily and dropping his smile. "It was just a joke. What's wrong with you?"
Hermione looked away, trying not to let her embarrassment show on her face. Oh, dear. She had tried so hard not to let it show, but she couldn't control her absent-mindedness that day. She had too much to think about.
Too fresh the feel of Malfoy's lips on hers, in the dark corridor of the old copies of the Daily Prophet, the previous afternoon...
"Nothing, nothing," she assured him hastily, tucking a frizzy lock of hair behind her ear. "Forgive me. I have been rude. I was just thinking about..."
But, looking back at her friends, she realised that only Ron was listening seriously. Harry was looking to the right, down the second-floor corridor, his expression puzzled, almost worried.
Sensing that Hermione had fallen silent, and realising that it was because of him, Harry looked back at her with regret.
"Wait… Sorry to cut you off, Hermione, but what's going on in there?" Harry excused himself, pointing to the corridor, where there seemed to be quite a bit of a commotion. There were many students gathered in the centre of the corridor, forming a large group, staring at something in the adjoining corridor that escaped their eyes. Angry voices were also heard. They even seemed to see the glow of spells on the walls of the perpendicular corridor.
"I don't know…" Hermione muttered, equally uneasy, as they slowly, cautiously moved closer to get a better look.
"I think this is a good time to honour our rank as Prefects," Ron said with mock satisfaction, trying to take some of the seriousness out of the matter.
"Well, I wouldn't say no," Hermione corroborated, her chin slightly raised and her expression confident.
At that moment, the crowd that had gathered there was forced to move aside, and three people emerged from it. One of them was a Professor McGonagall, as angry as they could rarely remember seeing her, dragging Draco Malfoy and Cassius Warrington on either side of her by the arm. The latter, especially, presented a very bad appearance; he was limping, his robes were completely crumpled, and his face was streaked with fresh bruises and blood trickling down his chin. Malfoy didn't look so badly bruised, though he didn't look his usual neat self either; he was very dishevelled, with his tie hanging precariously loose from his neck, and a slightly bruised cheekbone. But the most surprising thing about him was that he looked as angry as McGonagall.
Hermione felt her soul slide to the soles of her feet.
"But what…?" Harry mumbled, standing beside her, narrowing his eyes in bewilderment.
"Shameful! A despicable exhibition of Muggle dueling...!" the teacher shouted as she tugged at them, rushing past Harry, Ron, and Hermione. The girl was unable to contain herself and glared at Malfoy, taking advantage of the fact that the confusion of the moment would not allow such a gesture to look suspicious. Harry and Ron were also looking at the strange group in open astonishment. Hermione searched for his grey gaze vehemently, but he avoided it completely. He was staring straight ahead with a face taut with anger, like a mask, struggling feebly with her Transfiguration teacher's grip. Warrington was just limping, trying to keep up with the hurried pace of the flustered teacher.
"This is outrageous...!" Professor McGonagall continued to yell. "Please, stay where you are, Mr. Nott!"
Theodore Nott, who was following the professor with a concerned air, possibly to check on Malfoy, stopped resignedly in the middle of the hall, alongside Harry and his friends. The boy suddenly fixed his eyes on Hermione, almost startling her. The crowd that was in the corridor, and that had moved towards the walls to let the teacher and the two students pass, soon scattered all over again, commenting on what had happened. Nott continued to stare at Hermione, without moving, as if wanting to tell her something with just his eyes, while the students surrounded him. He shook his head almost imperceptibly, in the direction McGonagall was walking away. Immediately after, the boy turned around and was lost in the crowd of people. Hermione was stunned and, at the same time, felt fear wash over her. What had happened?
Harry and Ron, who were still watching their teacher walk away, didn't notice Nott's gesture.
"Merlin's pants! What do you think happened?" Ron was surprised, his eyes wide. "By the look of them, they've had a hell of a fight... And, of course, without a wand."
"I'd say it was Malfoy who hit Warrington, right?" Harry said uneasily. "He was such a mess..."
"I'm telling you, I didn't know Malfoy was such a beast, but he's a coward! What could have happened to make him stand up to his mate like that?" Ron wondered aloud. "They've always got on well so far... Hermione and I have seen them doing mischief a few times, when we've been on Prefect rounds."
"Yes, you told me… What's wrong?" Harry questioned suddenly, hearing a sudden gasp of surprise from the girl.
