TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of non-consensual sex! No graphic details but it is implied. Update after some time! If you want to see the cover art for this story, visit my tumblr under the same name or check me out on a03 or wattpad! ENJOY!
Hermione slammed the wooden locker shut with a forceful thud, stuffing her bag and clothing inside after having hastily changed into her detention coveralls. The sound reverberated through the otherwise quiet bathroom, drawing the attention of her fellow detention companions. Pansy, Theo, and Blaise were already gathered, dressed and ready for their duties. Neville sat with Blaise, who had an arm draped playfully around him, causing Neville to squirm uncomfortably.
"Heavy arm?" Pansy couldn't resist a snarky comment.
Hermione ignored Pansy's remark, brushing back her curls with her fingers as she walked over to the row of sinks and stood before the mirror. Her reflection stared back at her, analyzing every inch of her appearance. The dim bathroom lights cast a faint shadow over her face, highlighting the exhaustion that clung to her features. A subtle sadness lingered behind her eyes, a depth of emotion that told a story far beyond her years. There was no way others couldn't see that. She shifted her weight back and forth feeling suddenly insecure at her once-vibrant bushy curls, which seemed to have lost their bounce, falling flat and defeated, much like the spirit she had been struggling to maintain. Even her long eyelashes, which had always been a point of envy, couldn't mask the traces of sleepless nights. The natural blush of her cheeks and the mildly chapped texture of her lips spoke of her enduring youth, a reminder that beneath the weight she carried, a spark of vitality still resided.
It was then that she caught a glimpse of Draco through the mirror, zipping up his jumpsuit as he came around the partition lockers. How dare he show his face near her already? It was merely an hour ago that he'd gotten into a petty scrap with McLaggen, was almost expelled had she not been a witness, and she almost...they almost...they could've come to a truce and put this pedestrian rivalry behind them. But, she should've known that a Malfoy-with generations of a pureblood legacy- could never see her as equal enough to even be cordial with her.
"Where have you been?" Blaise asked as everyone turned their heads toward Draco.
"You were supposed to meet us in the courtyard to play Gobstones after practice. Pretty boring knowing I'm going to win," Pansy added, her signature lollipop perched between her lips.
Theo perked up at the mention of Gobstones, suddenly interested in the conversation, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You don't know you're gonna win. Maybe I let you think you're gonna win so that one day, I surprise you with an outrageous winning streak."
Pansy shot Theo a pointed look, challenging his claim. "It's our final year, idiot. Where's that winning streak?"
"The Quidditch scrimmage got a little intense and went well over the allotted time. You know how competitive I can be," Draco finally responded to Blaise's initial question. His answer deliberately brief. So brief, it got under Hermiones skin. He wouldn't even be there if she hadn't put herself on the line. She didn't even have to and quite honestly, she still doesn't know why she even vouched for him in the first place.
"I think it suits him well." It was a triumphant feeling, the level of snark Hermione directed toward him. Her lips curved into a half smile watching Draco's silver eyes tickle her gaze. After all, she was the only person who knew what had happened and clearly he didn't intend on divulging that information.
Hermione could see the cogs turning in Draco's mind as he rubbed his thumb and pointer finger together, dropped his eyes, and dragged them up her entire frame. "Perhaps you secretly prefer me looking a bit roughed up."
The comment caught Hermione off guard, a faint blush creeping onto her cheeks. She felt embarrassed but she couldn't show it. She ignored the conspiratorial looks exchanged between Theo, Blaise, and Pansy, and took Neville's arm, guiding him out of the bathroom with a dignified stride.
The group made their way to the meeting spot where they were introduced to Filch's replacement, Ms. Tivali. She spoke slowly and clearly, her demeanor slightly awkward but professional. Her behavior caught Hermione's attention. There was almost a subtle sense of familiarity with . It was strange almost, and perhaps she thought she'd met before. But, Hermione would remember a woman like that.
Ms. Tivali had begun to instruct them on how to properly scrub and clean the kitchens, assuring them that all the supplies they needed would be awaiting their arrival. As Theo made a snarky comment about 'what's the point of being wizards if they had to work like Muggles', Ms. Tivali responded with a tight, unemotional smile. She defended the value of hard work, stating that there was no shame in doing things the Muggle way, especially since none of them had fully regained their magic.
Just then, Hermione wondered if she too were a squib like Filch. She was quite defensive about muggles, which made Hermione think she could even be muggleborn. Suddenly, strangeness and familiarity became endearing. It sort of made sense now.
"How do you know about our magic?" Neville, ever curious, asked how she knew about their lack of powers, and the room fell silent. Hermione awaited the response. The beat of her heart stable but leery.
Ms. Tivali paused for a moment before responding, her smile never reaching her eyes. "I have been briefed by the Headmaster and Madame Pomfrey," she finally replied, her voice measured and composed. "I know everything I need to effectively run this program and help you all regain your full potential."
As the meeting ended, Ms. Tivali's plump figure sashayed away, leaving the group to begin their daunting task. Hermione couldn't shake the feeling that her behavior did seem rehearsed. She dismissed the thought after she realized she could possibly be coping with the fact that the only reason Ms. Tivali was even there was because of them.
.
.
Everyone's eyes were fixed on Hermione as she descended the grand staircase at the Yule Ball, feeling as if she were in a spotlight, her heart racing in her chest. At the bottom of the stairs stood Draco, his presence magnetic and irresistible, extending his hand to her with a smoldering gaze.
The fiery sensation of his long fingers gently wrapped around hers, igniting a trail of electricity up her arm. As their hands intertwined, a rush of blood surged within her, catching her off guard. His touch felt both unfamiliar and intimate, awakening a yearning she had long tried to bury. With each step they took onto the dance floor, the world around them seemed to fade, leaving only the two of them in a bubble of heightened reality.
He moved with effortless grace, his body pressing against hers in the dance, sending shivers down her spine. Every move, every twirl, seemed to draw her closer to him, erasing the boundaries she had carefully erected. The waltz they shared was more than just a dance; it was a delicate interplay of unspoken desires and magnetic pull. As the music swelled around them, Hermione found herself captivated by the intricate details she had never noticed before—the way his silver-blond hair caught the light, the curve of his lips that held a hint of a secret smile, and the intensity in his eyes that seemed to strip away the layers of pretense.
The atmosphere felt surreal, like something out of a fairy tale where reality blurred with the realm of dreams. In this moment, Hermione's heart spoke louder than her rational mind, admitting the undeniable truth she had been avoiding: the attraction she felt for Draco was no longer something she could deny or dismiss
Everyone around them vanished, and the colors drained from her once vibrant periwinkle dress, leaving it a dull, greying shade. Before her now loomed a masked figure, wearing an eerie white mask adorned with twisted vines and thorns. His presence sent shivers down her spine, and her attempts to scream were futile as he leaned forward to kiss her.
