Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter NOR any of his friends NEITHER any of his enemies. It's hard to admit, but when I'm done with them all, I have to return them to Joanne K. Rowling in an original wrapping and unharmed. I make no money, I mean no harm.
Patchwork
Veterans
Their private common room was a cosy place, lightly furnished and decently coloured. There were two desks in there, each long enough to host two of them, three comfortable armchairs before a fireplace, a soft beige rug on the floor, a row of even windows overlooking the Hogwarts' greenhouses, and two simple doors on opposing sides of it, each leading to a small bedroom.
"Good," Neville remarked while placing his shrivelfigs on the windowsill in the boys' shared bedroom. "No stairs there. I call it an improvement."
"You should have been a Slytherin, then," Draco responded from his bed. He had laid down on it the moment he had seen his luggage at the bedpost. "No stairs to dormitories, either."
"Is it closer to the Great Hall as well?" Neville asked. He had taken liking to the place immediately, not missing the violate red colouring at all. He would have liked the Slytherin colouring, he thought.
"Hard to tell. Probably not, but then, it's a maze down there. I won't miss that at all. I must have got lost at least thousand times before I learned how to find my own common room." Draco sat up and inspected Neville's little windowsill garden. "But there are no windows down there," he continued.
"Terrible place," Neville shrugged. "Let's see what's Hermione doing." They peeked into the common room and found Hermione's door standing ajar. They looked at each other - there was always a possibility they were banned from the "girls' dormitories" and neither of them wanted to find out how the ban was ensured. They stopped worrying about the possible ban when they heard a sharp intake of breath from Hermione's room and burst in, wands in hands. Hermione was standing next to her bed with a palm pressed against her mouth. The boys hid their wands as they saw the palm in question belonged to Hermione.
"What happened?" Neville asked.
"Nothing. I'm fine," Hermione replied hastily. She stepped closer to her bed and started folding something lying on it.
"What's that?" Draco queried curiously. It seemed to be a blanket of some kind, only it was made of several different cloths.
"Is that the patchwork we made before Christmas?" Neville said and reached for it.
"Yes, I... I forgot about it. I don't know how it got in my trunk." Hermione let go of the patchwork and closed her trunk. "Hey, it's nearly dinnertime, I'll wait for you in the Great Hall." And she fled from the room. Draco moved to follow her, but Neville grabbed his arm.
"She misses Crookshank," he explained. "Give her a minute."
"Oh," was all Draco managed to say. He picked up the patchwork and studied it. "Isn't this from the skirt Luna Lovegood used to wear? The one everyone laughed at?"
"I liked it," Neville said stiffly.
"And this can only be a part of the famous dress robes of Ronald Weasley. And I think I saw Harry wearing..."
"Draco," Neville said pointedly. Draco looked up from the patchwork, eyes wide. It struck him the small blanket held too much memories for Neville and Hermione, which had been what had startled Hermione in the first place. He mumbled a quiet apology, dropped the patchwork and looked out of the window to cover his embarassment. "I think Hagrid's breeding something," he said after a while, pointing at a large building that had appeared in distance, but still on the Hogwarts' grounds. After hesitating for a minute, Neville looked over his shoulder.
"Nice. Big enough to keep a dragon."
"Are you trying to scare me out of here?"
"Me?" Neville tried for a completely and utterly innocent look, but by the short laughter the expression caused Draco make, he was unsuccessful.
"Not all of us are brave Gryffindors, you know." Now it was Neville's turn to laugh.
"You mean stupid by that, don't you?" he asked, feigning being insulted.
"Me? Never!" They ended up nearly rolling on the floor laughing, literally.
"Okay - okay," Neville gasped between fits of laughter. "Maybe we shouldn't let Hermione wait too long. She doesn't take it well, remember the Yule Ball incident?"
"No, I don't. Not all of us are stupid Gryffindors, you - ow! That hurt!" But Neville was already at the door.
"... inept, inadequate, infuriating..."
"Have you been reading a dictionary?" Tisha asked sweetly to interupt the angry muttering Snape had been consumed in ever since she had entered the teachers' lounge five minutes ago.
"... students," Snape finished with a malevolent glitter in his eyes. Tisha smiled.
"They are just children," she remarked while trying to get an old coffee machine to work.
