Draco Malfoy returned in second year wearing a silver emblem emblazoned with his family crest. Hermione imagined it must be worth a small fortune. It was engraved with a delicate set of words in Latin, 'sed terrae graviora manent'. Hermione didn't want to know what it meant; likely some vile Malfoy philosophy about purity of blood. She watched as Pansy Parkinson examined it at the breakfast table, giggling repulsively as she turned it over in her stubby hands. A flood of anger rushed through Hermione. They deserved each other. Malfoy's eyes caught hers and he gave a sarcastic smile as he whispered something in Pansy's ear. This motion caused another peal of high pitched laughter. Hermione quickly looked away and tried to shake off the feeling; she didn't want to start this year thinking about Draco Malfoy.
"What's your problem?" Ron asked her, chewing a mouthful of buttered toast. He was sitting opposite her next to Harry, examining his collectible card of Tycho Dodonis, the great seer.
"Malfoy." She said shortly, turning to gaze out of the tall windows. "I can't stand to look at that… that cockroach." Ron made a noise of agreement. At least it was a beautiful day. The sunlight danced off the lakes and the grounds outside were flourishing with the last blooms of the summer. Hermione wanted to feel the pangs of excitement she had felt on her way to Paddington station, but it was as if a dark cloud had obscured it. The hatred she felt for Malfoy had somehow perfected itself over the summer, growing from a mild annoyance to a biting fury that nibbled at her insides. Don't let him ruin this, she thought, but that was easier said than done.
"-Hermione?" She snapped herself out of her daydream and realised both Ron and Harry were looking at her expectantly.
"Sorry. My mind's somewhere else today." Hermione said apologetically. She knew this conversation was far more important than some petty grudge. Someone had tried to stop Harry from entering Hogwarts; both he and Ron had narrowly managed to avoid expulsion, and there had been a ferocious battle with the whomping willow. Hermione sighed. It was only the second day of term; some part of her had hoped for a little more peace this year. The train ride down had been harrowing. Hermione had a leisurely four hours to imagine what could have happened to her friends when neither of them showed up on the Hogwarts express. After the events of last year there was one unquestionable fact; you-know-who was trying to return. Harry being blocked from the school and his chaotic visit from Dobby the house elf were pieces of the puzzle; but where did they fit in?
"Just ignore him 'Mione." Ron offered around another mouthful of food. That's what I'm trying to do. She wanted to scream the words at him, but instead she gave him a stern look before going back to picking at her breakfast morosely. She couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed, something was wrong. Perhaps it had been his parting words to her at the end of first year. Mudblood. The word hung between them like a death sentence. She had decided not to tell Ron or Harry about her argument with Malfoy in the entrance hall; she didn't need another reason for him to be brought up in conversation. She kept her head down as Ron and Harry shot furtive questions her way; perhaps she could forget him this year. Yes, she decided. She wouldn't mention him again.
Of course, nothing ever went according to her plans. As the weeks went by and the attacks of the heir of Slytherin began, Malfoy became the prime suspect.
Two months later, Hermione was cursing under her breath as she ducked into the girl's bathroom. She had just come from the worst mission to gather ingredients yet; retrieving one of Pansy Parkinson's hairs. Pansy was an obvious choice as she was being collected for a weekend trip to some haughty pureblood family wedding that afternoon. Hermione weighed her choices and settled on making a snarky comment to Pansy in the hallway. She had been rewarded by being slammed full-force against a heavy stone wall. Hermione stretched her back uncomfortably, making a mental note to go to the hospital wing to get some bruise salve when this was over.
Then again, she thought, it could have been much worse. Hermione thought she had struck gold when Milicent Bulstrode wrestled with her at the duelling club and left a mousy brown hair on her robes. However, on closer inspection, Hermione noticed with dismay that it was one of the hairs from Milicent's snooty cat. She had come far too close to disaster, too close to an unacceptable mistake. Crafting the Polyjuice potion was challenging, perhaps more challenging than Hermione expected. She had slaved over this potion for what felt like forever, panicking at every step that she would slip up and destroy her progress.
It didn't help that Malfoy was everywhere she looked. He had come closer than ever to matching her grades. Sometimes she saw him in the library with dark circles under his eyes and had to snap her book shut and take her studies to the common room. She could almost feel him moving around the castle with that loathsome smirk on his face. Thankfully he had stayed away from her as much as possible but the creeping sensation of dread and hatred she felt when he entered the classroom was a daily occurrence. It had taken a few weeks to realise that sometimes she'd feel that anger before he walked into the room; the thought perplexed her. She knew magical folk were more perceptive but this reaction seemed extreme, unfamiliar.