Hermione's body felt immobilized, and she clenched her eyes shut with her heart pounding. When she opened her eyes again, the man pulled back, and his face morphed into Ron's familiar features. For a brief moment, her heart swelled with comfort and relief. Ron's face melted and shifted, now resembling McLaggen's, scuffed and bruised, exactly as he had looked after his fight with Draco-except there was something sinister in his dark, wide and dilated pupils. They stared at her, unmoving, zombie-like until a crazed smirk began to curl at his lip.
Hermione jolted awake, her heart racing from the vivid dream that had just consumed her sleep. She sat up, taking a moment to steady her breath and remind herself that it was just a dream, nothing more. She glanced around the darkened dormitory, the soft glow of moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting shadows across the room. Her dream had been disorienting, starting with the Yule Ball, an event from her past, yet somehow it had taken a strange turn. The unsettling feeling remained as she tried to will herself back to sleep but she just couldn't shake the sense of dread that clung to her thoughts.
She closed her eyes, hoping to drift back to sleep and leave the unsettling visions behind, but the memory of the dream lingered. As the night went on, Hermione found herself tossing and turning, unable to find peace. The strange dance with Draco and the haunting figure of McLaggen continued to play in her mind. She kept her eyes open, her mind creating figures and shadows until her eyes dropped and she was able to capture a few more hours of sleep.
As the morning light began to filter into the dormitory, Hermione arose with a burden of exhaustion. However, she was determined to shake off the remnants of the dream and focus on the day ahead. She had Ancient Runes, some studying, detention service, and supper to attend to. The routine of the day offered some comfort, keeping her mind occupied.
During supper that evening, Hermione found herself unable to eat. The events of the dream and the memory of Ron were still fresh in her mind, making the food taste bland and unappetizing. She excused herself from the Great Hall, deciding to visit the Mirror of Erised for some solace but not before catching a glimpse of Draco watching her every move.
It had been a few weeks since she last visited the mirror, but she needed the comfort of seeing Ron's face again after the unsettling dream. The quietness of the room enveloped her as she stood before the mirror. Sadness and longing drained from her.
She saw Ron's face and smiled a sad one. "Hi, Ron." She wiped an almost fallen tear. He didn't respond. Because he wasn't real. Not anymore. He was a ghost of her past, now. The comfort she felt in the illusion of his presence was waning but she held onto it.
She spoke to him, bleeding her thoughts and feelings, even though she knew he wouldn't respond. There was comfort in the familiar face, especially since it didn't morph into McLaggen like it had in her dream.
The next few detentions passed with a surprising level of smoothness, considering the circumstances and the new addition of Ms. Tivali as their supervisor. She remained extremely professional, instructing them on their tasks with precision, but Hermione was privy to notice the occasional snarky looks that she shot their way.
Theo kept up his dense bickering with everyone, complaining that he still hadn't tapped into a unique ability from the storm. Neville stuck close to Hermione as they worked. Pansy remained nonchalant, chewing her gum with her usual air of indifference, while Blaise trailed protectively along behind her, looking even more bored and miserable.
Despite the intensity of the Quidditch practice, he seemed more focused and determined to get through the tasks efficiently. Hermione noticed that he was even more amicable towards her and the rest of the group. It was a noticeable change from his usual brooding demeanor. It was probably all an act. After all, he was Draco Malfoy.
One day of detention service that week, Ms. Tivali handed them a scroll indicating that they would essentially be giving Hagrids Hut a deep Fall cleaning. Inside, the detention crew had worked diligently, each assigned their specific tasks to maintain the place. Hermione had taken it upon herself to wash Fang in the tub, thoroughly enjoying the job as she carefully scrubbed the large dog's fur. The warm water splashed gently, and Fang seemed to enjoy the attention, letting out content growls as Hermione poured water over his body.
"Do you need any help with that?" Draco had awkwardly approached, uncertain about how to offer his assistance.
Hermione shook her head, "I've got it covered. You can start on the bathroom once I'm done with Fang if you're finished with the staircase." Draco nodded and seemed to walk away. She thought she could feel his presence lingering nearby, but thought against it.
She continued to scrub Fang's teeth, rinsing his body under the running water. She felt a sigh coming from behind and and the hairs on her neck stood on end. She sensed it was Draco and anticipated his next move. Was he about to curse her or unleash his usual sarcasm?
"I'm...glad that your penchant for always wanting to be heard and correct happened to work in my favor...for once." Draco's voice came out hesitantly.
Hermione paused, her hands stilling in mid-scrub as she let the water from the faucet rinse Fang's body. The only sounds in the room were the hounds content growling and the gushing water. Did Draco just... thank her?
What brought on the change of heart? At least he realized how impossible he'd been. She supposed if she'd gotten into a physical tuss that wasn't even his fault and no one believed her unless someone else spoke for her, she'd be cranky too.
Hermione let out an amused huff and turned off the faucet, ending Fang's bath. Grabbing a nearby towel to dry off the dog and pull him out of the tub, she stood up straight as Fang skidded right out of the bathroom. As Fang scampered away, Hermione intended to follow suit and escape the awkward gratitude. She tossed the wet towel in Dracos direction without sparing him a glance. "You ought to consider yourself lucky. It's not every day I save your hide. We're even now." she quipped, a smirk playing on her lips.
She moved towards the door to make a quick exit which was foiled by a large puddle of water Fang had left behind. In a comical twist of fate, she slipped on it just as she was passing Draco. Her arms flailed for balance and stumbled forward.
Draco caught her, his strong arms wrapping around her and pulling her close to his chest. She instinctively grabbed onto his coveralls, the fabric scrunched up between her fingers to balance herself. She'd buried her face into his neck as if she were using him to shield herself and for a moment, they were locked in an unintentional embrace. The proximity was closer than she had ever been to him. It was the first time she'd indulged in his piquant scent—mint and cedarwood. It was nice, comforting even. She mentally scolded herself for having to resist the urge to kiss his neck. Why was that a thought to begin with? Was it the heat from his body that sent a shiver down her spine? She felt her cheeks flush as the seconds seemed to stretch into eternity.
"Granger, you really do have a knack for getting yourself into trouble." It was a low and intimate whisper in her ear. The blood in her veins tingled from the back of her neck all the way down her spine to where both of Draco's hands gripped her torso in place.
Hermione's heart raced. The closeness of their bodies. His unusual sincerity.
"I-I didn't do it on purpose, Malfoy."
She pulled her head back and their eyes met for a brief moment. She couldn't explain what, but there was a hint of something in Draco's gaze.
"Well, well, am I interrupting something?" Theo sauntered into the restroom with a devilish grin. "Looks like you two are having a bit of a moment." He stood at the door way with his arms akimbo.