"They are careless, inattentive, cheeky, inept..."
"... inadequate, infuriating... As if you were - well, I guess you were different," Tisha said with a long inspective look at Snape. "Ow!" She awarded the coffee machine a disgusted glance.
"What exactly are you trying to do?" Snape asked.
"To get a cup of coffee!"
"Nothing easier," Snape replied silkily, waved his wand and filled Tisha's cup with a brown steaming liquid. Seeing the superlicious smile made Tisha only feel worse, and she pushed the cup away and tapped the floor with her shoe.
"Yes, miss?" came the immediate reply.
"Dobby, would you please get me a cup of coffee?" The change of Snape's expression, however short it was, lifted Tisha's spirit.
"Yes, miss! Dobby makes the best coffee, miss!" Dobby bounced up and down with excitement before popping away, presumably to the kitchen. Snape curled his lip and turned to borrow a copy of Daily Prophet from the table. He quickly scanned the headlines and left the teachers' lounge before Tisha finished her cup of coffee.
Tisha left the empty cup on the table and turned to the exit herself. Her own cup caught her eye. She picked it up carefully and sniffed at it.
It smelled like coffee. And it was still hot.
The boys found Hermione sitting at a small table near the long wall opposing the staff table. To their suprise, she was petting a snow-white owl.
"Hedwig?" Neville exclaimed. She made a soft chittering sound to greet him.
"She flew to me when I sat down," Hermione said. "I think - I think she had come here to look for Harry." Hedwig had disappeared shortly after Harry's death. They had expected her to come back to Hermione, as she had known her to be Harry's friend, once she had realised Harry couldn't be found anymore.
Apparently, the owl had decided she had become unserviceable rather than admitting her master had become unreachable. She must have given up her task, judging by the affectionate way in which she accepted Hermione's ministrations.
The food appeared on their plates and Neville joined in the reunion through feeding Hedwig an odd piece of meat every minute or so, while Draco chose to watch the rest of the students instead. Hedwig had treated him as a dangerous and evil being last time he had come to her vicinity. By keeping his eyes averted, he had learned, he could stop her from lashing out at him.
Their table stood in the middle of the long wall and through the gap between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables the staff table could be seen. He recognised most of the teachers - Professor - correction - Headmistress McGonagall in the middle, with Professor Sprout at her right hand and Professor Vector, presumably the new Head of the Gryffindor House, further down the table. Professors Moody, Grubbly-Plank and Hooch were discussing vividly next to an empty place usually reserved for Hagrid. Draco felt a wave of nausea washing over him and had to remind himself this wasn't the same Moody who had transfigured him in a ferret four years ago.
On the other hand, the rest of the staff hadn't got the least bit suspicious over the incident, so transfiguring a troublesome Slytherin was very probably in Moody's character, wasn't it?
Next to Flitwick on McGonagall's left, Snape had just taken his seat. Draco studied him from the relative safety of distance. He had believed he could read that face - up until the day when he had learned Snape had lied not only to him and his parents, but also to the Dark Lord - successfully. The only thing he had learned since then about Snape was never to believe the first impression again.
There was a vacant seat next to Snape. Draco recognised Professors Sinistra and Babbling and assumed either the new Muggle Studies or Transfiguration professor was running late for dinner. Either that, or the unknown one had decided to eat quickly enough to evade Snape's company.
"Hermione, do you happen to know who's going to teach Transfiguration?" he queried, eyes still fixed on the staff table.
"Professor McGonagall," she replied. "Good think I asked, eh?" she added with a smirk. Draco glanced at her and couldn't help smiling. It seemed the smirk just didn't work properly on her face, making her look nice instead of smug.
"And Muggle Studies?" he challenged, overcoming memories that threatened to spoil his mood. Hermione frowned a little and shrugged, a certain sign she didn't know.
"Your aunt," Neville answered instead. Draco turned back to the staff table, and sure enough, before his shocked eyes, Tisha was sitting down next to Snape.
"But she's a Squib!"
"You sound very much like Severus right now," Neville remarked, putting down his cutlery and dedicating all his attention to Draco, as if the Slytherin was giving a particularly amusing show.
"Me? Never," Draco muttered and watched in amazement that his aunt had started a conversation with Snape... a conversation that didn't end immediately.
"You know, I was quite surprised to discover you can make coffee."
