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As always, thank you all so much for your support 😍. I really hope you will continue to like the story a lot. People don't usually read work in progress so I thank you twice as much for being there and letting me know 💖. And, of course, thanks in general to everyone who's reading, whether or not you leave a comment, really 😊
Thank you so much in advance for reading! As usual, I'd love to read in the comments what you thought of it 😍
And, without further ado, the Easter holidays begin...
CHAPTER 27
The double doors of the Great Hall
The Hogwarts Entrance Hall was a hive of excited voices and the sounds of trunks being dragged, accompanied by the hooting of hundreds of owls, the meowing of cats, and the croaking of toads. It was crowded with students dressed in casual clothes, searching the crowd for their friends to say goodbye to them. Over Easter, the vast majority would be returning home. Some would be staying at Hogwarts for the holidays, but even they were milling around the Entrance Hall looking for their classmates to wish them a happy week. Professor McGonagall stood at the top of the Marble Staircase, calling for discipline, as students surrounded her, streaming down the stairs. Professor Slughorn stood in a corner, chatting animatedly with a group of students, unconcerned with keeping the place in order. A grumpy Filch stood by the double exit doors, broom in hand, seemingly determined to clear the place as soon as everyone had left.
Ron Weasley was having particular trouble with the crowd. Luna had been chasing him for quite some time, armed with some sort of magic spray bottle filled with a purple liquid, which she tried to spray around the red-headed boy despite his adamant refusal. According to the young Ravenclaw, Ron was surrounded by invisible Bundimuns, and she intended to chase them away with the spray bottle. The mysterious violet liquid smelled like wet Niffler. Ron was almost forced to run through the Entrance Hall, dodging the hundreds of students around him, trying to get away from the young blonde. He was waving his hands rather comically to ward off the smell of the potion as the girl managed to spray all around him.
Harry merely followed their zig-zagging trajectory down the Entrance Hall beside Hermione, both of them waiting patiently for Luna to finish her insistent task. Hermione was dragging her own trunk, with Crookshanks' basket on top of it, and Harry, in addition to his trunk and Hedwig's cage, was also dragging his friend's luggage across the worn stone floor.
"Have a good week, Harry, and you, Hermione!" Colin Creevey wished them loudly as he passed them, followed by his brother Dennis. Harry and Hermione replied in kind, and with resigned smiles they accepted a quick photograph with the camera he wore around his neck.
"I never thought I'd say this, but I'm looking forward to spending a few days away from Hogwarts," Harry commented, glancing at Hermione once Colin had walked away. Still walking behind Ron through the crowd. "We're studying harder than ever. We've never had to stay up all night doing homework before without it being exam period. I'm beginning to think that N.E.W.T.s are really important..." he joked, looking at his friend knowingly. She gave him an irritated look.
"Are you beginning to think so?" she snapped, eliciting a giggle from him. But then she smiled, shifting the hand with which she was dragging her heavy luggage, and added, "I'd like to leave Hogwarts for a few days, too. I haven't been out of here since summer."
"Right, you couldn't leave at Christmas," Harry reminded then, frowning sympathetically. Then his smile widened, "It's about time the three of us were together at The Burrow. We missed your company at Christmas."
"Oh, thank you, Harry," she replied, giving him a beaming smile. They both abruptly changed their routes so they could follow Ron, who had changed direction with a skid, managing to dodge a spray from Luna. "I'm really looking forward to going, too. I missed you guys a lot too. Although I feel sorry for Neville, who's staying here again..."
"Bah, he'll be with Luna, they'll have fun together. He won't be bored," Harry joked, winking at his friend, who laughed. Ron, several feet away, had spotted Ginny in the crowd, and had taken cover behind her, pointing a threatening finger at Luna and saying something to his sister that they didn't hear. Harry and Hermione walked towards them, resigned.
"Hey, Captain!" greeted the Chaser Robins suddenly behind them, approaching Harry with a smile and starting to walk beside him. She had no luggage. "You and the Weasleys are the only members of the team leaving. After the holidays we'll have to train hard so we don't fall behind..."
Harry waved a hand in the air, smiling.
"Don't worry, we're up to date with practice. Besides, I'm sure the other teams will have a lot of people leaving as well..."
"Not really," the young woman replied, smiling. "From Hufflepuff, for example, it's only the Beaters who leave. From Ravenclaw, the Captain is leaving, but the rest of them are going to schedule training sessions. And from Slytherin, I've heard that only the Seeker is leaving..."
Hermione, walking on Harry's other side, suddenly paid attention to the conversation.
"Well, but Slytherin hasn't had any Beaters since Crabbe and Goyle were kicked off the team," Harry commented, shrugging his shoulders dismissively. "Don't worry, Demelza, it's only for a week. And I've thought of a couple of tactics to try on the way back. Like one where —"
The dark-haired boy continued walking and chatting with his teammate, oblivious to the fact that Hermione, on the other side of him, had stopped several paces behind. Her round eyes were fixed on nothing. Lost in the crowd. Wondering why she had suddenly become so nervous. How could he have invaded her thoughts so suddenly, just because he had been mentioned in a roundabout way by Demelza Robins...
It was not the right time. She didn't even know how to do it. But she couldn't leave without seeing him. Without even trying. They weren't going to be able to see each other for another whole week...
She blinked and focused her gaze, then turned her face to either side, deciding on her route. Gripping her luggage tighter, she walked through the crowd, scanning every face. Looking for a striking blond hair. She walked in different directions, weaving through people, looking everywhere. She squinted, struggling not to get lost in the sea of colours.
And she found him.
Draco was standing still a few feet away. Near the double doors leading to the Great Hall, standing next to Nott, who was chatting with Daphne Greengrass. Draco seemed somewhat oblivious to the conversation. He looked listless, and serenely haughty, as always. His trunk with his belongings was beside him. He was also going home, just as Demelza had said.