"I just remembered that Padma has my Charms book," the girl lied, trying to compose a rueful expression. But without being able to look his friend in the eye as she did so. "I'm… I'm going to look for her."
"B-but the bell is about to ring!" Ron warned her incredulously, pointing a finger at the ceiling as her friend started walking, following in McGonagall's footsteps.
"Don't worry! I'll catch up with you! Excuse me to Professor Flitwick if I'm late!" she begged, looking over her shoulder at them, still walking.
As she walked down the hall, her steps increasing in speed, she felt anxiety take over her chest and her responsible mind. There was no way she was going to make it to class on time. It was clear to her, despite the fact that her mind desperately tried to find a solution. But her heart seemed to have made the decision for her. And she was going after Malfoy.
As she rounded the corner of the corridor, she caught sight of the teacher and her two companions in the distance. She followed them, keeping an eye on them, until she saw McGonagall lead them into her office, and slam the door shut.
Hermione dropped her bag on the floor and sat on the edge of an armour pedestal, several metres away from the door. She took a deep breath to calm herself, closed her eyes, and covered her face with her hands. She wasn't even sure what she was doing there. But Nott's gaze had disturbed her too much. And she was sure that he had told her to go there. It was as if he wanted her to understand that he had something to tell her... Was that possible? Or was she hallucinating? It was crazy. But she needed to check it out, she couldn't remain in doubt...
"I think it was because of you," a soft voice said.
Hermione jumped, startled. She looked up to see Nott standing in front of her, staring at her. Apparently, he had taken a different path than the girl to get there, but, just as his look had promised, there he was.
The girl did not manage to assimilate his words.
"What?" was the only thing she managed to say, almost automatically, getting to her feet.
"Warrington was making fun of you, and Draco beat him up," Nott said cautiously, slipping his hands into the pockets of his robes. His face was serene, slightly suspicious, scrutinising her with his light eyes. "That's what happened. Don't ask me to explain it to you, but that's how it was."
Hermione stood still. She could think of absolutely nothing to say. That couldn't be true... It was too absurd. No matter whatever way she looked at it, it didn't make the slightest bit of sense.
She blinked and forced her brain to form some sort of sentence, as the young Slytherin kept looking at her, patient. Waiting for an answer. As if she was capable of responding to such a statement.
"That can't…" the young woman began, almost in a stunned stammer. But the bell rang at that instant, interrupting her. Her heart stopped. She definitely wouldn't make it to class on time.
"What class do you have now?" Nott asked hesitantly, as if he had read her mind. The girl sensed that her face had reflected the fear she had felt inside.
"Charms," she answered, her voice cracking, looking at her heavy bag, which she had set down next to the armour pedestal.
"And you're not going?"
Hermione took a breath and turned her face to look at the closed door of the Head of Gryffindor House's office. She felt oddly determined. Determined to do something stupid that might not get anywhere. And she didn't know how to feel about it.
"No," Hermione muttered through a lump in her throat, still looking at the door. She swallowed, her chest shaking. It was the first time in her life that she had deliberately missed a class. "I'm staying. But what you say doesn't make any sense…" She looked at the boy again suddenly, his brown hair swaying around her at the sudden movement. "Malfoy… fighting Warrington over that? Over me? It's... it's absurd. He can't… Why would he?"
"I know," he said, vehemently. "But it has happened that way. You know I wouldn't lie to you about such a thing."
"You must have misunderstood everything," the girl insisted, raising both eyebrows, looking at him in haughty disbelief. Nott snorted through his long nose.
"It's hard to misunderstand something like that."
Hermione looked away again, upset. She took a deep breath, trying to understand the scope of it all. Trying to imagine that it was true. Still unable to come up with a coherent justification, still unable to find even the remotest logic in such a thing.
"I'll talk to him," she finally murmured, feeling her heart flutter. "I'm sure it couldn't have happened that way, it's obvious, but… I have to clear this up. When he gets out —"
"I'm not going to confront him now," Nott interrupted her, with a light-hearted irony. "He'll be in a foul mood. I don't feel like putting up with him, I'll do it later. I'm off to Transfiguration, though I have a feeling McGonagall will be late in coming. I wish you luck trying to get some clarification from him."