"I am a Potions Master - did you expect me to fail such an easy task?" Snape growled. Tisha chuckled.
"From all I remember from Lucius' attempts, potions smell horribly and are mostly indigestible or poisonous."
"It would be more accurate to say his attempts were indigestible and smelled horribly," Snape retorted. Tisha shot a glance sideways, hardly containing laughter.
"If you say so," she said finally. Snape didn't answer to that, unpleasantly touched by the laughter. He hadn't said so much, and althought Lucius had been Tisha's brother, they had never got along well anyway, had they? Besides, he had been right - Lucius hadn't been able to brew a chamomille tea. Instant.
After a short period of silence, which grew heavily uncomfortable, Tisha looked directly at Snape. He tried to scowl her into giving up her scrutinising him. She refused to be intimidated.
"You are such a riddle sometimes," she observed after a minute. To her surprise, Snape pushed his plate away abruptly, got up and left the Great Hall without another word.
No-one else seemed to notice, or at least the student body continued humming happily over the tables. Tisha scanned the Hall. Nothing out of...
Her eyebrows rose at the sight of her nephew sitting at a small table that hadn't been there during lunchtime. Draco toasted her silently with his goblet. She recognised the other young man at the table - Longbottom - who was frowning at her. And in the seat nearest the wall, next to Longbottom, there was a girl, too, who smiled at Tisha. The boys turned to the girl and started talking at once, undoubtlessly exchanging what little they knew about her.
Between an angry Snape and the companions of her nephew, Tisha chose the latter. She decided to wait until the trio left, but as the Great Hall grew emptier every minute, she changed her mind. Before long they were the last ones still sitting at the tables. Tisha rose and crossed the floor. Her steps echoed strangely and the journey seemed to take longer than it should have. Just as she was nearing the small table, something jumped up from the floor.
"Wheeesh!" a high, unpleasant voice shrieked. Tisha screamed. The bright cloud before her took a form of a laughing man, hanging in mid-air. He tumbled over several times, pointing at Tisha whenever he faced her.
"Ah-ha ha haaa, did you see that, did you see that?" he was screeching happilly.
"Peeves!" the girl from the table shouted angrily and jumped to her feet. "Get lost!"
"Ickle Squibby got all scared..."
"I am neither ickle nor scared!" Tisha exclaimed, having quickly recovered from surprise.
"... she should rather..."
"Waddiwasi!" the girl cried. She had drawn her wand and was pointing at Peeves firmly. Something Tisha didn't recognise hit Peeves and he tumbled once again, this time unwillignly, and hastily retreated, all the way cursing. Draco muttered, "Best of them all, I say," and the girl's cheeks turned pink at hearing that.
"Oh - thanks," Tisha said. "He must still remember me." Neville paled.
"You mean he has bothered you already? I thought Severus would get sensible enough to actually..."
"He bothered me more than twenty years ago," Tisha interrupted him. "Severus got sensible yesterday morning and devoted a few hours of his precious time to show me around the castle." Neville blushed.
"You were at Hogwarts twenty years ago?" Draco blurted out in surprise, while Neville mumbled, "Oh... fine." They looked at each other.
"Professor Dumbledore invited me to take OWLs when I was fifteen," Tisha explained. "Lucius called it a disgrace of wizarding education. But he, of course, found a lot of great things disgraceful." She moved to the last free seat at the table and looked at them.
"Have a seat, Professor," Neville said politely. "Would you like some pumpkin juice?" Tisha sat down and accepted a goblet filled with the sweet liquid.
"What subjects did you take?" Draco asked curiously. Hedwig, who had left Hermione's shoulder and perched on the table instead, nudged his hand with her beak. It didn't hurt and Draco just fed her a strap of beacon.
"Muggle Studies, History, and Herbology. I failed Herbology - Mum was really disappointed. She had hoped I would inherit her interest in plants."
"Oh - so I can't impress you with my collection of non-green leaves!" Neville exclaimed with a feigned disappointment. Hedwig hopped to him and hooted. He gave her a piece of meat.
"No, not really," Tisha laughed. "What are the three of you doing here?" she asked to fill the silence that fell upon them.
"We're students," Draco said. "A special seventh year - see?" He pointed at a brass plaque above the table. It read "Veterans". Hedwig hit the back of Draco's hand with her beak, and Draco drew both his hands in his lap, eyeing the owl accusingly.