Hermione hesitated, not daring to take another step. But without taking her eyes off him. What now?
And suddenly Draco's grey eyes were scanning the crowd around him, with boredom. It took him several lazy glances to stumble into the presence of a static Hermione and stop his eyes abruptly. He barely made any gesture that the girl could be described as noticeable. It seemed to her that he tensed his shoulders slightly, but it may have been her imagination.
Hermione merely blinked, holding his gaze. Then she turned her face, looking around. Looking for somewhere to go. She looked at the columns in the Entrance Hall. They were wide, and they had been hidden behind one, once. But that time the place had been all but deserted, and now it was teeming with people walking back and forth. She watched the entrance to the dungeons as well — would that be appropriate, or would they risk a straggling Slytherin coming up the stairs and bumping into them? She glanced around the entrance to the basement, where the kitchens were, and also the Hufflepuff Common Room... Also the small room into which the first years entered before being selected by the Sorting Hat...
Discouraged, not knowing what to do, she returned her gaze to Draco's eyes. But he was no longer looking at her.
The young blond had turned his face towards Nott, clearly interrupting his conversation with Daphne, to say something to him. Hermione hesitated — should she too dissemble and keep walking? Was it a hint for her to just go away? But then Nott nodded his head and replied something serenely, then turned back to Daphne, resuming their conversation. The young Malfoy picked up his luggage with a calm movement and then started walking, straight towards the Great Hall, just a few feet away from where he was standing. Hermione blinked, unsure. Did he expect her to...?
One of the double doors to the Great Hall stood open, and it was through that door that Draco entered. Breakfast had been over for a long time, and there would be no one in there. In fact, there was nothing there to justify the boy going in.
Hermione swallowed, feeling nervousness wash over her. Was he mad? Wasn't it a very public place? Did he really want to take the risk...? She turned her face to look for her friends. She caught a glimpse of Harry, who had stopped near where she had left him, still chatting with Demelza. Apparently oblivious to the fact that she was no longer by his side. Or perhaps he had assumed that she had wandered off to go and talk to some acquaintance. She didn't see Ron, and assumed he was still in the company of Ginny and Luna, further away. She glanced again at the open door of the Great Hall through which Draco had disappeared. If she was quick...
Forcing herself to feel a burst of bravery, she set off at a brisk pace, pulling her luggage, straight over there.
"The trick is not to look guilty, to walk confidently, and not to look anyone in the eye," Hermione kept repeating to herself, staring straight ahead, trying to keep her most innocent face on.
She almost pushed her way through the crowd of students, praying in every way she could think of that no one would speak to her. She walked so stiffly and her face was so tense that it was definitely not natural, and, if anyone had noticed her, they would most likely have asked her if she was all right.
When she reached the huge open door of the Great Hall, running the last few feet of the Entrance Hall, she could barely suppress a sigh of relief. She wished she had been lucky and no one had noticed her. There were a lot of people, she told herself, and she didn't attract that much attention; but just in case, she would hurry.
She entered the Great Hall and hurried to stand behind the door that was kept closed, away from prying eyes. She looked up, and Malfoy's grey eyes returned a sly glare. He stood with his shoulder against the door, arms crossed, one leg crossed behind the other at the ankles. It was such a casual, self-assured pose that it instantly made the girl's heart race. He was there. He was right in front of her. It was the first time they had seen each other alone since what had happened in the greenhouse... It hadn't all been a dream.
"You're reckless," Hermione reproached him in a low voice, unable to contain herself. The voices of hundreds of students sounded anxiously close on the other side of the doors. She took a few more steps forward, tugging at her luggage as she moved away from the open door, trying not to let anyone notice that there was anyone in the deserted room. "Anyone could find us here."
He arched an eyebrow in undisguised irony, not the least bit concerned at her claim. He seemed to find the worried expression on her face amusing.
"What are you doing here, then? I didn't tell you to come, you came all by yourself. You're the reckless one."
Hermione frowned in disgust. He always managed to make her the one to blame for everything.
"Stop it..." she muttered, listlessly. She turned her face to look over her shoulder, but no one seemed to be entering the room after them. She allowed herself to relax her shoulders. "Perhaps we should —" she began, as she returned her gaze straight ahead. In time to find Draco's face moving closer to hers. Very. He had moved away from the door and taken a few steps in her direction without her noticing. To press his lips to hers, interrupting her unceremoniously. A single hand of his surrounded her waist and rested with an open palm on her lower back. Pulling her closer to him with a subtle but determined gesture.
Hermione lied to herself, and thought that his gesture had caught her so off guard that she hadn't been able to react to protest. But it wasn't true. She simply allowed herself to let go for a few seconds, feeling too weightless to renounce the sensation. The boy's hand on her back, holding her, felt firm but barely perceptible at the same time. And feeling the front of his body so close to hers, so suddenly, caused her body heat to rise immediately, as if her body had been flooded with warm water. Hermione allowed herself to raise her hands to clasp his sides, and reciprocate the now familiar caress of his lips. Feeling them move over hers, just a little. Just enough to make the contact a little deeper.
But then Hermione, overcome with a surge of common sense, made an effort to break away from him, pulling her face back slightly. He caught her gesture and agreed to part his lips from hers. But he did not let go of her back. He searched her eyes quizzically, questioning her reason for stopping with his gaze. Hermione gave him a look that she tried to fill with composure.
"The door is open. Anyone can come in..." she protested, determined, trying to make her voice steady. Though she could feel her heart beating against her throat. And his ribs under her hands. "They'll catch us."