Draco cleared his throat and quickly released her. She stumbled back, regaining her balance, and tried to ignore the lingering of his fingers on her.
"Theo." Draco grumbled. "What are you doing here? You need something?" He raised an eyebrow, his annoyance evident.
"Nott has a knot and needs to use the Loo. " Theo's grin widened and rubbed his belly like Santa Clause would. "I've got to take a massive shite! I wanted to use Hagrids bed, leave 'em a good ole treat, but then I heard you two dilly dallying and thought it was a sign from Merlin to do the right thing."
Hermione and Draco had no response. There was nothing to say, was there?
Granger, you hear me?
Hermione bowed her head subtly. It was Draco's voice, but his lips hadn't moved a bit.
He talks about himself in the third person and refers to his bowels as knots-he'll think he's the cleverest, won't he? He's really just a prick.
Hermione chuckled inwardly, hearing Draco's very deliberate thoughts. They both stepped out and Theo brushed by them, shutting the door behind him. They couldn't contain their giggles.
"Your Occlumency skills are impressive. I can only hear what you want me to." Hermione rarely heard Draco's thoughts. There were very minor moments when his defenses slipped, but he was the only person whose thoughts remained quiet. It was almost relieving not to hear someone's thoughts about her constantly. "I was never very good at it."
"You not good at something?" Draco averted his eyes before looking back up at Hermione. "That's a first." He attempted to add wit and levity as he hesitated to say more. It appeared like he was thinking something over, his gaze flickering between both of her eyes."It wasn't easy to learn. Snape trained me. It was painful fighting off his highly proficient Legilimency during our sessions."
"Isn't that illegal?"
Draco nodded. He sighed as if he'd just been defeated during a game of Gobstones.
"It was during the war. I had to use it- a survival tactic." Draco began, his hand absently rubbing the back of his neck. "Voldem- He searched my mind-without warning most of the time. Father was plotting to send me and mother away for safety. Had the Dark Lord gotten a glimpse of that meeting..." He trailed off and offered a shrug, trying to alleviate the tension that had settled in the room. Despite his composed demeanor, it was clear that discussing this topic was uncomfortable for him. "It's almost instinct to shut the doors on my mind."
Hermione felt a deep sense of gratitude that Draco was opening up to her, even if the memories were undoubtedly difficult and tinged with privilege from his perspective. Regardless, it was a period in his life marked by immense distress. Many, including herself, had labeled him a coward, but now, hearing his perspective and the silent suffering he endured, along with the guilt and shame that accompanied his choices, Hermione began to see that perhaps he believed he was doing what he deemed necessary. Maybe, in his mind, everything he did and the decisions he made were justifiable, driven by self-preservation and the well-being of his parents.
This realization didn't excuse the atrocities and lasting wounds inflicted as a result of his actions and those of others like him. As she listened, a familiar cocktail of anger and resentment began to bubble up within her, threatening to consume her once more. But then, with a jolt, she remembered that she had done the same things.
She was no different now, entangled in a web of death, concealing corpses, and being complicit in murder, all while deceiving the authorities. The weight of her own choices bore down on her, making her feel like a hypocrite for harboring judgment against Draco when they had both traveled down this dark path.
"I don't expect sympathy or anything. I know terrible things happened and I allowed it," Draco admitted, his eyes now cast downward toward his boots. He was visibly tense, his shoulders slightly hunched. "Anyway, that's why you can't read my mind."
"It was a difficult time for us all. I understand why you do it." Hermione responded with a kind smile.
He glanced at her, and for a fleeting moment, his usually steely gray eyes softened. "It's not like you need to pry into my mind anyway." He casually shrugged.
She lightly slapped his arm, her touch gentle yet reassuring. Draco leaned in closer, his voice lowering to an intimate whisper. "You should know, Granger, there are some things in my mind even you wouldn't want to see."
Her cheeks flushed again, a slight smile tugging at the corner of her lips, and cleared her throat. "Point taken, Malfoy."
"If you two are looking to have a passionate, lust-hate rendezvous, you know Hagrid's room is all yours. Just keep it down and clean up afterward. I can keep a secret!" It was none other than Theo's voice from behind the closed bathroom door.
Draco scowled, his brow furrowing, while Hermione's cheeks turned a shade darker.
"He's foul," Draco muttered, he tensed once more as he leaned away from Hermione. "Probably why he's the only one with no ability."
"Oi! I heard that!" Theo's voice carried a mock indignation from behind the door. "Mark my words, when I find out my power, you'll be bloody jealous of all the fit chavs I'll get!"
The following days were filled with suppressed stress brought on by questioning from Auror Williamson. The process was surprisingly brief but nerve-wracking. Each of them were asked a few questions, and then they were dismissed. Hermione couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to the investigation. Even though they'd all agreed to tell similar stories, she waited by her dormitory doors nightly, half expecting a barrage of Aurors and school faculty to apprehend her and throw her into Azkaban.
The rest of the week went by in a blur of classes and detentions, but each evening, she found herself returning to the Mirror of Erised. She was driven by complete fear and almost refused to return when one night she was met with a silver platter filled with food from the kitchens. She was certain she'd been caught, and McGonagall was sure to extend her detention sentence for the entirety of the year. Two nights had flown by when she hadn't visited, and nothing came of it. She wasn't approached by the headmistress, Severus, or Tivali.
She decided she'd be extra cautious when traveling the corridors to the Mirror of Erised.
At first, she thought someone might be playing tricks on her, or perhaps it was one of the castle's ghosts. The plate of supper was once again waiting for her when she arrived. The food didn't seem poisoned, and she found comfort in the gesture, even though she couldn't explain its origin.
As the days passed, Hermione continued to find the plates of supper. She didn't have to starve for choosing Ron over her meal, and she was silently grateful as she chewed on a spoonful of shepherd's pie and watched Ron at the Burrow, his family enjoying a feast at the dinner table and Ron, predictably, stuffing his face.
It was again, bittersweet, and her heart pounded with fatigue in her chest. None of it was real.
.
.
Hermione listened intently as Ms. Tivali gathered the group into the detention room. Blaise was again the last one to trickle in, giving Hermione a sense of Dejavu from her first day. The Castle Keepers expression was stern, yet there was an undeniable determination in her eyes. She wondered what was so important that couldn't have been a message on a scroll.
As they all stood there with their attention fixed, Ms. Tivali began to divulge. "I trust you all understand the gravity of your situation," Her gaze furtively swept over the assembled students. Hermione noticed that her eyes lingered on the Slytherins for a moment longer. "Our world has been shaken, torn apart by the war. Our magical society must rebuild, and that starts with understanding and accepting one another."
Hermione was curious as to where was going with this. She was beginning to like her and her motives which initially she was suspicious of. It wasn't lost on her that she, too, had biases to overcome, despite her best efforts to be open-minded. She exchanged a knowing glance with Neville, who appeared equally thoughtful.