She stirred the potion furiously. Focus, Hermione. There was only five minutes left of what the formula described as 'vigorous stirs, anticlockwise' and the potion would finally be finished. Soon, she would have to give the performance of her life to the Slytherin girls for more information on Malfoy and pray that she wouldn't encounter him on the way. She wondered, idly, as she stirred, if he could really be the heir of Slytherin. Malfoy was a smug little weasel but she wasn't sure if he was capable of murder. Then again, Hermione thought ruefully, how could she tell? It's not as if he would go around advertising it if he was. Finally, the potion was complete and Hermione checked her watch impatiently until Harry and Ron skidded into the bathroom.
"It's ready." She said, wrinkling her nose as she began spooning out chunky ladles of Polyjuice into the crystal flagons she had brought. It was possibly the most disgusting thing she had ever smelled; a combination of stale water and animal carcass. "Now, add the hairs." As each of them sprinkled the hairs on the potion, they fizzed and changed colour. Ron and Harry's was an unappetising sludgy brown but Hermione was mildly surprised to see Pansy's hair had turned her potion a pale pastel green. She sniffed it tentatively and was greeted by the smell of wet grass. Well that's just excellent, she thought. Essence of Pansy. They looked at each other for a moment, trying to delay the inevitable.
"Well.. Cheers." Hermione smiled grimly and clinked her flagon with theirs. She downed the potion, trying desperately not to taste it but was oddly surprised at how mild it was. Ron's flagon smashed on the floor as he heaved, his eyes bulging out of his head.
"I think I'm going to be sick." He blurted out as he sprinted into a cubicle. Harry's flagon was next, shattering into a thousand pieces as it hit the flagstone floor. Hermione was losing control of her fingers, the cup slid and smashed, she could feel what felt like a thousand bubbles under her skin, moving, trying to get out…
She gasped and clutched her throat. Had she made a mistake? Had she given Harry and Ron something that could kill them all? She inhaled sharply as the sensation rose to an uncomfortable crescendo and then mercifully began to fade. As she turned to Harry, she was met with two dull beady eyes; eyes belonging to Goyle. She couldn't help but laugh in relief.
"It worked." She breathed.
"Was there a chance it wasn't going to?" Ron-Crabbe asked indignantly as he emerged from the stall. Hermione caught herself in the mirror. It was unnerving, seeing Pansy Parkinson's face staring at her with wide eyes. She was almost pretty, Hermione thought, when there wasn't a sneer on her face.
"We have exactly an hour." Hermione told them, quickly slipping the Slytherin robes over her shoulders. She had pilfered them from the laundry earlier that day, taking into account Pansy was at least three inches taller than her. Ron and Harry changed hastily beside her.
"Good luck Hermione. Stay safe." Harry whispered as they left the bathroom, splitting away from each other at the entrance to the Slytherin commonroom. Hermione's plan was to head directly to the Slytherin girl's dormitory. Her heart beat in her chest like a drum as she snuck past the stray students who were loitering in the common room. When she made it to the dormitory, to her dismay, Hermione found the beds of Daphne Greengrass and Milicent Bulstrode were empty. Of course Pansy leaving for the night would change their plans- she was the ringleader. They flocked about her like a gaggle of adoring sheep; how could Hermione not have taken this into account?
"Merlin's beard." She cursed. They could be anywhere in the castle. She hedged her bets. Hermione sat down gingerly on the edge of Pansy Parkinson's bed and waited in case they returned. After 45 minutes, she realised it had all been for nothing. All she could do now was hope Ron and Harry had been more successful with Malfoy. Any longer and she risked transforming back into herself; a thrill of anxiety struck her at the idea of navigating out of Slytherin house half Hermione, half Pansy. She hurried down the steps, irritation coursing through her. A month's work and she had sat quietly, alone, in the Slytherin dormitory for an hour. Great work, Hermione, she thought irritably .
She cut quickly through the Slytherin common room, staying close to the walls, and had just about time to breathe a sigh of relief when a voice came from the shadows in the corner.
"Stop right there." Hermione froze on the spot. She tensed, recognising the voice immediately. She slowly moved a step closer into the light and her breath caught in her throat. It was like the hatred was a gas flame pointed directly on her chest. It was crushing, almost painful. I hate you, I hate you. Malfoy winced and held out one hand, indicating for her to not come any closer. "I- thought you were someone else." He muttered, his eyes still boring into her. Damn him for looking at her that way, as if he could see through her borrowed face and into her soul.