His eyes traced a path that began in her dark orbs, flicking from one to the other quickly a couple of times, then glanced over her shoulder. Towards the open door. Apparently he was able to realise that she was right, but was unwilling to admit it.
Hermione then tried to pull back, releasing his sides and gently forcing him to release her back, which he did. She took a couple of steps backwards and stopped a cautious half a metre away from him.
"What excuse did you make for coming in here?" she asked cautiously, trying to generate a normal tone of voice. Draco, before answering, settled his body so that he leaned his shoulder against the closed door again, crossed his ankles and put his hands in his pockets. Seemingly trying to give his appearance an air of nonchalance.
"That I was going to look at the Bulletin Board," he confessed, jerking his head in the direction of the wide corkboard hanging on the wall next to the double doors. Hermione blinked, astonished. That was a good alibi.
"Very good," she praised, frowning, as if he had answered a class question correctly. "I'll say I was coming to do the same if anyone finds us here," she commented, thoughtfully. He gave a half-smile, seemingly smug that she considered his excuse worthy for her own use.
"I don't think anyone would find it suspicious to see us here together. We could just be arguing," he opined disinterestedly, with a shrug.
"No one who saw what just happened would think that," she protested, almost accusingly. Her eyes missed the scathing grin he gave her as they roamed over his shoulder, to scan the Bulletin Board behind him. Remembering something she definitely wanted to talk to him about.
Looking back into his silver eyes, the girl's expression had visibly softened. Forgetting about feeling worried that they would be caught there.
"I heard what you did the other day," Hermione confessed, more quietly. Draco looked at her, furrowing his blond eyebrows slightly in confusion. "About trying to change your patrol. The Prefect patrols," she specified, letting out a careful smile. Draco gave a grunt of understanding and looked away, not changing his nonchalant posture. As if it was a minor thing. "It was so... thoughtful. I'm pretty sure I know why you did it."
"Oh, do you?" he grunted, gruffly, returning his gaze to her eyes.
He looked defensive. As if he thought she was going to mock him for showing interest in seeing her again. Though she hadn't given him any sign to indicate that. In fact, he found the girl looking at him with esteem, serene, thankful. Which made him blink, still wary. But he did unintentionally relax his tense shoulders. Maybe... there was no need to dissemble, after all.
"Well, no harm in trying..." he added, his voice imperturbable. Almost cautious. Confirming why he had done so.
"You've lost points, I hear," Hermione corrected him, gently. He hesitated again, as if still unsure how to react. He ended up shrugging, with an air of contemptuous haughtiness that was easier for him.
"Whatever. Two classes with Snape and we'll be back in first place."
Hermione smiled shyly at him again, amused at his false confidence. She was sure it would have annoyed the hell out of him to lose points for his House.
"Thank you for trying. The idea wasn't all bad... I've been thinking all week about how we could meet again, too," she admitted, not looking embarrassed. It was stupid of her to pretend that she hadn't wanted to see him. She didn't want to pretend. He gave her an impassive, again almost distrustful look. "But I haven't been able to think of a way to communicate so that we could meet again... I don't think owls would be a very safe option."
"Notes in class?" he proposed simply, arching an eyebrow. In a less defensive tone. "They're usually pretty discreet. They're small messages. And we can write them in such a way that no one will know it's us, even if someone intercepts them."
Hermione thought for a few seconds. It was one of the options she had considered, and she agreed with him that it was probably the best. She remembered that he had sent her a note months ago, asking them to meet after school in the Clock Tower Courtyard. And no one had found out. She was surprised to realise that, one way or another, they had already been in a clandestine relationship for months.
"Yes, I think that's the best idea too," agreed the girl, folding her arms. "We'll put it into practice after the holidays, and see if it works..." she gave a self-conscious smile, which he returned in the form of a mocking twinkle in his eyes. Her gaze drifted to his dark luggage, "You're going home for the holidays, aren't you?" she questioned, subtly changing the subject.
Hermione witnessed him struggle with himself for several seconds, probably pondering whether or not to mock such an obvious question. But he ended up letting it go, or so Hermione thought, and merely nodded his head curtly, looking down at his own trunk as well. He seemed to still find it difficult to look her in the eye as they carried on a peaceful conversation. So different from the ones they'd had over the years.
"Yes, I'm going home. And Nott's coming with me," he commented, and then seemed to find enough determination to look her in the eye. The girl saw something else dancing in the boy's grey eyes, so she waited, expectantly. And sure enough, a moment later, he added, "He's been living in my house for a few years now, I don't know if you knew that."
Hermione smiled, flattered. Surprised that he felt comfortable enough with her to tell her anything about his private life.
"I know. In fact, he told me the other day," she confessed, gently.
Draco's eyes narrowed slightly. He moved away from the door, straightening up, and took his hands out of his pockets.
"The other day?" he questioned, intrigued. "Have you two spoken recently?"
Hermione nodded, understanding the reason for his concern.
"Yes. Among other things, he came to congratulate me because, apparently, there's nothing between you and me anymore," she revealed, almost jocularly, watching him carefully for his reaction.
Draco grimaced in despair and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, stressed. Typical Nott. He had to have a talk with Granger about it, of course. He couldn't stay still and quiet.
"Shit... Sometimes I forget that you usually talk to Nott. I should have told you the version I gave him," he complained, giving her a regretful look. Hermione gave him a quick lift of the corners of her mouth. "Yes, I told him there was nothing between us anymore. Just to see if he'd leave us alone. I decided that a white lie was better than keeping him watching us. After all, we agreed not to tell anyone..." He arched both eyebrows, and she smiled again, confirming that she hadn't either. "When did you say he told you?"