Without another word, he started down the corridor, walking away from the girl and leaving her alone. Hermione sighed slowly, taking her time over it, and then put a hand to her chest. Her heart was still beating wildly. So many emotions in so few minutes.
It couldn't be true. Especially not after what they'd talked about last time. After she'd hit him when he'd kissed her in the Library. After she'd rejected him like that. For a change, just like everything else that was going on between them, it was completely outlandish. He couldn't be able to 'defend' her like that... Why should he? He hadn't done it when they'd cut her hair in the Ancient Runes classroom, or when they'd grabbed her bag in the Transfiguration Courtyard. He had never done it. It went against everything he was...
At that moment, the door to McGonagall's office opened and Warrington stepped out of the room. Hermione, at the last second, hurried to grab her bag and hide behind the armour on whose pedestal she had been sitting. This prevented the boy from seeing her as he limped past her, possibly in the direction of the Hospital. Disappearing around the corner.
After a few seconds, Malfoy left the office as well, slamming the door behind him. His face was shadowed as he started down the corridor towards the girl, without seeing her. He looked almost as upset as he had a few minutes ago. His tie was still loose and his hair was in disarray.
As soon as she saw him, Hermione realised that it wasn't sensible to hide from him. Not when her intention was to confront him. Forcing herself not to think too hard about it so as not to back out, she stepped out from behind the armour, revealing herself, and waited for his reaction. Malfoy, deep in thought, took a second to lock eyes with her as he noticed her movement. It took him two more seconds to recognise her, and when he did, he stopped suddenly, with a visible start. He stood still in the middle of the corridor, staring at her in astonishment. He seemed to need a few more seconds to know how to react.
"What are you supposed to be doing here, Granger?" he finally muttered, furrowing his eyebrows. He seemed to regain his usual composure and haughtiness, once he got over his initial surprise. "Did someone hired you to spy on me? How much is he paying you? Because I'll double the price to get rid of you..."
Hermione ignored his comment. It seemed too absurd and predictable. It was what he had to tell her, as a rule. She moved forward and stood in front of him. He eyed her warily, and with some impossible-to-hide anger. After a few seconds of examining his stormy eyes, his rigid posture, and the bruise on his cheekbone, she let out a defeated sigh, free of anger, which seemed to disconcert the boy.
"Have you gone mad?" she muttered, frustrated.
Malfoy blinked, still puzzled, but his frown softened. He had no chance to answer, though, or even make a move. They heard muffled footsteps, heels against the hard floor, making them both tense and turn their heads. Hermione, without thinking, reflexively grabbed his wrist and yanked him back, forcing him to hide behind the armour with her. He didn't resist, in a silent agreement with her in which they both agreed that, under no circumstances, they should see them together.
The door to McGonagall's office opened, and the professor stepped out, most likely intending to address her class. She was still visibly fuming, which was reflected in her pointed hat, more tilted than usual. She didn't see the boys as she walked past them, her long-toed shoes echoing in the silence of the corridor. The light from the outside filtering through the windows glinted off her square glasses, making her expression even more severe.
Hermione realised, a second later, that perhaps hiding with Malfoy in the narrow space between the armour and the wall hadn't been such a good idea. There was barely room for one person, let alone two. She found herself squeezed between the solid chest of a tall Malfoy and the cold wall behind her back. It reminded her dangerously, although it was not the appropriate moment for it, of a similar situation, in the dungeons...
Without quite knowing why, her face was turned stubbornly straight ahead, towards the Slytherin's robes, but her eyes were raised, staring into his. Malfoy's face was lowered, and he was glaring at her with his steely gaze, less than an inch away, but his expression was impassive. She was feeling his breathing against her forehead. She was perceiving the smell of his skin. From that position, Hermione got a better look at his bruised cheekbone and some scratches on his forehead. He had placed his forearm on the wall behind her, on one side of her face, as a support so that he could keep his balance in the confined space. Their torsos were pressed close together, each feeling the other's chest swell with their breathing. Taking in as deep a breath as the confined space would allow. The extreme closeness was unsettling. They had never been so close, for so many seconds. And even less without... kissing. And it was a shocking feeling, almost mutual of trust. As if both, without speaking, were certain that the other was thinking the same thing, but knowing that neither of them would take the step. Because it was not the right moment. Because the risk was too high. The closeness was completely justified at the moment, but that didn't make it any more bearable.