"You seem… different than this morning." He scrutinised her carefully, and almost imperceptibly leaned away. Hermione-Pansy swallowed heavily. Could he sense that it was really her? How could that be possible? Even the most accomplished wizards couldn't see through a polyjuice potion. Yet the pressure she felt standing in front of him… it was unnatural. Hermione had never experienced these feelings before; she knew what hatred felt like. She had felt it since the first time she'd spoken to him, but this was a darker emotion. She had to physically hold herself in place so she wouldn't turn and run out of the room. Or run towards him and tear his eyes out. She pushed the thought away. It was as if there was a barrier between them, forcing them apart like two opposing magnets. Unnatural. The word suspended itself in her mind.
"Sorry, got to go. Lots of… Homework." Hermione tried to emulate Pansy's high pitched simper, but her voice came out as a small squeak. They stared at each other for a breath, then Hermione turned tail and sprinted out of the Slytherin common room. When she was safely around the corner two hallways down, she bent over double, her breath coming out in gasps. This wasn't right, this wasn't right. Her reaction to his presence scared her. It felt like an animal clawing inside her, trying to get out.
When she met Harry and Ron back in the girl's bathroom, she had managed to compose herself. The effects of the potion had completely faded on both of them and they stood there in the almost comically oversized Slytherin robes. Ron gave a deep shrug and sighed.
"Well, whoever the heir of Slytherin is, it's not Malfoy." They spoke in hushed tones about what Harry and Ron had heard but Hermione's focus was shifted. Somehow, somewhere along the way she was missing something. Once or twice Hermione considered confiding in Ron and Harry but what would she say? She was experiencing unnatural and irrational hatred for Draco Malfoy? Compared to the attacks, it seemed frivolous. This wasn't what she was supposed to be afraid of. Hermione bit her lip. She couldn't add to Harry's worries, not until she'd figured this out.
Hermione couldn't help but watch Malfoy with an almost masochistic curiosity over the next week. The week after, she couldn't stand the inactivity and decided to conduct experiments on… whatever this was. It didn't matter how close they were to each other; if there was no physical barrier between them, the unbearable anger would gnaw at her. Less intense, Hermione noted, if he was further away. Eventually, she began to feel like she was losing her mind because there was only one solution, only one answer that came from the hours of painstaking research.
Somehow, they had been cursed.
It was the single conclusion Hermione could come to, but the idea itself was absurd. Who on earth would curse her to feel unbearable hatred towards Draco Malfoy? She added up the facts again and again and felt no closer to achieving an answer. Eventually, she knew the only course of action to take, and it made her skin crawl. She would have to speak to Malfoy directly.
She cornered him in the library the next day. She had barely been able to sleep the night before, almost nauseous at the thought of being in his presence. The library, usually the most comforting place in Hogwarts for Hermione, felt claustrophobic that morning. The high walls with winged creatures painted in dreamy patterns felt too low, like it was closing in on her. Hermione steeled herself, trying not to feel caged.
"We need to talk." When Malfoy looked up from his pile of books and scattered scrolls, Hermione realised for the first time how awful he looked. The shadows of the common room had hid it from her the night she took the potion. There were indigo blue smudges of ink on his fingers. He had lost weight, his cheeks had a gaunt shadow and Hermione eyed the dark circles under his eyes. From the looks of things, he had been sleeping about as much as Hermione. She held fast, determined not to waver. "I know you feel it too. Something's wrong." Malfoy's scowl was back.
"Don't presume you know how I feel, mudblood." He hissed. He reminded her of a starved animal in a trap. The word itself sent an uncomfortable shiver down her spine. He had become too familiar with it.
"Two weeks ago, you saw Pansy in the common room when she was supposed to be away." Hermione began, determined to pull answers out of him by any means necessary. Malfoy registered this information carefully, narrowing his eyes. "It wasn't Pansy, it was me. I took a polyjuice potion because I wanted to check something." She had decided to omit spying on Malfoy from the record. He didn't need to know that for months, he had been the prime suspect for the attacks on muggleborns. Although knowing Malfoy, perhaps he would have taken it as a compliment.
"And what, pray tell, were you.. Checking … When you made a potion that took months and broke about fifty school rules in the process?" His voice had taken on an infuriatingly patronising tone. With a twinge of despair, Hermione knew she was losing him. She was struggling to focus on the conversation; she hadn't been this close to him since first year. His hands were flat on the table which was a small comfort; the thought of them anywhere near her made her cringe.
"You knew it was me because you felt it. I know you did. I feel it too, I think…" She hesitated. "I think… someone has cursed us." Malfoy laughed a cold humourless laugh.
"How dramatic. Even for you, Granger." She hated the way he said her name. It sounded like an insult coming from his mouth. "I never took you for the twitchy, paranoid type…"
"-I'm not. Malfoy." Hermione interrupted furiously. She couldn't help but turn her tongue around his name so it slid mockingly out of her mouth. "That's the point."