"I spoke to him a few days ago, during a Gryffindor team practice. He actually came to the pitch to apologise for telling you the truth about my... feelings," she confessed, with slight difficulty. Feeling a little uncomfortable. But Malfoy made no expression in particular, which she was grateful for. "One thing led to another, and he told me that you'd told him it was all over. I played along, don't worry," she hastened to assure him.
Draco, to her surprise, then gave her a cocky half-smile.
"Are you still mad at him for telling me you're crazy about me?" he questioned, searching her eyes, mockery glinting in his. Hermione raised both eyebrows, trying to look dismissive, but raised her bottom lip to return the smile.
"I don't think I've ever said anything like that in my entire life," she protested, her arrogant tone more typical of him. Draco maintained his sly grin.
"Just answer what you are being asked, Miss Granger," he admonished her mockingly, arching one of his eyebrows in a fairly close impersonation of the tone McGonagall would have used.
Hermione snorted in amusement. She averted her gaze and agreed to add more seriously, almost resignedly:
"Yes, it did hurt at first, I admit. I didn't expect it. I trusted him to tell him something no one else knew, and... unfortunately, you were the last person I wanted him to tell. But —" she sighed more deeply, "— he apologised. And you could say it didn't turn out so bad in the end, so he's forgiven," she ventured, taking it with humour and imbuing her voice with sarcasm. She looked up at him again and was pleased to see that his grey eyes were still glowing smugly, still fixed on hers. Listening to her attentively. "Though I'll be careful to not tell him any secrets in the future, certainly."
Draco let out a snort through his nose, a sort of carefree chuckle.
"Funny, I've made the same decision," he corroborated, scathing.
She widened her smile further. Then she looked down, biting her lower lip, still smiling. She couldn't help but still feel a little self-conscious to find herself joking with him. It felt very strange, almost surreal. She was still having trouble getting used to their new attitude towards each other, and she couldn't help but feel a perennial nervousness. A vague memory of the discomfort she had always felt in this boy's company, for so many years. But she recognised that the situation was pleasant. It amazed her that Malfoy was doing his part to at least be nicer, in his own way, than he had been so far. Sometimes she had doubted that he could. She had asked him for respect, for them to treat each other as equals, and so far he was keeping that part of the bargain. Hermione was surprised to find that, after the intimate conversation in the greenhouse, a new and natural complicity had developed between them. As if they were no longer obliged to prove, as a rule, that they hated each other at all times. At least not while they were alone together.
She looked at the young man's luggage, searching for something to say. On top of the dark, sleek leather trunk, with an ornate 'M' embroidered on the side, was a large cage with a huge owl inside. Hermione stared at it for a moment, rapt, then pointed at it.
"It's an Eagle Owl, isn't it?" she asked, curious, staring at the boy without being able to hide her excitement. Draco followed her gaze and contemplated the animal for a couple of seconds, processing the change in conversation.
"Aha, he's from my family," the blond commented, without much enthusiasm. "He's almost my age."
"Geez, that old?" the girl was astonished, bending down a little to take a closer look at it with an expert eye. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear to keep it out of the way. The owl narrowed its large orange eyes at her nearness, ruffling its brown feathers slightly. "Does he have a name?"
"Armand," Draco admitted, his eyes scanning her profile as she gazed up at the animal.
The owl hooted loudly at the mention of its name. At that sound, the basket on top of the girl's trunk shook, threatening to tip over. There was a muffled meow. Hermione jumped to her feet and hurried to stabilise it. She also secured it better to the trunk by tightening the leash, cautiously. Draco watched her do so with distracted curiosity.
"You have a cat, don't you?" he commented roughly, glancing at the wicker basket, which was still wiggling ominously. "An orange one or something..."
"Crookshanks," she corroborated, looking down at the basket with a small smile. There was another meow. "I've had him for about four years..."
"I'm not very fond of cats," Malfoy admitted, with an expression of undisguised disinterest. "I find them distasteful... They're not very distinguished."
Hermione turned her face to him and gave him a look of deep contempt.
"Sure. According to you, an owl is much more elegant than a cat, isn't it?" she narrowed her eyes dangerously.
"Owls are useful. Your cat is bandy-legged, I saw him on the train once," he mumbled, scornfully, leaning his shoulder against the closed door again.
The girl snorted loudly through her nose.
"What has elegance got to do with utility?" she protested, annoyed, though again distracted. She glanced back over her shoulder towards the open door. Her nervousness returning. So far, no one had come. The young woman felt as if she had slightly lost track of time. Had they been there long? She couldn't help but feel a sickening worry as she realised that the whole of Hogwarts was behind that door, only a few feet away from them, more than capable of discovering them together at any moment. But the heady sensation of adrenaline almost completely overshadowed it, whispering to her that it was all right to be in his company a little longer. The thrill of the forbidden, the danger of being caught at any moment, of breaking the rules so blatantly... It could be addictive. And what Malfoy's presence provoked in her was even more so.
"So you're going home too?" Draco suddenly commented; and his voice, slurring its syllables, tore her out of her thoughts. She looked up at him, giving him another serene smile.
"Not really," she admitted honestly. "I'm going to Ron's for Easter. And Harry's coming too."
The blond's face darkened in such a way that the girl was almost frightened. He arched both eyebrows until they were almost hidden by his blond fringes, and his expression became undisguised incredulous.
"Does that shitty house have room for guests?" he spat unceremoniously, with a distinct grimace of scepticism. "You've got to be joking."
Hermione felt a sudden heat invade her back, setting her on fire at his explicit tone of contempt.
"It's not shitty at all," she said coldly and firmly, between her teeth. "It may be no palace, but it's a wonderful house. And of course it has room for guests."
Draco rolled his eyes, as if he'd been amused, and let out a sceptical laugh.