McGonagall's footsteps could be heard clearly on the other side of the armour, and Draco suddenly found the situation inappropriately exciting. The possibility of being caught behind that armour, so close, so close together… It was such a stressful resolution, so disastrous if it came to pass… It was such a fucking forbidden situation that it filled him with adrenaline. And having Granger's face so close, and her bright, dark eyes locked on his, only further complicated the jumble of nerves that the boy had inside him, creating knots and more knots at the pit of his stomach. He couldn't stop looking at her. And he couldn't move.
Granger's lips suddenly parted, still looking at him, and the boy's knot twisted at the gesture. Was she going to…?
"She's gone," the young woman's lips whispered, barely moving. In a tone of voice so low that the boy would not have heard her but for the tremendous proximity.
"Who?" was the only thing his lips uttered, still staring at her lips. There was an uncomfortable ringing in his ears, or perhaps it was in his brain.
"McGonagall," Hermione spat, still in a weak but definitely annoyed voice. Draco gasped as he assimilate her words. He removed his arm from the wall and straightened up, dazed, realising then that he had been leaning toward the girl the whole time when he could have been upright.
Malfoy took a step to the side to struggle out from behind the armour and away from Granger at the same time. Seeking to separate himself from her like someone seeking oxygen. She moved away from the armour and away from the wall as well. Now that they had regained a safe distance between them, Draco felt himself regaining all his faculties. And air. He stood straight and stared at her, scrutinising her.
"What are you doing here?" he repeated, firmly, trying to downplay what had just happened. Trying to focus their attention on what really mattered.
The girl pursed her lips and tried to catch the breath she had been holding behind the armour. Her pulse pounded at her fingertips. And it was hard to breathe.
"I want to talk to you," Hermione said, her voice soft but clear. Draco closed his eyes, and his expression was one of open agony, as if someone had just jabbed a wand into a particularly painful place. Showing himself absolutely sick of her. "No one will hear us in here, you have no excuse —"
"Granger, no. I don't need an excuse. I can't stand you right now. I'm not going to put up with this," he snapped, starting to walk and trying to get past her. But she stepped in front of him, boldly blocking his path.
"I want to talk to you," she insisted, angrily. "It will only take a moment. I need to —"
"You need to get out of here," he spat at her, bringing his face closer to hers so he could pierce her with his words. Then he turned without moving from the spot and started walking in the opposite direction. "You need to mind your own business and leave me alone. Try it, you'll love it."
"Malfoy, what on earth just happened with Warrington?" she questioned reproachfully, walking after him, not allowing him to escape her rebuke. "Why have you quarrelled with him? What happened to you?"
Malfoy clicked his tongue loudly and closed his eyes for a moment, still walking, even though she couldn't see him. Exhausted, he wondered if this would be his punishment for what he had done. Telling himself that he probably deserved to have to put up with her at that moment, like a cruel joke of fate. Reminding him of what had just happened. But questioning in frustration if he really didn't deserve a fucking break in his life. And, also, if he could really stoop any lower.
"I should have figured you just wanted to lecture me," he spat without pausing. And Granger's agitated footsteps behind him failed to quell the anger that still simmered inside him. "None of your business, you freaking busybody…"
"Maybe it is my business. I was told that it was because he was making fun of me, is that true?" Hermione blurted out, unable to contain herself. Her heart was racing again. She wondered if she was going to end up with some sort of heart problem from all the jolts her poor heart was suffering.
Draco stopped in his tracks. He felt the blood pounding in his ears. How was that possible? How could she know...?
He heard Hermione slow down behind him. He half turned, barely tilting his body to look at her. The young woman was panting slightly from the accelerated pace. And then he realised that he himself was panting as well.
Trying to feign a haughtiness he didn't feel, Draco locked eyes on hers. He hesitated and pondered his words before speaking, but was careful not to let his face express any emotion other than indifference.
"Who told you that?" he asked, in a dry whisper.
"It doesn't matter, does it?" she questioned again. Suddenly she felt rather foolish. Malfoy's face was now contemptuous, and almost mocking. Was it all as improbable as it really seemed?