"To better acclimate you to the concept of normalizing the existence of Muggles and to foster empathy for those who are not like us, we've arranged for you to participate in a unique endeavor," Ms. Tivali explained, her intent clear. "Two days a week during detention service, you all will be spending a considerable amount of time at a community center in the Muggle world, engaging in hands-on work and interacting with Muggles on a regular basis. These experiences will be invaluable in helping you accept your Muggle-born peers and Squibs as equals, recognizing that they are still human despite their non-magical heritage."
Hermione saw each and every Slytherin roll their eyes, suck their teeth, and fidget. They were obviously uncomfortable and annoyed that they truly had no other choice. Hermione loved the idea and found herself not completely hating the program. Being in the muggle world would be a nice change, too. She missed her parents whom were still recovering from their obliviated memories. She hadn't been able to see them much without confusing them or scaring them, so being around muggles, much like parents, would be a comforting task.
Ms. Tivali proceeded to relay that they would have a probation worker named Sally who would administer duties to them at the community center. The muggles at the community center would be under the impression that they were a group of young delinquent offenders under the Anti-Social Behavior Order completing community service hours. It was a simple and believable cover story. With her explanation complete, Ms. Tivali ushered them a Portkey that would transport them to the community center somewhere in Southeast London.
As Hermione and the others gripped the Portkey, the familiar sensation of being pulled and twisted through time and space overtook her. It was a disorienting journey. When they landed on the other side, Hermione staggered slightly. Her coverall uniform was rumpled but she quickly adjusted it.
Taking in her surroundings, she found herself amidst a stark landscape of modern brutalist buildings that seemed to stretch endlessly into the sky. Their imposing concrete forms dominated the skyline, creating a striking contrast to the lush greenery of Southmere Lake. The community center was conveniently situated just steps away from the walkway entrance, offering a picturesque view of the serene lake.
Hermione was intrigued by the stark beauty of the place. The combination of contemporary architecture and the natural landscape created a unique ambiance that felt both urban and tranquil. It was worlds away from the leafy suburbia she was raised in and especially from the magical realm she was accustomed to.
Arriving at the community center, Hermione sensed some awkwardness from the Slytherin crew as they observed the muggles going about their daily lives, some passing while walking their dogs, others jogging, or having a normal stroll by the water front. The unfamiliar surroundings and the presence of so many non-magical people left them feeling somewhat out of place. It was ironic watching from the other side, seeing as this was her lived experience since her first day at Hogwarts.
Hermione took it upon herself to lead them into the community center. She stepped forward and greeted the front desk, trying to put everyone at ease. She exchanged polite nods and smiles, making a conscious effort to blend in-which her wizard peers were not trying to do. Neville was the only one smiling with unwavering optimism.
A kind-hearted muggle lady in her early thirties with long hair, freckles, and a slim but tall frame, appeared and introduced herself with a warm smile.
"You must be lot." She motioned her arms light as a feather in an open and directive manner. "Welcome to our community center. You can call me Sally. I'll be your probation worker."
"I'm Hermione." She turned to the others going down the line. "Neville, Draco, Pansy, Blaise, and Theo. We're well aware of our ASBO terms and looking forward to assisting as best we can."
Sally nodded, her tiny round eyes flicking over their uniforms.
Uncanny choice of color for their probation garments. Was that approved in the terms of their ASBO? I'll need to have a word with Tivali.
Hermione could hear Sally's thoughts crisp, clear, with a tinge of judgement. But she realized that they already stood out and any indication of that would be grounds for the Slytherin quartet to lose it. In the muggle world, most offenders on probation wore orange coveralls to be easily identifiable in public. Theirs was black and instead of an ankle monitoring device, they had odd magical silver bracelets.
Sally gave them a brief tour of the building. The community center, while striving to be a beacon of hope, struggled to shake off an air of dullness and emptiness that clung to its aging interior. It was clear that despite its best efforts, resources were limited, and the wear and tear of time had taken its toll.
The information desk at the center appeared forlorn, with outdated brochures and faded posters hinting at a past attempt to revitalize the space. A lone volunteer, his smile genuine but weary, manned the desk. Potted plants that had seen better days sat neglected, their leaves drooping in surrender.
The main gathering area, though spacious, had an air of desolation. Dim, flickering fluorescent lights cast a pale and sterile glow on scuffed linoleum floors. The ceiling tiles, stained and discolored, hinted at a long-neglected maintenance schedule. Large, dusty windows let in sparse, filtered sunlight that struggled to reach the corners of the room.
Threadbare, mismatched furniture were scattered haphazardly, giving the impression of a space pieced together from forgotten remnants. Worn-out couches sagged under the weight of years of use, their once-vibrant colors now faded and muted. A few chipped and wobbly tables were pushed against the walls, each bearing the scars of countless spills and accidents.
The bathroom and changing rooms within the community center mirrored the overall ambiance of the facility—just functional enough. It was a stark contrast to the magical, romanesque gothic revivalist beauty of the disused changing room and restrooms they were assigned for the detention program. The community center changing rooms bore a row of wooden benches lined one one wall, their varnish showing signs of chipping and wear. Rows of rusty metal lockers, each marked with dents and scratches from years of use, stood against the opposite wall, providing a place for visitors to store their belongings. The benches were modestly padded but had long lost their original plushness.
The stalls in the bathroom were enclosed in powder coated steel doors. They bore the scars and dents of many a bump and scrape. The sinks, though functional, had taps that occasionally dripped, and the paper towel dispenser had seen better days, likely requiring an extra pull to release a single sheet.
Sally looped and guided them to the final area which was the multipurpose room. With its aging stage and dim lighting, it struggled to accommodate the needs of the community. The faded mural on one wall, while a testament to past efforts, had lost its luster over the years. The space was a constant reminder of the center's attempts to be a vibrant hub, even as it struggled to draw a crowd.
"Today's mission is to sort through donation boxes filled with clothes," Sally smiled warmly and clasped her hands. "We have eight large boxes, each containing a hodgepodge of garments donated by members of the public. Your job is to sort them before we ship them out to Colombia."
"Just another day in paradise." Pansy wasted no time in revealing her snark.
"I'm sure the people receiving these items will be really grateful for all our hard work." Hermione smiled diplomatically. It would be terrible to start off on the wrong foot with their new probation worker, especially in the muggle world.
"They should be," Pansy smacked her gum. "They're getting a whole new wardrobe."
Blaise chuckled at Pansy's audacity. Hermione exhaled the impatience from her body. But she observed something unusual—the subtle shift in dynamics between Pansy and Blaise, that left her intrigued. They'd gotten closer. It was evident in their body language. He was protective, of course due to the nature of threat her ability from the storm left her with. She dismissed the thought, shaking her head to clear it.