"Please, Granger, don't make fun of me. Or the metric system. There must be cockroaches in that shack big enough to say 'good morning' to you. They'll take up all the space..."
"Oh, what the —? That's not true!" protested the young woman, indignantly, in a louder voice. "You've never seen it, you have no right to speak, and even less to despise it, without knowing it!"
"I don't need to see it to know it's the size of a rat hole," he retorted, arching an eyebrow malevolently. "I think it's called 'The Burrow', isn't it? It's rather appropriate, considering the weasels that live there... Just make sure they don't make you sleep in the pigsty... Because at least they'll have a pigsty, won't they?"
Hermione felt as if she had just been slapped in the face. Her lips remained parted, but she was unable to respond to such vicious attacks on the best family she knew. She scrutinised Malfoy's expression, satisfied and arrogant, devoid of remorse, and wondered how he could be so cruel. How could he enjoy mocking that family like that. How could the poverty of these good people earn the disgust of people like the Malfoy family.
"You're an arsehole," Hermione stated simply. Without shouting at him. Without anger. With a tone of icy disappointment, which, for Draco, was a thousand times worse. He would almost have preferred her to have punched him a fourth time. The dejection that suddenly flashed across Granger's face pierced him like a dagger. His own mischievous grin slid across his face as Hermione picked up her trunk, her cat's basket still wobbling precariously, and turned back in the direction of the door.
"Granger," Draco called, annoyed, as he watched her walk to the doorway. He took a step forward, but he knew he couldn't go after her. They couldn't be seen leaving the room together. "Grang —"
He fell silent as the last wheel of the girl's trunk rolled out the door. He stared at the place where she had disappeared, bewildered. He could hardly understand what had just happened. What had that been for? Why had she left like that? It hadn't been a big deal...
He ran his tongue over his lips, finding them dry. He swallowed and looked away from the door, leaving his gaze lost in the lonely and enormous Great Hall.
Fuck.
Everything was going well, they'd finally managed to see each other after days of having to dissemble... Why had Granger had to get so dignified in order to defend those stupid Weasleys? Bloody pauper, big nose... It was all that red-headed idiot's fault.
Draco took a step back and leaned his back against the closed door, letting out a snort. He looked down at his trunk. Granger was going to spend a whole week at that oaf's house. Had he invited her? Yeah, it must have been that guy's idea. And Potter would be there too, of course. The inseparable trio. In fact, it was obvious that it wouldn't be the first time they'd been to the Weasleys' house. They'd been friends for years. They would have spent many holidays at their house. Maybe months at a time, in the summer.
Those two cretins... they could be with her whenever they wanted. They didn't have to hide, they didn't have to pretend. It was too unfair that two morons like those two could so easily achieve something that cost him a tremendous effort.
He felt the gloom come over him, crushing him to the floor. Potter and Weasley were her friends. They were cretins, but they were her best friends. He shouldn't have messed with them in front of her. It was obvious that she would be furious. How could she not be? He should have shut his stupid mouth...
He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, deeply frustrated with himself. And, to make matters worse, he'd barely been able to kiss her. They hadn't had such an interaction since the day of the greenhouse, days ago. And now he was going to go another week without her. Fuck. And all because he'd messed with those Weasleys. Granger hadn't even said goodbye to him...
He grabbed his luggage roughly, startling his owl into hooting, and strode towards the door with long strides. He stepped out into the crowd that still thronged the Entrance Hall, searching for Nott with his eyes.
He made up his mind to go out of the oak doors at the same time as Ronald Weasley to trip him up on his huge feet.
"I swear I'm flabbergasted. That's the last thing I expected..." said Ron, frowning, as he manually removed the feathers one by one from the turkey his mother was roasting for dinner. "And she says she doesn't remember anything? Nothing at all?"
"Nothing at all," Hermione corroborated, stirring the pot of potatoes on the fire with a wooden spoon. "She says all she remembers was falling asleep with her friends, and when she woke up, she was in that empty shed. She doesn't know how she got there. And she says she didn't see any Death Eaters."
Mrs. Weasley had asked them to finish preparing some of the dinner while she tidied up the front yard, and Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny took advantage of the uninspiring task to ramble on about the latest news from The Quibbler. It had made the front page that morning: the young French girl who had disappeared months ago without a trace had reappeared in a Muggle farming family's shed. She was alive and unharmed. And, in fact, she had absolutely no memory of what had happened. Not that she had supposedly been kidnapped, not that weeks had passed, nothing at all. For her, no time had passed. She had no idea where she had been all that time. And no one, not the Aurors who rescued her, not the Healers at St Mungo's who examined her, not Xenophilius Lovegood of The Quibbler, not the readers, understood anything.
"Now I don't know what to think," Harry confessed meditatively, placing the cutlery on the long kitchen table with the help of an equally astonished Ginny. "It all seems so strange to me. How could she have been in Voldemort's clutches for so long and come out unscathed?"
"I'm with Harry," the red-haired girl said heatedly. "Who's to say she's not lying and she's really on the side of You-Know-Who? What if it's all a sham?"
"Her memory has most likely been erased, that's why she doesn't remember anything! It's obvious!" Hermione exclaimed, shocked. "Just because they didn't kill her, or she doesn't remember what they did to her, doesn't mean they didn't do anything to her..."
"Why don't they give her Veritaserum to see if she's telling the truth?" Ron suggested, from his chair, without much conviction. "Then everyone would know for sure..."
"It is not a hundred per cent reliable potion. The person to whom it is given tells 'their truth'. What they believe to be true. They may be honest answers, but not true," Hermione replied automatically. "The effects can even be resisted. Besides, giving Veritaserum is against the rights of the individual. You can't just give it to anyone."
"We're at war!" Harry blurted, putting down a fork with such abruptness that it clinked. "There are no such rights now! Anyone can be a traitor!"