"Granger, sometimes you manage to make me laugh, lo and behold," Draco mocked, chuckling, straightening up slightly. His eyes suddenly caught, amidst the loneliness of the corridor, one of the stone benches that decorated it, close to them. Temptation seized him. He felt really tired. Unable to stand, with the weight of his actions on his shoulders. Even though he did not want to be there in the company of the young woman, he could not help himself. Letting out a biting chuckle, he walked nonchalantly to the smooth rock surface. He plopped down on the bench, holding back a gasp of relief. He tried to look disinterested in her, to pretend that her words didn't upset him in the slightest. Pretend he had nothing to hide, nothing to run away from. Nothing further from the truth. "Well, it's obviously not true," he scoffed, arching an eyebrow. "But even it amuses me to have to clarify it for you. What do I care if he was making fun of you? I don't even know what they were talking about... I just hit him because I felt like it," he finished abruptly.
Hermione snorted and shook her head. She stood there in front of him, glaring sternly at him with one hand on her hip. Not saying anything about him sitting on the bench.
"Because you feel like it?" she repeated, wryly. "For God's sake, Malfoy, what a ridiculous excuse."
"Hey, smart-arse, it's my mood, not yours: if I want to get angry, I get angry, full stop," he replied, irritated.
Deep down, it annoyed him that he had indeed been so unimaginative in making up an excuse. But he could think of nothing better: he was still trying to digest how he had felt when he heard Warrington's malicious words. He did not understand how such blind and uncontrollable rage could have invaded him. Nothing like this had ever happened to him before. He had never lost his temper in such a way. And, worst of all, whenever something happened to him that he couldn't understand or control, Granger was almost always involved. But no, she was wrong. He hadn't hit his friend for making fun of her; he obviously didn't care about that. Warrington had messed with him, with Draco. He had said that anyone who kissed Granger was sick, and he was not going to allow that. He wasn't going to let that stupid bouncer insult him like that. He had enough internal suffering from having kissed that stupid Mudblood without Warrington coming along and reminding him how sick he had to be to have done it... He hadn't been able to take it, and he'd decided to take out all his frustration on his colleague's unattractive face.
He closed his eyes. What was wrong with him? How had he been able to kiss her, several times? Why was he unable to restrain himself when he was near her, even though he knew that afterwards he would be filled with shame and rage for not having been able to avoid it? Why did he do it if he knew he would regret it afterwards?
He shouldn't have hit Warrington. It had not been a sufficient motive. His partner had been right about everything. He recalled the insults his friend had hurled at the young woman now before him, about her teeth, about her hair, about her kisses... and he felt his throat burn with pent-up rage. He was not right. He was not right at all. And he felt so furious about that fact.
Oh shit.
He forced himself to swallow. He was exhausted from the fight, that was all. His body was not reacting as it would under normal conditions. He wasn't thinking clearly. The heat on his face wasn't justified.
Feeling a sudden stabbing pain seize his shoulder, he forced himself to move it gently, trying to relax it. Now that the adrenaline had subsided, he felt his whole body ache from the stupid Warrington's blows. Especially his cheek. He hadn't seen himself, but he hoped he didn't look too bad. Though he notice then that his hair was dishevelled on top of his head; he could feel it. And that his robe wasn't quite right; he could feel the fabric wrinkling in several places. He raised a hand and ran it through his hair, trying to comb it with as much dignity as he could muster. Trying to ignore Granger's still exasperated look. He had to contain his sudden anger that she was seeing him looking like that.
"You're impossible," Granger suddenly complained, impatient, snapping him out of his thoughts.
"If I had a Galleon every time you said that to me, I'd be a lot richer by now than I already am," Malfoy grumbled, raising an eyebrow, brushing back his hair and folding his arms.
"And if they gave it to me every time you did or said something stupid I'd surpass you in fortune," Hermione replied, stifling the umpteenth snort. Then, and against all odds, she plopped down next to him, with a heavy sigh.
Draco could hardly conceive of her doing such a thing. But he told himself, once again, that it was his fault. That he deserved it for being an idiot. For still standing there.
A little voice in his head told him it was the perfect time to get up and get the hell out of there. He had no business there, no reason to put up with her. He didn't have to put up with her presence.
But exhaustion was winning the battle, and now that the adrenaline had completely left his body, he felt weak and listless. Lacking strength.
"I highly doubt it," he mumbled, just to still justify his presence there. He looked up at the ceiling, trying to ignore the young woman. That she had sat next to him. It annoyed him that she had sat so close. Although the girl was actually sitting at the other end of the bench, it seemed to Draco that she was too close to him. His arms were so tightly crossed, resting on his thighs, that they began to cramp, but he refused to uncross them.