The probation worker inhaled, wasting no time in asserting her purpose. She stepped in to provide further instructions. "You need to categorize and label everything: children's clothes, shoes, women's bellbottoms, men's, and so on. If you need to create a new category, feel free to do so. I understand each of you are at the age of majority so, no alcoholic beverages during service. I've been doing this for over 10 years so yes, I unfortunately have to make that very obvious but not so obvious disclaimer." She placed a hand at her hip. "Any questions?"
Theo, with his usual enthusiasm, shot his hand up as if he were about to answer a straightforward Arithmancy question. Sally nodded towards Theo, expecting a reasonable question. If only she were aware of his boundedness to deliver unconventional, non-serious remarks like the child he is. Hermione exchanged a knowing look with Neville and Draco.
"You all have bears and sharks, yeah? If they got into a fight, who do you think would win?"
Sally blinked a couple of times, her response delayed. Hermione could see the probation worker quickly processing Theo's penchant for being and idiot.
"If you've got any relevant questions, just ask." The cheeky probation worker clasped her hands and started her exit but paused as a thought ran through her head. "Oh, and if it's on dry land, my bet's on the bear."
With that Sally excused herself, leaving Theo to unabashedly ogle her while she walked away.
I would, wouldn't I? I can't believe I'm thinking about shagging a muggle!
Hermione inwardly groaned at the inopportune intrusion of Theo's thoughts.
"You're despicable beyond words." Hermione didn't bother to look as she reached down, grabbed a piece of clothing, and launched it at Theo.
"Hermione!" Neville's exclamation was filled with confusion.
Theo appeared perplexed but not particularly perturbed, his primary concern seemingly figuring out what he had done wrong. Draco, with a teasing tone, chose to address the situation.
"I'm guessing she heard your thoughts while you were sizing up the Muggle girl. Isn't that right, Granger?" Draco's playful tone danced in the air.
Hermione's cheeks flushed, and she nodded in confirmation.
"Hey, hey, hold on a second," Theo interrupted, finally piecing it all together. "Is that why you threw a little tantrum and hit me with the sponge the day Filch went all 'lion-in-the-jungle' on us?"
"You're just figuring that out now?" Neville teased, coming to Hermione's defense.
Theo, now realizing the truth of the situation, appeared slightly puzzled but ultimately unfazed.
"What'd you hear, anyway?" Draco's curiosity was unmistakable.
"'Draco was being too coy. She is proper fit under all those robes. Wonder who'd have a chance at shagging the Mudblood first.' " Hermione quoted, having every word memorized.
Hermione stole a quick glance at Draco to gauge his reaction. A subtle shade of pink crept across the platinum haired Slytherins cheeks, unnoticed by everyone except for her. Only jealousy and annoyance was what she could use to describe the flickering in his narrowed eyes toward Theo. "I thought it was only your mouth that lacked self-control." Draco muttered.
Hermione felt a flutter of satisfaction at Draco's reaction, although she quickly buried it beneath her usual composure.
"Hey, hey, those were my thoughts." Theo, seizing the opportunity to divert the conversation, interjected with a mischievous grin. "You can't just blab around very private, intimate information!"
"Private and intimate are the same thing, idiot." Pansy laughed at Theo's deflection, tossing a pair of boxer shorts at him.
With the tension diffused, a playful clothing fight erupted, garments flying in all directions like confetti at a magical celebration. Hermione found herself struck by a baby bib, her disbelief evident on her face. She quickly deduced that Draco was the instigator, a conclusion supported by the amused look he shot her.
In retaliation, Hermione playfully shoved Draco, causing him to tumble headfirst into a mountain of clothes. Laughter bubbled from their group as they watched him struggle to emerge, his face buried beneath a pile of fabric. Neville joined in, gleefully lobbing a few clothing items at Blaise, who expertly dodged them with a grin, although he missed and accidentally hit Pansy with a onesie covered in cartoonish puppies and kittens.
Pansy, never one to back down from a challenge, took the onesie pajamas and comically attempted to slide it up her coveralls, earning more laughter as it barely made it past her thighs.
Hermione, who was thoroughly enjoying herself amidst the Slytherins she often tried to convince herself she disliked, felt a strong tug on her arm. For a split second, she couldn't believe what was happening until she found herself tumbling atop a very mischievous Draco. He had slyly pulled her down onto the ground in his own plot of revenge for her earlier shove.
As Hermione tried to stuff a pair of socks into Draco's mouth, he wasn't about to let her have the upper hand. With a swift, surprising move, he grabbed her wrists and managed to roll her over, pinning her beneath him. They locked eyes, faces mere inches apart. Her heart pounded, her breath quickened, and she felt a heat rising within her that had nothing to do with the playful scuffle. In that moment, the scuffed state of his hair and the low, almost primal groan that escaped his lips, she wondered what it would be like under him in a different scenario altogether.
Hermione's forced herself to disrupt the intense tableau. She lightly kicked Draco, throwing off his balance. As his resolve wavered, she regained the upper hand, rolling atop him once more. Their bodies pressed together anew, and a swarm of emotions and sensations engulfed her as Draco maintained his grip on her waist, preventing her from toppling over too aggressively. Her arms came down on either side of his head, her palms connecting with the cool linoleum floors. Beneath her, she could feel the warmth radiating from Draco's body, the subtle rise and fall of his chest mirroring her own.
In the haze of the moment, she wondered what would happen if she closed the scant distance between their lips, if she leaned in and pressed herself further. Would he gasp against her neck in response? Or would he recoil in disgust? These thoughts were dangerous, and she needed to purge them immediately, especially when she noticed the darkness clouding Draco's eyes. Was it anger? Repulsion? She snapped back to reality and their surroundings, her gaze swiftly shifting upwards.
Without hesitation, she snatched a nearby box, still brimming with clothes, and unleashed its contents over him. The cascade of donations buried Draco beneath a fabric avalanche. Laughter erupted once more as he struggled beneath the playful deluge, emerging with a mock scowl and shaking his head to rid himself of the clothes.
As the laughter and playful antics began to die down, they gradually returned to their sorting duties. Garments were sorted into neat piles, with the occasional toss of an item or playful teasing keeping the atmosphere lively.
Theo felt compelled to spice things up as the noise around him died down. He scrambled onto the stage, sending a cloud of dust into the air. His face was set in a fierce concentration as he fixed his gaze on a box of clothes that was overflowing with colorful fabrics. He stretched out his arm, his palm wide open, as if he were trying to catch a golden snitch. He grunted and groaned, putting all his strength into his gesture, while his veins bulged on his forehead.
Was he trying to…summon the box?
Hermione rolled her eyes at Theo's theatrics, while Neville and Blaise stared at him with disbelief. Pansy and Draco, on the other hand, watched him with amusement and indifference.