"Harry, how can you be so insensitive?" Hermione despaired. "That poor girl is most likely innocent, just another victim of Voldemort's atrocities. She was kidnapped and who knows what they did to her..."
"Precisely! According to her, no one's done anything to her," Harry snorted. "They kidnap her and then release her, without the slightest scratch, without torturing her... What's the point? Something's fishy going on here..."
"I repeat, they could have erased her memory. In fact, it's most likely. I agree with you that there's something strange about Death Eaters' behaviour," Hermione admitted, stopping stirring the sauce and turning to face her friend, arms folded, "but I insist that the poor girl is just a victim."
"You may be right," Harry corroborated, lowering his voice and looking at her in a friendlier way, restoring the peace between them. "They may have erased her memory. But why would they do that? What have they got from her and then just release her? Isn't that too risky?"
"It doesn't seem like He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to release a prisoner. Wouldn't it have been easier to kill her?" Ginny corroborated softly, arching her eyebrows. Harry nodded emphatically, pointing at her as if he thought the same. But, seeing the angry look on Hermione's face, he hastened to add, peacefully:
"I'm just saying that they should do more research on the matter before they leave her in peace."
"It said in The Quibbler that she was being examined by trauma Healers at St Mungo's," Ron commented, ruffling his fringe to get rid of some of the turkey feathers that had floated in. "Apparently she's had a terrible shock when she found out that she's been missing for months..."
"Which makes sense," Hermione murmured.
"And they're also saying that it's most likely what you're saying, Hermione. That the last few months have probably been erased from her memory. But, officially, they can't say for sure. They admit it's most likely, but they haven't been able to prove it. And it seems that it's very difficult to reverse such a spell. To erase so many months from her mind they must have resorted to spells that are very tough on the mind, and yet the girl, as far as we can tell, is doing well. In fact, they say she'll soon be allowed to go back to school, and she'll be able to live a normal life," Ron said, then stuck out his tongue a little and wagged it in disgust, apparently trying to spit out some feather that had inadvertently slipped into his mouth.
"She was a pure-blood, wasn't she?" Ginny asked, more peacefully. She stretched to grab a handful of plates from a top shelf and handed half of them to Harry. "I mean, she wasn't Muggle-born or anything, right? If that had been the case, I'd be even more surprised that they'd let her go free... But, being a wizard-born, it makes a bit more sense to me."
"Yes, that's right, she's a pure-blood. And her name's Samantha I-don't-know-what, by the way. Something French," Ron half-reported, then continued to wag his tongue. Suddenly he coughed a little and put his hand to his throat with a panicked look on his face. "Merlin, I think I swallowed it..." He looked at the dead turkey in his hands suspiciously, as if assessing whether it was poisonous or not.
"Samantha Minette," Hermione completed in an instant, displaying her fantastic memory. "And it's true that the blood status worries me a little... Wouldn't it be more like Voldemort to kidnap a Muggle-born?"
"It depends on what he used her for," Harry objected, glancing at the table as he set the plates down.
"She was just a student," Hermione protested, seemingly outraged at the Death Eaters' actions. "How can she be of any use to him? She's our age..."
"I don't know," Harry admitted regretfully. "Hopefully your father will find out something from the Ministry and tell us..." he added, looking at Ron and Ginny. The young woman nodded, still in thought, as Ron shrugged, apparently forgetting about the feather that must now be travelling down his oesophagus.
"I doubt it, but I wish," agreed Ron. Letting out a loud sigh, as if to end the conversation, he seemed to force himself to look more cheerful. He rose from his chair and carried the turkey to the sink, swinging it along the way as if dancing with it. "In the meantime, let's talk about the new techniques that our fantastic Captain Harry has come up with for when we train again..."
Harry laughed in spite of himself. Understanding that Ron wanted to relax the situation and not talk about such dark subjects on holiday.
"Demelza was very worried about the three of us going away for Easter," Harry confessed with a smile. "She thinks we'll be falling too far behind the other teams."
"Oh, come on! I don't think the rest of them will be training this week. I'm sure there'll be a lot of other players leaving..." Ron mentally reviewed the ones he knew. "I'm sure the Hufflepuff Captain won't be leaving, I was once told he must have problems at home and he's going as little as possible."
"Wow..." Harry murmured in astonishment, empathetic. "Well yes, he's staying, but the Beaters are leaving."
"That's what I was saying. And from Ravenclaw...?"
"Goldstein is leaving," Ginny reported, as she finished placing the last two dishes on the table.
"But the rest of them will still be training, Demelza told me," Harry said, with a shrug of his shoulders.
"Aha, right. Does anyone know if the Slytherins are leaving?" Ron wanted to know, sniffing at the casserole that Hermione was stirring again.
"Does anyone care?" Ginny replied disinterestedly, then made a long, childish fart with her tongue, her expression bored, which caused Harry to burst out laughing.
"Malfoy's the only one going home," Hermione replied immediately, without thinking, still stirring the pot. Ron and Ginny both fixed their eyes on her instantly, holding them wide and looking identically bewildered.
Hermione felt her heart skip a beat — what were those looks for? Was it suspicious that she knew? Had she used some special tone when talking about Malfoy that they had appreciated? Hell, she should have kept quiet...
"Ginny, I'm scared, why does Hermione know anything about Quidditch?" Ron asked jokingly, pretending to be creeped out, and looking at his friend with his blue eyes still wide. His sister followed his joke and also looked at the girl with mock dread. Hermione, slow to realise that their surprise was only feigned as a joke, opened and closed her mouth a couple of times, unsure of what to say. And then Harry, managing to recover from the fit of laughter that Ginny's fart had provoked, unknowingly came to her rescue:
"She's right, Malfoy was leaving Hogwarts this week too. Demelza told us so when we said goodbye in the Entrance Hall," the dark-haired boy corroborated, wiping tears from under his glasses. "And they don't have Beaters yet either. Montague hasn't replaced Crabbe and Goyle yet."