"You're irresponsible," Hermione accused him suddenly, as if she'd just thought of it. "You could have really hurt him. You've made a mess of him," Malfoy muttered a weak 'pfft' that was laden with disdain, even a little cocky. "I don't like violence."
"Bah, it was no big deal, I just punched him a couple of times," he muttered, contemptuous and almost proud of himself. "If I'd wanted to hurt him, I would have," he added, still haughtily, unable to contain himself. But he cursed himself the next second. Realising, almost with alarm, that he was trying to impress her. Granger. But she didn't look, not even close, like that.
"If you say so... You're lucky he didn't know how to defend himself, otherwise you'd be in the Hospital Wing by now too," Hermione reproached him, her voice rising, furious with him. She was sick of Malfoy being so carefree and never stopping to think about the consequences of his actions. He snorted sardonically.
"Yeah, right. And what the hell do you care what they do to me?" he spat fiercely. Turning his face to stare at her in disbelief, forgetting to ignore her. She, on the other hand, for the first time, looked away.
"I care when it's because of me," Hermione murmured, with slight irony, staring straight ahead with a distracted look on her face. Malfoy snorted again, this time without derision.
"Yeah, well, don't get used to it," he replied without thinking, rubbing the bridge of his nose with two fingers, heavily. Almost desperate. Deeply exhausted.
Hermione turned to face him instantly, a gleam of victory in her eyes.
"So it really had something to do with me?" she wanted to know, her voice satisfied, even a little amused. She had tried to make him confess casually, taking advantage of his tiredness, but she hadn't expected it to work. That didn't stop her from still feeling incredulous, though. Malfoy had the same feeling as if he had choked. He didn't know if it was his heart or his lungs, but suddenly something had frozen in his chest.
Fucking know-it-all.
Shit, shit, shit...
"I would never do anything for you, Granger. Never. Just fucking face it," Draco replied, doing his best to emphasise the words so that she would believe them. And maybe himself too. He looked upset again. "Doesn't the way I've treated you all these years give you a clue that I can't stand you? Do you think — ?"
"Okay, fine, you win. Forget it, or you'll have a fit," she interrupted him, dryly, but with a slight vibration in her voice. They both fell silent. Draco was extremely annoyed to see a slight tremble lift the corners of her mouth. Hermione suddenly found it strange that Malfoy didn't just get up and leave. But no. He was still there. Sitting next to her.
Hermione, emboldened by the fact that he wasn't leaving, and to break the silence that had formed, tried to change the conversation slightly.
"What punishment has Professor McGonagall given you?"
"Grounded every afternoon for a week, and I start this afternoon," Malfoy said, rolling his eyes. Inwardly he was so relieved at the change of subject that he almost shouted 'thank you' as he looked up at the sky. He hadn't realised how much he was sweating until that moment. "I should be given a prize... I'm getting out of one punishment and into another," he chuckled, though he felt exhausted just thinking about it.
"That doesn't deserve an award," she spat, angrily. "You're irresponsible and a brute. And you're supposed to be a Prefect, you should be setting an example for the younger students."
"And I am an example. I'm the example that McGonagall's punishments are disproportionate," he cackled grumpily. "A week's punishment for a stupid fight, now I've seen everything..."
"Of course it's not disproportionate!" Hermione snapped, indignant. "Serves you right!"
"Are you kidding? Not that I'd killed anyone!" he protested, bewildered and offended.
"You're not being objective; she's been entirely fair. You can't expect to get away with a fight like that."
"You weren't even there, don't talk about what you don't know."
Hermione looked away again, annoyed, ending the discussion. Swallowing an angry retort, realising that they never seemed to stop arguing. Her gaze fell on the armour they had been hiding behind minutes before. They fell silent again. He still didn't leave.
"Your tie is loose," she managed to say in a whisper, suddenly feeling nervous. Upset at the sudden realisation of how comfortable she had felt during this time with him. Angry at what had happened, annoyed with him, but relaxed at his company.
Draco pursed his lips, looking similar to how Hermione felt inside. Utterly miserable. The boy removed his tie with a listless gesture and tossed it to the floor in one impatient motion. No longer trying to look neat, realising he wouldn't succeed. And looking frustrated yet resigned to it. Hermione looked down at her hands, clasped in her lap.