Draco snatched an apron from Hermione's hand with a smirk. He was in a rare playful mood today, and Hermione secretly enjoyed the friendly banter.
"What are you doing, mate?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Shut up!" Theo snapped, as if Draco had insulted him. "Maybe if I practice enough, my ability will show up. I think it just needs time to develop, you know, like that annoying cunt."
"You mean you?" Pansy laughed, chewing her gum loudly.
"No! Everyone knows annoying cunts are only glorified by Muggles." Theo said with a cheeky grin.
Hermione snorted in amusement. Voldemort was the most glorified by some of the worst witches and wizards. "Do you really want to go there?"
"Alright, no need to get touchy!" Theo said, raising his hands defensively. "Most annoying cunts are glorified by Muggles."
Theo amended his statement as if it made any difference. He was such an idiot and she was glad he had no ability whatsoever. She decided to ignore him and let him live in his own fantasy world.
"Th-That's not nice to say. We-we're in the Muggle world." Neville said, trying to calm things down.
Sure, I can help you with that. Here is a possible rewrite of your excerpt, with some changes in the dialogue and narration to make it more engaging:
Theo, however, was oblivious to Neville's scowl. "C'mon, you really don't know? It's BONO!" He jumped off the table, his eyes sparkling with excitement.
Hermione burst into laughter at the ridiculousness of it all. She was genuinely baffled by how Theo even knew about Bono.
Blaise, looking bored, tossed a pair of sunglasses to the side. "Who the fuck is that?"
"He's a muggle Irish singer, and I'm dying to know how you even heard of him." Hermione said, getting up to label a pile of accessories she had sorted and picking up the sunglasses Blaise had discarded.
"I don't," Theo admitted, pointing to a wall plastered with old newsletters, posters, and help-wanted notices. "But look at him. Doesn't he look like he'd be a total cunt?"
They all turned their heads to a pastel violet-bordered poster Theo had indicated. It had 'U2' on the top left, a photo of a pale, sweaty man holding a microphone in a stadium, and in the bottom right corner, the name 'BONO' was written.
"This is bollocks." Pansy announced, getting to her feet. "I need to use the loo." She glanced at Blaise, who had also been sitting and sorting through clothes. "Are you coming to help me find it or not?"
Blaise didn't waste any time and followed Pansy with a sly grin, leaving Hermione and Neville to exchange glances.
Neville walked over to Hermione, curiosity written all over his face. "Are those two…?"
"I think he's just making sure she's safe." Hermione whispered with a casual shrug, genuinely clueless about the nature of Pansy and Blaise's relationship. She and Pansy rarely spoke to each other, and she didn't expect Blaise to confide in her.
"Granger." Draco's voice cut through their conversation, drawing Hermione's attention.
She turned to see Draco holding a pack of hair ties, and before she could react, he tossed them in her direction, catching her off guard. "Sort that for me, will you?"
She huffed and feigned annoyance.
.
.
As Draco strolled up to Hermione, his brooding confidence on full display, he casually snatched the clipboard from her hand. She had taken it upon herself to create an itemized list of the various piles of to-be-donated items.
"Let's see what you've got here, Granger," Draco remarked with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He scanned her meticulous list, leaning in just a little too close for comfort, their shoulders brushing. Hermione watched Draco from under her lashes while he read her work. The light indent between his brows, his lips puckered in thought-it was almost, almost mesmerizing. She could even feel his mint flavored breath tickle her senses. She swallowed hard, trying to maintain her composure. He was unbearably childish.
"Oi, Bernie when's lunch around here?" Theo stretched his entire body like a starfish with a rather rebarbative yawn.
Hermione retracted her eyes to avoid anyone realizing shed been secretly admiring Draco and turned to the source of the question. She thought her hearing may have been muddled because she couldn't understand to whom Theo directed his question toward despite him looking directly at Neville.
Neville slowly scanned the room to make sure he too wasn't hearing things. "Who's Bernie?"
"You of course!" Theo scrunched his face, laughing as if the answer were that obvious.
"His names Neville." Hermione clarified harshly. How long had they been attending Hogwarts? Surely he was playing a joke. Draco snickered and Hermione shot him a warning look.
Granger, I told you he was a prick.
Draco's amused thoughts consciously hit her. He did tell her that. He wasn't wrong but Theo never failed to surprise her. And she wondered how Draco, Pansy, and Blaise dealt with him all this time. It's like they were immune to him.
"Ahhhh, you're taking the piss out of me!" Theo tickled Neville who bounced back away from him awkwardly. "You're Bernie Longbutter-bottom, whatever, we've been wizard mates for years! How could I not know you?"
Before Hermione or Neville could fathom how to respond to Theo, the side doors of the multipurpose room swung open, and Blaise stormed in, his appearance disheveled and his demeanor seething with frustration. His coveralls hung half-undone, revealing a black tank top that clung to his chiseled ebony arms and chest, making him appear even more imposing. The upper part of the jumpsuit dangled around his waist, emphasizing his rugged, untamed look.
"Oh man, oh man!" Blaise exclaimed in sheer frustration, tugging at his head. "This is all wrong!"
The group exchanged worried glances, their concern growing as they took in Blaise's agitated state.
"Don't freak out!" Pansy's voice echoed as she swiftly appeared through the same doors, trailing behind him. Her own coveralls were unzipped, and Hermione couldn't help but notice a glimpse of an onyx-colored bra, adding to the air of tension in the room.
"You can't be doing that to people!" Blaise turned to face Pansy, his typically low voice seething with anger.
"Trust me, you enjoyed it!" Pansy retorted, her sly grin not entirely masking the unease in her eyes.
"That wasn't me!" Blaise pointed a finger at his own chest to emphasize, his breathing heavy and erratic.
Pansy appeared taken aback, almost offended. "But you were so up for it. You kept telling me how much you wanted to be with me!"
"When I want to tell you something, I'll tell you myself." Blaise stepped closer, invading Pansy's personal space, his nostrils flaring as he exhaled the anxious air.
Hermione glanced at Draco, who exchanged a knowing look with her.
Granger, you hear me again? This might get ugly. I think she may have used her power on him.
"I see how you look at me," Pansy's voice quivered with a mixture of anger and hurt as she fought back tears. "And how jealous you get when blokes get near me!"
"Yeah?" Blaise laughed disbelievingly as he started pulling his coveralls over his arms and zipping them up. "That's 'cause I don't want them hurting you. But you know what? I won't be looking at you anymore."
"Yes you will!" Pansy's voice took on a stubborn, almost childish tone.
Blaise had started to turn to leave but paused immediately at Pansy's response. "You think because you're beautiful, you can treat people any way you want?"
Pansy quickly wiped away a few fallen tears and puffed her chest forward defiantly. "Yeah, that's pretty much how it works, haven't you figured that out yet?"