"That's true... Well, they're going to be very, very late with training. Unless they get two replacement gorillas soon, they won't be able to train them long enough before the next match," Ginny opined, no longer looking at Hermione with mock surprise.
"It's still a while before it's Slytherin's turn to play," Ron commented, his lower back resting on the kitchen counter next to where Hermione stood. "But it's true that they should hurry up. Although, well, if they don't, that's fine by me..." he grunted, crossing the fingers of both hands hopefully.
"That Crabbe and Goyle thing was mind-boggling, what a mess they've made. Poor Montague, he must be hitting the roof," his sister commented distractedly, sitting down at the table, legs dangling, once she'd finished setting out all the necessary eating utensils. "Those Cro-Magnon men outdid themselves at the match. I still can't believe they did such a stupid thing..."
"They lost the match because of them. I don't think they can fight for the Cup anymore... Montague certainly won't be too happy," Ron commented, shrugging his shoulders. "And he's only kicked them off the team, I'd have given them a few spins and released them in the Forbidden Forest..."
"I'm sure he's thought about it," Ginny chuckled, "I don't know what went through their minds... Whatever problems they might have had with Malfoy, they should have dealt with it another way."
"Are you suggesting that Crabbe and Goyle do some thinking?"
"It must have been a serious problem. Because it seems that, even now, Malfoy doesn't even want to see them anymore," Harry opined, folding his arms. A wrinkle creased between his eyebrows. "They haven't been seen together again, have they?"
"That's true," Ron admitted, reminiscing about the last few times he'd seen his blond classmate. "It seems that friendship is dead forever... How dramatic," he scoffed, smiling without the slightest hint of sorrow.
"I don't think I'd forgive them if I were Malfoy either," Ginny reflected unexpectedly, frowning and leaning her weight back on her hands. "He doesn't need them, anyway. I'm sure he has other friends to be with. He's out of bodyguards now, but that's all. I doubt they'd make for interesting conversation..."
"Are you saying that Malfoy does have interesting conversation? Since when?" Ron laughed incredulously, looking at her as if she had just uttered a sacrilege. His sister returned a look of blatant annoyance.
"Come on, Ron, grow up. Malfoy will be many things, and few of them good. He's a pig, and a cowardly rat, but he's nobody's fool," she said as if it were self-evident, looking at her brother with an arched eyebrow as if daring him to deny it. Ron raised his eyes to the sky, dumbfounded.
"That's what I've been waiting to hear. Yeah, he is nobody's fool... He's everybody's fool."
"Malfoy's always hanging out with other Slytherin people now," Harry corroborated, interjecting before Ginny, amused, threw a teaspoon at her brother. He was having trouble holding back his laughter, though. "Zabini, Montague and so on. Or Parkinson," he scratched his chin, trying to visualise Malfoy and his recent friendships. His green eyes then fixed on a motionless Hermione, her back to him, her full attention on the steaming casserole. "Or that other Slytherin boy. Your... friend, Hermione. What was his name?" he questioned cautiously, and forcing a kind tone.
"Theodore Nott," the girl said in a monotone voice, not looking at him. Harry's face twisted slightly, and he grimaced in embarrassment. He sensed that her friend wasn't too keen on talking about him. At least not with them. And he feared it was because of the fight they'd had a while back.
He managed to meet Ginny's eyes and gave her a pleading look. She caught it instantly and cleared her throat matter-of-factly.
"How's it going with him, Hermione, are you two still getting along? Tell us something," she encouraged, smiling a friendly smile, trying to imbue her voice with a cheerful tone. As if it was just another topic to discuss, a completely harmless one. "Have you two seen each other lately?"
"We had Arithmancy class together on the last day of school. But we didn't talk after class. The last time was during your Quidditch practice," Hermione admitted, still stirring the casserole. Her voice sounded softer, though.
"Oh yes, that's right. Of course, I suppose you can't always get a chance to talk calmly in class. So, what, did he tell you something interesting in the pitch? Was he going home for Easter, too?" Ginny questioned, again in that convincingly affable tone. She'd managed to make it sound like a really pleasant conversation. Hermione shook her head, still with her back to her friends.
"No... Well, actually, yes. The thing is —" she tried to explain more clearly, "— he's not going to his house, he's going to Malfoy Manor. It's his home now, though. Since his father was imprisoned in Azkaban he lives there. The Malfoy's have taken him in."
Ginny, surprised, seemed speechless. And it took her a few seconds to find something to say again.
"Gosh, I didn't know that..." she commented, with sincere softness. "And his mother? Well," she corrected herself, composing a respectful grimace, "actually, I sense the answer..."
"She died years ago," Hermione confirmed gently. Ginny, behind her friend's back, exchanged an affected glance with Harry, who looked equally shocked at the new information. Ron, standing next to Hermione, watching her serious profile as she spoke, suddenly interjected:
"Are you two so close that he's even told you these things?" Ron questioned, unable to control his brusque tone. "I don't think it's something he goes around telling..."
Hermione's face tightened. She turned it to look at Ron, causing her thick hair to sway menacingly. Her eyes were a reflection of the irritation she felt.
"Well, yes, he told me. Which I appreciate. I don't think he's told many people either."
"And if you've talked so much, he hasn't told you anything interesting about Malfoy?" Ron added, not letting his exasperated look drop one iota. "If he lives in his house, he must have all sorts of information about him..."
Hermione's face tightened with renewed ferocity. Almost astonished. She returned her gaze to the pot, to continue stirring, trying to control herself.