"Huh. Sounds like a place for someone really old," Tisha remarked.
"We were thinking something like Nursery would be more appropriate," Neville agreed. Hedwig hooted angrily and jumped at his hand. Neville quickly pushed her away. "What's wrong with her?" he demanded.
Hermione tapped her shoulder to invite the owl back to her previous perch. Hedwig accepted, measuring both the boys with reproachful looks.
"I think she wants the two of you to remember you manners." Hermione and Tisha exchanges amused looks.
"I did keep all my food in my plate!" Draco protested wildly.
"I didn't say anything rude!" Neville exclaimed at the same moment.
"A nursery, definitely," Tisha mumbled.
"Hermione Granger," Hermione extended a hand towards Tisha.
"Tisha Malfoy."
"I guess you've met Neville, Professor," Hermione said after they shook hands.
"Just call me Tisha, all of you. And yes, we met yesterday."
"How did you get out of the dungeons, Prof... Tisha?" Neville blushed again. "Actually, as I take Muggle Studies..."
"Oh." Tisha frowned. "Outside of class?" she asked. "I tried to find my way, got lost and called Dobby for help."
"Where do you know Dobby from?" Neville yelped.
"What's Dobby doing here?" Draco squealed. Hedwig snorted and for a while, her little frame was shaking.
"Is she really laughing?" Neville asked.
"At us?" Draco added.
"As far as I know, Dobby worked for the Malfoys before Harry tricked Mr. Malfoy into giving him a sock," Hermione said. "And he came here afterwards." Tisha was suprised at hearing about Dobby working for the family. The pureblood wizards usually referred to house-elves as to their belongings. The more reasonable - or human - wizards would call them slaves, as they had no rights, no freedom, and of course no wages.
"He's been here for four years?" Draco seemed to be horrified. Neville chuckled. "What?" Not only Neville didn't stop sniggering, but Hedwig joined him, hooting with mirth. "Maybe we should change that," Draco pointed at the plaque again, "to Clown And His Audience or something!"
"Of course, Your Clownity!" Neville cried before bursting into laughter.
"Well, I could certainly change that to The United Circus of Hogwarts," Hermione offered while drawing her wand again.
"You wouldn't dare!" Draco said.
"You wouldn't manage," Neville challenged. Hermione gripped the wand tigher and looked him in the eye.
"Alte..."
"No! Nonono, you would manage!" Neville blurted out and waved both arms before the plaque as if trying to protect it. Hermione hid her wand. "I admit you would manage whatever piece of Transfiguration you try, just don't make it say anything like circus or clowns or such," he added hastily. "Please!" He pulled a pitiable, pathetic face and Draco turned away from him, laughing. Tisha sighed and made an elegant gesture.
"I bid thee good night, gentlemen. It's well past the nursery curfew." That made Neville start laughing as well.
"Sorry - it's just... just..." Neville shook his head. "Good to be back here. Like... before." Tisha couldn't feel the weight of the word herself, but she felt the change of mood. There was no laughter suddenly and the three young people - nearly children - seemed much older.
Veterans, indeed.
"I really should be going," Tisha said into the heavy silence. "I need to get ready for tomorrow classes." She stood up, and so did both the boys.
"Go ahead," Hermione encouraged them from her seat. "I'll finish my juice." She toasted them with her goblet and wryly smiled.
They left the Great Hall and Neville excused himself before taking the stairs down to the dungeons. Draco accompanied Tisha to her office. He wanted to talk to her, yet didn't know how to start, and they parted without having said more than a "good-night".
About half an hour later, Nearly Headless Nick entered the Great Hall through the wall behind the staff table to find one lone figure sitting at the Gryffindor table. The student was sitting with their face in hands and their shoulders were shaking, so Nick drifted closer to offer what comfort a house ghost can offer. But he recognised Hermione from the end of the table and changed his mind, leaving her to cry her tears in solitude she had chosen.
A/N: Yes, I know it took me long to update, and I apologise for it. I got stuck and couldn't finish it for the life of me, so I dedicated myself to another stuff (like my job and such) for a while. Well, it worked (although I think the ending of the chapter is a bit lame), and I'll try to add another before the end of the week.