"What's going on, Malfoy?" Hermione asked in a whisper, not looking at him. Realising, after saying it, that she herself didn't know exactly what she meant. But apparently he did understand her. She heard him snort, without sounding sarcastic.
"You say that as if I know," he replied, and there was so much bitterness and so much sincerity in his voice that Hermione turned her face slowly to look at him. He, too, tilted his face to meet her eyes. She didn't look away. Draco was getting used to losing himself in those eyes. He was getting used to appreciating the subtleties of Granger's gaze. He was getting used to her looks without hatred. He was getting used to her.
Draco kept looking into her eyes, but soon he stopped seeing them. His mind was far away, thinking about things he shouldn't even been thinking about...
'What if I were a pure-blood?'
Damn it.
Well, he probably wouldn't even consider resisting. And he'd be fucking clear on why he felt the way he did.
Shit.
They were alone once more. There were no witnesses. Nothing that could happen there would come out of there.
Refocusing his gaze on her dark eyes, barely breaking eye contact, the boy rested his hands on the bench for momentum and he crawled to the side to sit closer to her. Granger made not the slightest movement at that gesture, no move to move away. She didn't even look away. And that decision not to move away from him was all it took for the boy to make up his mind. Fuck regret. Fuck it all.
He stretched out one of his hands to rest it open-palmed on the bench behind Granger's back, so he could support his weight as he leaned into her. He closed his eyes just as his lips pressed against hers, soft, warm, moist... human. He felt her shaky intake of breath through her nose, and the tightening of her body on the bench. He moved his lips slowly over hers, tasting her, groping her. His lips caught her lower one, in an outburst, and she shuddered. And suddenly she was kissing him back, catching his lips, slowly reciprocating. The wet sound of their mouths meeting was the only thing that broke the silence in the corridor. Draco felt, without opening his eyes, as if her body was moving, and suddenly something soft brushed his cheek. He startled, but did not open his eyes. Granger had raised her hand and was caressing his cheek with her fingertips. Her fingers were cold. It was too subtle, too delicate a touch. A caress that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Her fingers brushed his bruised cheekbone, his irritated skin, making him wince with pain, but even then he didn't want her to stop.
"Tell her not to touch you," the stern voice in his mind told him still, revealing that there was still a trace of sanity left inside him. "Tell her she's not allowed to touch you. Push her away. She is a Mudblood, she has no right to touch you... Nor do you have the right to kiss her. Back off".
Draco felt a twinge inside at the words of his conscience, but he didn't have time to act on them. Her fingers pressed harder against his cheek, and before he knew it, she had forced his lips from hers. As soon as they lost contact, Granger turned her face forward and leapt to her feet. She grabbed her bag and strode down the corridor, walking calmly and silently away from him. Draco hadn't even had a chance to see the look on her face. He watched her walk away, unable to move, wishing with all his might to know the execution of the Obliviate spell, so that he could apply it to himself. He needed to forget, to get rid of the bitter liquid that was invading his veins and eating away at his insides. So he could get rid of the terrible feeling of remorse.
He was fed up. Sick of being ashamed, of always screwing up. Sick of not being able to hold back, of always giving in to whatever it was that she provoked him. Sick of trying to resist, without succeeding.
'What if I were a pure-blood?'
"But you're not," he answered her in his head. "It doesn't matter what would happen, because you're not. And that can't be changed."
He would not make such a mistake again, he told himself, in a fit of anger. Enough was enough, even Granger knew. She had just proved that she possessed more sanity than he did. She had just rejected him outright, without making a fuss. With her characteristic firmness and pride. And, worst of all, Draco didn't feel rejected. It would be stupid of him to feel that way. But he did feel humiliated, because the girl had shown more coherence than he had. She had been able to stand back. Just like in the Library, before she'd slapped him across the face. But this time it had been different. More... thoughtful.
Granger's sanity-laden rejection had filled him with a new lucidity.
This had to be stopped, whatever it was, before something happened that they might regret. And he swore to himself, word of a Malfoy, that this was the last time he would let himself be carried away by what Granger produced to him. The last time.
Neither Draco, who sat on that bench for a long time, nor Hermione, who was out of sight around the corner in a few seconds, noticed two people who hadn't been to class either and were watching them, hidden in the shadows.