"No, we haven't talked about him," she replied in a dry, slightly shaky whisper.
"That means he's really just like Malfoy, and thinks just like him," Ron protested, raising his voice a little. "He'll be a lover of the Dark Arts as well..."
"If he thought like Malfoy he wouldn't be friends with Hermione, Ron," observed Ginny laconically, looking at her brother with a clear warning in her eyes. "And I don't think he's going to be telling his friend's intimacies around, either..."
"Well, he could have told her something, couldn't he?" Ron defended himself, folding his arms. "I was just asking. I'm sure he knows what really happened between Crabbe, Goyle and Malfoy. I don't believe what he told you during the match, Hermione, that he didn't know anything..."
"Maybe he does, but he doesn't want to say," Ginny agreed cordially. She gave her brother a warning look again.
"I'm not going to interrogate Theodore Nott," Hermione said with unexpected firmness.
"Of course not," Ginny hastened to say, keeping her tone peaceful. "I was going to say that he was perfectly within his rights not to tell if he didn't want to..."
"Whatever happened, we may never know," Harry tried to settle the matter, in a louder voice, trying to help Ginny. He smiled a more sympathetic smile, "Would it seem strange if I told you that I even feel sad about it? Not seeing them together... They've always been inseparable. Seeing Malfoy without Crabbe and Goyle is like seeing Hagrid without a beard."
"Well, it is," Ginny agreed, laughing. "They've never really been friends, though, that much is clear to us all. I wouldn't be surprised if Malfoy had done something to Crabbe and Goyle as revenge. In my opinion, Malfoy —"
And Malfoy. And Malfoy. And Malfoy.
Those were the only words that penetrated Hermione's brain. Draco's last name was the only thing that pierced through the cotton wool wrapping that flooded her head. The rest of the conversation her friends were having was just empty words. She didn't dare look up from the pot she was still stirring. She didn't dare look at her friends. To add anything else.
How could she look them in the face? How could she listen to their insults towards Draco and say nothing? How could she side with one or the other? After what she was doing behind their backs... She couldn't talk about Malfoy in the presence of her friends.
Whatever she said about the Slytherin, it would be wrong in her eyes. If she turned against him, she would feel like a traitor to herself given the feelings she had for him. And defending him in front of her friends was simply unthinkable at the moment. Because that way it would almost be like confessing what was going on between Draco and her, and Hermione wouldn't even consider it. Especially not with what she was hearing. Hearing once again how much they detested the boy. How could she tell them the truth under those circumstances?
But how long could they stay like this, hiding from the world?
Not to mention, to top her mood, how despondent she had felt the last few days. Ever since the holidays began. She felt happy and distracted when she was with her friends, and they were having a great time together. But she couldn't get rid of the thorn stuck in her chest.
And it was because she was missing Malfoy.
It was as simple and as disturbing as that. She was missing Draco Malfoy. Even though her last words to him had been an insult. Even though she'd been repulsed by the insults he'd uttered towards the Weasley family, even though she'd been furious with him... Despite all of that, she was missing him. And it seemed pitiful of her.
It wasn't as if they saw each other very often at Hogwarts, especially not in the last week, but being at The Burrow was almost worse than being in the castle. There was no way to see him there, not even from a distance, simply because he wasn't there. She had left Hogwarts angry and disillusioned with him, with the way he was, with his eagerness to belittle those he considered beneath him. There had even been times in the first few days of the week when she had caught herself thinking that enough was enough. That she had realised, as a revelation, that she wanted nothing to do with someone like that. And she had been proud of her decision, happy to be free of such a complicated relationship. She had even started to plan in her mind how to tell Malfoy that she wanted to end what they had. But the days had gone by one by one, and Hermione's feelings of resentment for the young man had been fading by the day.
And now she felt the same as she had when she was at Hogwarts. Longing to meet him again. To talk to him. To kiss him.
Longing for the feel of his lips against hers. Their last kiss had been fleeting, pressing, fraught with nervousness on her part at the prospect of someone catching them. She wanted to lose herself in his lips again, calmly, to enjoy his closeness, just as she had in the greenhouse.
Hermione closed her eyes. The last thing they had done before saying goodbye had been to argue. They should have kissed, hugged, or simply wished each other a good week. That's what they would have done if they really... loved each other. If they were a real couple. But what was between them didn't work like that. They had argued. It was pathetic.
"Hermione, it's burning!"
The girl snapped out of her stupor with a sharp wince. Her gaze immediately darted to the pot she was stirring and she caught a glimpse of freckled hands, which she identified as Ron's, hastily removing it from the fire. The sauce was steaming and bubbling, and some of the potatoes had spilled out. Ron shrieked in pain as he burned himself and dropped the casserole immediately, leaving it teetering dangerously over another unlit cooker. More charred potatoes fell onto the counter.
The smell of burning permeated their nostrils. Hermione had gone pale, and was still holding the spoon in the air.
"I'm sorry!" she managed to utter in a shrill voice, covering her mouth with both hands. "I'm terribly sorry, I got distracted..."
"It's all right," Ron mumbled, shaking his sore hands and sniffing carefully at the pot, which emitted a strong, unpleasant smell of ash. Ginny hurried to open the windows. "It smelled better before, but I'm so hungry I'm going to eat it anyway. By the way, have you seen where Mum's kept the chocolate eggs filled with Fizzing Whizbees?"
Harry let out a nervous chuckle, and rubbed Hermione's arms from behind in an attempt to downplay what had happened. Ginny shrugged with a smile, waving a rag to help the smoke out of the kitchen.
Hermione could only close her eyes in shame.
For burning the sauce, and for thinking about whom she shouldn't be thinking about.