Blaise looked Pansy up and down in disgust. "You're so messed up, Pans. You don't even know it." He turned to Theo and Neville, washing his hands of the situation. "You can take care of that, yeah? I'm done with her."
Pansy's face became a swirling storm of emotions as she stomped her foot in frustration, clearly determined to follow Blaise, who had chosen invisibility as his escape route. The backdoor exit swung wide open, a clear sign of Blaise's hurried departure. However, Draco, with a subtle yet commanding gesture, signaled for Pansy to halt. With a conflicted expression, he followed in the footsteps of his distraught friend, leaving Pansy behind with a shattered look on her face.
"There's nothing wrong with me! You're the one with the problem!" Hermione heard the echo of hurt and dejection in Pansy's last words as she zipped the front of her coveralls and started toward the main entrance.
Hermione considered following Pansy. Her mind was torn between wanting to offer support and minding the business that accepts her. She wasn't sure if it would be appropriate, given their history and Pansy's clear dislike for her. But an odd sense of inspiration washed over her, spurred on by Draco's actions moments earlier. Taking a deep breath, she made her decision and decided to follow Pansy.
Hermione ventured outside, her steps tentative as she surveyed the surroundings of the community center. The crisp evening air brushed against her skin, carrying with it the scent of fallen leaves and distant laughter. It didn't take long for her keen eyes to spot Pansy nestled around the side of the building. There, she sat on the cold ground, her back leaning against the center's weathered brick wall. Pansy's legs were drawn up to her chest, her posture a fortress of vulnerability. Faint traces of tear stains glistened on her cheeks, but she valiantly attempted to conceal the evidence of her distress.
Approaching with caution, Hermione hesitated for a brief moment, fully aware of Pansy's typically razor-sharp tongue. She braced herself for a possible caustic retort but inhaled deeply, resolute in her determination to offer solace. Quietly, she positioned herself beside Pansy, her own back finding support against the rough texture of the wall.
"If you're here to lecture me on abstinence, you can fuck right off." Pansy flicked a rock somewhere on the cement.
Hermione, however, remained composed. "Have I ever lectured you on abstinence?"
Pansy shook her head, her face hidden within the sanctuary of her knees, seeking refuge from the world.
"Are you... okay?" Hermione inquired gently.
"I'm over the fucking moon." Pansy retorted, her acrimony radiating through her words.
Hermione had expected that response and felt a pang of remorse for her poorly worded question. "I..." She gazed at the twilight sky, her thoughts drifting to the recent altercation between Pansy and Blaise. "I was just worried about you. It got intense between you two."
"Why do you even care?"
"I don't see anyone else rushing to check on you."
Did she truly care, Hermione wondered? Not about Pansy specifically, she reasoned, but there was a wellspring of empathy within her. Many times she had been alone and in pain, silently wishing for someone to extend a comforting hand.
Pansy rolled her eyes but remained silent.
"You and Blaise seemed close." Hermione observed, endeavoring to slice through the awkwardness.
"We are—" Pansy sighed, letting her legs stretch out in front of her. "He's always been there for me. And ever since that storm, I've had my share of dalliances... and a few mishaps. Now, no boy at school can come within six feet of me because of him."
"He obviously cares deeply for you."
"He never leaves me alone, even walking me to my dormitory every night." She fiddled with the silver detention bracelet adorning her wrist. "And today yeah, we were in the changing rooms just chatting. One thing led to another, and our lips were so close. He tried to stop us because of my powers. Mentioned something about wanting it to be 'genuine and in the moment' bollocks."
"So, you two didn't...?"
"Fuck?" Pansy teased, chuckling when Hermione winced. "We did. He was all over me. I thought that's what he wanted too."
A heavy silence descended once more. Pansy's foot tapped rhythmically as she pondered. "Do you think it was his way of telling me he wanted a friends with benefits arrangement?"
Hermione didn't respond immediately. She meticulously pieced together the puzzle of their situation. The information she had gathered did not point to Blaise desiring a commitment-free intimacy; if anything, he seemed to yearn for a deeper connection. He didn't appear to deny his attraction to Pansy either. In fact, he appeared wounded.
"How was he after you two stopped?"
"He flipped like a page in a bloody book. I don't understand." Pansy pressed her palms against her eyes, fighting back tears threatening to escape. "He said so many beautiful things to me; I felt so loved and desired by the one decent bloke I've fancied for years."
Hermione pondered the unusual dynamics of their situation. She recalled the trance-like states that both Neville and Theo had experienced when she had first discovered her uncanny ability. "I think your power is like a love potion. Your touch is the love potion. And... once it wears off, they have no recollection of anything. How they felt, what they did, what they said. They're not themselves."
Pansy's face went through various stages of panic. "This is... I can't believe it. Why is this happening to me?" She ran her fingers through her short hair, searching for an outlet to channel her shame. "It used to be a good thing, you know? People wanting me— it felt nice. Now it's shite. I don't know if someone actually wants me or it's just this curse."
"Sometimes, being beautiful can be a curse," Hermione mused, turning to look at Pansy. "People often struggle to see beyond appearances."
"Yeah, well, you make it look easy." A solitary tear escaped Pansy's eye, which she quickly blinked away.
Hermione's brows knitted together in confusion. Pansy's statement caught her off guard. Why would Pansy think she made being beautiful look easy? She felt far from it.
Does she even know? What's the point of being a fucking know-it-all. Pretty, good marks, famous, powerful friends, two Sacred 28 lads in a trance over her. All that pureblood rubbish but she gets it all? It's like I've been living a lie. Feels like shite.
Pansy's inner thought were just as, if not more, blunt and crass. Yet, beneath the layers of frustration and resentment, Hermione sensed a glimmer of acceptance. However, she was mistaken. Ron was a Sacred 28 member and Viktor wasn't. Although, the Krum family line was likely more more magical than muggle.
"I messed up, didn't I?" Pansy's head drooped back against the wall, a gesture of defeat.
"Not entirely," Hermione replied. "I mean, Blaise might feel violated, so it's crucial that you talk to him."
"I doubt he wants to hear a word from me."
"Well, eventually. And when he's ready, be honest. Share your feelings, your thoughts, let him know you truly care about him. It might not be an instant fix, but it's a start."
The short-haired Slytherin nodded, genuinely processing Hermione's advice.
"And try not to use your power on him. I don't think you need to. Something tells me he's already there with you."
"Do you really think so?" Pansy leaned in, her curiosity momentarily overpowering her previous defenses.