"Was there a point?" He looked almost amused at her discomfort.
"Something is… wrong… don't you feel it?" He paused, ducking his head. He didn't answer. "Look, if you want to help me figure out what's going on, meet me in the abandoned classroom on the second floor at 11 sharp." Malfoy's gaze was suspicious. If Malfoy asked her to meet at some random location at night, Hermione would assume it was a trap. The idea of any form of trust between them was laughable. She realised how ridiculous she sounded but the wrongness she was feeling was overpowering her better judgement.
"And what will we be doing in an abandoned classroom in the middle of the night?" Draco asked her contemptuously.
"Figuring out who has done this to us." Hermione told him firmly. "And why." With a deft gesture that brought her sickeningly close to Malfoy, she picked up the book in front of him and turned it around. "For the record," She continued, "When studying Ancient History, I find it's best to read the right way up." She tightened her mouth and turned on her heel. Malfoy stared after her, mouth slightly open.
"11 sharp." Hermione hurled the words over her shoulder as she walked away. With a deft motion, she tucked her arms in front of her so he wouldn't see them shaking.
Malfoy's expression was unreadable as he picked up the book, his fingers lightly covering where Hermione had touched it.
—
That night, Hermione pored over her books. The voices Harry had been hearing only added to her anxiety; there was something loose in the school and it wanted her dead. She wondered if Harry and Ron really knew how she felt, the terror at leaving her room each morning. The attacks had grown more frequent, Hermione felt like she was racing against time. Find the monster. But what could it be? A footnote caught her eye. Something about the word 'Parseltongue'. Hermione scrambled over the small mountain of books piled up on her bed to her Magical Beasts book. Her fingers trembled as she flipped through page upon page until finally…
Hermione held the book up to the light of the flickering candle. It had nearly burned down to the wick. 'Basilisk'. A curling serpent twisted across the page in black and white. It was as if icy water had been poured down her neck.
"The monster is a basilisk." She whispered, scanning the entry. It was as if all the pieces had come together, like slotting in the last part of a jigsaw puzzle. Hermione jotted down one word, 'pipes' on the page and swiftly tore it out. Hermione wasn't one for desecrating school books, but this was an emergency. She would have to tell Harry and Ron; this changed everything. She felt a thrill of apprehension about what was to come, but somehow it felt small compared to the task she had tonight. She needed to meet Malfoy first. Hermione checked the small clock on her bedside table and scrambled to her feet. Before she left, she grabbed a small hand mirror from the cabinet, and brushed her hand over the rune on her headboard. 'C.A.D'. It had become something akin to a good luck ritual, not that Hermione would ever believe in something like that.
As she hurried down the corridors, Hermione was painfully aware of how exposed she was. If the creature could move throughout the castle, she reasoned, then any place was as safe as the next. Each time she extended the mirror around a corner, her heart raced in her chest. She was almost there.
Hermione started to relax slightly which is why it took her a heartbeat to register that in the mirror, around the corner, was a set of large yellow eyes.
Then nothing but darkness.
–
Hermione responded perfectly to the mandrake root. At least, that's what Madame Pomfrey told her as she gave her a comforting pat on the head. Her eyes regained movement first, thankfully Pomfrey was there to explain what had happened while she remained paralysed. Hermione was told it could take up to four hours to regain full movement and she squirmed inside the shell of her body. Pomfrey fed her information like it was a drip; slowly. After the first hour, Hermione wanted to scream with frustration.
It felt like a lifetime, but the petrification eventually wore away and finally, her questions were answered. Hermione was given a small pot of salve that felt delightful on her sore limbs and she hastily rubbed it in under the watchful eye of Pomfrey.
"Can I please go now?" She asked hopefully when it was finally completed and Pomfrey gave her a small smile and a nod of approval. Hermione raced down the hallways to the great hall, her heart in her throat. As she entered, the fact that Malfoy was there was something she could almost ignore. She spotted Harry and ran to him, throwing her arms around him. "Congratulations." She beamed. "I can't believe you solved it."
They both grinned widely at each other and Hermione turned to hug Ron. The expression on his face made her arms drop awkwardly to her sides. Perhaps not, she thought to herself. Hermione tucked her legs into the wooden bench, accepting the welcoming claps on the back and handshakes the Gryffindor table directed her way.
Then, seemingly against her will, her eyes began to drift through the crowd, over the tables and the plates heaped high with food, past the kindly smile of Dumbledore.
Draco Malfoy was staring at her. She met his gaze defiantly. This wasn't over. She gave him a small, sarcastic smile. A smile that said 'I'm still here and there's nothing you can do about it'. He smirked and raised his glass to her before he took a swig. A smirk that said 'you're still here. For now'.