"Absolutely." Hermione nodded earnestly. Although she and Pansy had never truly seen eye to eye, in that moment, she found herself gaining a newfound appreciation for the young Slytherin. There were facets of Pansy that resonated with Hermione. In an odd way, Hermione even harbored a tinge of envy for Pansy's life. She had been chosen as Draco's Yule Ball partner from among all the eligible pureblood girls, a distinction that felt unattainable for Hermione due to her Muggle-born status. Even though Hermione had shone brightly with Victor Krum, she knew that Draco would have never considered her because of her blood status."Your wit is unmatched, your hair is always eerily impeccable, your loyalty unwavering—"
"Alright, Granger, I'm not trying to get into your pants." Pansy poked.
"You're not exactly my type." Hermione retorted.
Pansy's jaw dropped in disbelief, her green eyes wide with surprise.
"You're alright for a Gryffindor." She admitted, her tone holding a hint of grudging respect.
Despite the Slytherin's usual defensive demeanor they had succeeded in having a remarkably candid conversation. An unspoken understanding lingered in the air, and a mutual silence settled between them. It stretched on for a while longer, until they both recognized that it was time to resume their tasks for Sally.
The atmosphere had grown awkward as they worked. It was as if four of them were unintentionally third-wheeling in the midst of a dispute. After completing their duties, they used the Portkey to return to Hogwarts and now found themselves within the confines of the old, disused restrooms and changing rooms.
Mrs. Norris appeared around the partition of lockers, catching Theo's attention. He happily scooped her up, a peculiar sight that raised Hermione's curiosity. Mrs. Norris had seemingly disappeared after Filch's unfortunate incident, but Hermione understood that animals had their own ways. She suspected that Mrs. Norris had gone off to mourn or search for Filch, only to return when she couldn't find him. She felt sad for the unknowing animal.
As the rest of the group began changing back into their regular Hogwarts uniforms, Hermione and Draco remained behind.
"Blaise was really angry, but he'll come around." Draco commented.
"Yes," Hermione agreed, "I'm confident they'll manage to resolve their differences."
Draco chuckled softly. "Who would've thought."
"What?" Hermione raised an eyebrow, curious about his amusement.
"It's usually us going to war like that," Draco explained with a smirk. "Kind of nice being on the other side, while you do the usual meddling."
"Usual meddling?" Hermione scoffed playfully.
"It's not always a bad thing, Granger-"
Draco's voice trailed off abruptly as he opened his locker, his eyes locking onto something unexpected within.
"Malfoy?" Hermione's concern was evident as she watched Draco's brow furrow, his mouth slightly ajar.
Unable to find his voice immediately, Draco retrieved a folded note from his locker, his eyes filled with apprehension as he read its contents. "I know what you did."
Hermione felt an overwhelming urge to clear her ears, as if the cryptic message she had just read needed a second pass to fully register. She leaned in over Draco's shoulder, peering at the note herself. The message remained shrouded in mystery, its handwriting oddly familiar, its red ink forming unique curves in the "I's" and "o's." Hermione's unease deepened as she strained to recall where she had seen this handwriting before.
Theo, Blaise, Neville, and Pansy emerged from the other side of the changing room, having reverted to their Hogwarts uniforms.
"Somebody knows." Draco muttered, holding up the disturbing message.
"Knows what?" Pansy asked, settling onto the bench beside Theo, who cradled Mrs. Norris in his lap.
"Who we killed." Draco responded, gesturing as though the answer were glaringly obvious, which it was.
A collective unease settled over the group, freezing them in place. Their expressions ranged from shock to concern, except for Theo, who couldn't suppress a snort at the dramatic revelation. He squeezed Mrs. Norris affectionately, as if seeking comfort from her.
"Is this a wind-up?" Blaise moved quickly to snatch the note from Draco's trembling hand. "Was this you?" He directed his question at Theo, who was clearly the resident prankster.
"If I was trying to wind you up, I think I'd be a little more creative." Theo scoffed.
"This isn't funny." Hermione's patience wore thin. If this was a little prank on Theo's behalf, no one would be able to stop her from hitting him with the Slugulus Erecto charm. She'd go as far as to amend the spell so that he'd be vomiting slugs for weeks.
"If I wanted to freak you out, I would've dug up the dead bodies, painted them neon green, and waltzed with them in a tutu before sticking that in your locker." Theo retorted with irreverence, waving a hands dramatically and maintaining a deadpan expression.
"If it wasn't him, then who was it?" Neville's voice trembled slightly.
"We've all done things," Theo remarked casually, swatting a dismissive hand through the air. "They could be referring to anything-ow!" Mrs. Norris suddenly leaped from Theo's lap and scurried away, her rapid movement likely from being startled by Theo's boorish sonority. He lifted his finger, which had started to trickle blood, indicating that he had been bitten. "That little bastard!"
"It was in your locker." Pansy pointed to Draco, her tone weary.
"This was meant for all of us," Draco asserted, taking back the note from Blaise's hand. He addressed the group with determination. "They're talking about Filch!"
A familiar ghost of fear engulfed Hermione, prickling her skin like a swarm of invisible insects. Her thoughts raced, considering the implications of the ominous message. Was it tied to their recent actions, or was it something entirely different?
"Alright, alright, let's suppose you're right," Theo interjected, straightening up and adopting a tone that was simultaneously obnoxious and comforting. "If they actually knew anything, they wouldn't be dicking around sticking notes on lockers. They would've Floo-called the Aurors, and we'd all be banged up in Azkaban getting soul-fucked by Dementors by now!"
Hermione exchanged an exasperated look with Draco, their shared skepticism evident in their expressions. Nevertheless, their attention remained on Theo, who had inched closer to Draco.
"But this, this means that they have no evidence. No proof. Nothing," Theo continued, his tone now serious. "And anyway, I'm guessing it's about some other totally unrelated shit that you've done—considering you've got quite a roster." He attempted to tickle Draco's armpit, but Draco swatted his hand away, irritation bubbling up.
"Enough of that, Theo," Draco warned, his frustration clear as he aimed another swat at his friend, who had pushed his luck.
"Calm down, mate, I'm just taking the piss," Theo chuckled, narrowly avoiding an additional strike from Draco, who had grown increasingly irate at his last comment. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm famished. Toodaloo, twats." With that, Theo strolled nonchalantly out of the bathroom, leaving the group behind.
Draco turned to the rest of the party. "Please don't tell me you actually believe that prick?"
"Well, whoever did this is just trying to freak us out, right?" Pansy chimed in, eager to move past the unsettling revelation."So let's just act normal, like we've been doing."
Neville and Blaise followed Pansy's lead, leaving the room and showing no interest in further discussing the note. It appeared that everyone was content to dismiss the mysterious message.
As Pansy exited the room, she shot Hermione one last disdainful look. Who could have placed the note in Draco's locker, and what secrets did they possess? Hermione's thoughts whirled with questions as she turned to Draco was still grappling with the disconcerting message. Hesitantly, she extended a comforting hand, placing it over his, which still clutched the note. Their eyes locked, silver meeting chestnut, a silent pledge to protect their shared secrets at all costs.