Harry didn't comment further after her birthday, but he eyed her every time Hermione made excuses to the boys. It wasn't that she didn't take his warning to heart; but she'd known their professor for just as long, and he'd never done anything to make her feel her trust was misplaced.
Well, not really. He'd always explained himself in the end.
In October, the Defense Club started up again. Everyone who had joined the year before was miles ahead of peers in their year. The first meet-up was a review of the basics, followed by a few weeks of students who'd already been members assisting the newer joins so they could catch up.
October also had the first Hogsmeade weekend.
It was unusually balmy when she and the boys left that morning. It was nearly eleven, so the third years, eager for their first visit, had already thinned out along the path.
"Headed to Scrivener's, Hermione?" Harry inquired when she peeled off; they'd stopped to gaze at a Quidditch-related display.
"Of course," she said.
He nodded. "I'll come with you."
Draco glanced up. "Meet at the Three Broomsticks in an hour?"
"Sure," Harry replied, and he and Hermione continued down the street.
She laughed at her friend as he threw an arm around her shoulder. "You know, I don't need a guard. I have a wand again." Hermione held up the rose vine wand in demonstration. It had been their one stop before King's Cross Station.
"I know," he assured her. "I wanted to come with."
"To the stationary shop? What, for a book?" That was why she went; the store had a small section for books, but she could never stay away.
He grinned. "You say that like you've never seen me with a book."
"It is a rather rare sight," Hermione admitted.
"Oi. I'm not Ron."
She rolled her eyes even as she giggled. "Has anyone ever told you that you're ridiculous, Harry Potter?"
"My mum, just about every morning until I came to Hogwarts, and nearly every morning I'm home, too." He parted from her to open the door.
Hermione was suddenly in her element. She trailed up and down the aisles, fingers brushing the shelves as she passed. Her favorite shelves were for used books, where hidden treasures could be found.
One particularly worn leather volume caught her eye. The title was too faded to read from its spine, so she eased it free to see the cover. Curses, Hexes, Jinxes: The Lost, the Remembered, the Found.
That was both ominous and exciting. She flipped to the table of content as the perfume of old book stirred around her.
"That seems rather dark."
She startled and shot Harry a glare. "It's just a book," Hermione muttered. "Knowledge itself has no morality; that's on the recipient."
"True, though having a tool accessible can make it more tempting," Harry countered.
"Yes, because I'm going to start throwing curses at you whenever you annoy me."
He raised empty palms. "Remind me not to upset you."
Hermione smacked him with the book. "You're incorrigible."
"Yes," he agreed with a ready grin. "I am."
Hermione continued her perusal of the book section with Harry's occasional commentary on whatever she checked. By the time she went to the register, her cheeks hurt from laughing.
"Do you really think Lucius would risk coming here?" she murmured once they left the shop, Harry insistently carrying the small bag for her.
He shook his head. "No. Unless he brought friends, he'd have to face down too many people— us, chaperones, and so forth."
"So, you just wanted to spend time with me?" She bumped against his shoulder.
Harry shrugged. "Is that so strange? I spend a lot of time with you."
"Are you checking up on me, Harry?"
His steps halted. Hermione continued one or two before she noticed and turned back to him. "We haven't talked about anything lately," he said.
"We talk all the time," she replied.
"No, I mean anything serious." Harry glanced askance for any listeners and tugged her toward a small alley between two shops.
"Is this about—" she didn't want to mention Professor Riddle, so cut herself off with a frown.
"No. Well, a little. I am still worried about that. I don't think he's as trustworthy as you seem to think."
"He's a professor, Harry."
Her friend laid a hand on her shoulder and leaned in closer. "I know, but over summer holiday, Professor Dumbledore told us some things about Riddle—"
"Professor Riddle."
"—that brought to light he's not exactly what he seems," he finished without pause.
Hermione clicked her tongue. "He and Professor Dumbledore have never gotten on. It's some difference that has lasted since To— since Professor Riddle was a student himself."
"It's more than that." Harry glanced toward the street again.
"Oh? Like what?"
"Well, he's older than he looks," Harry started. "Much older."
"Is that all?" She rolled her eyes.
"Hermione, this is serious."
She took a breath and released it in a slow sigh. "What else, other than Professor Riddle? You said that was only part of it."
"Yes, well. You've been reading the news, right?"
"Er, yes." Of course, Hermione Granger was reading the news.
Harry stepped closer, his voice low. "Mum's sneaked me some muggle newspapers, too, and there are some strange things going on." She tipped her head to study him, and he went on. "There have been a lot of accidents lately that result in multiple muggle deaths, and there's greater unrest in wizarding towns, too."
"Do you think it's the Pureblood faction?"
His brows pinched. "I dunno. Some of it seems like it's against them and some of it seems less friendly toward muggles."
"Two sides fighting," she commented.
"No, I don't think so. At places that are muggleborn friendly and places dead-set against them both there have been rumors of this symbol." Harry ran a hand through his dark hair. "It's a snake and a skull."
"That's not been in the papers."
"No. My dad told me." His cheeks colored at the admittance. At least she knew this information was reliable.
Hermione scrubbed over tired eyes. "Merlin, what is going on out there?"
"I don't know, but it has me worried, Hermione. Between these acts and the law, it's becoming less safe for all of us. Especially you, though."
She squeezed one of his hands. "Any time we leave the castle, we'll go in pairs or more." He nodded. "Now, how about a butterbeer?"
He brightened and they exited the alleyway hand-in-hand.
The Three Broomsticks was warm and packed full of Hogwarts students. Fortunately for them, Draco and Ron had already arrived, and were seated alongside Neville, Ginny, and Luna Lovegood.
"No Michael, Gin?" Harry asked, causing the girl to turn scarlet beneath her freckles.
"We broke up. He was clingy." Hermione stifled her laugh.
"Hullo, Luna," she said instead.
The starry-eyed blonde smiled. "Hello, Hermione. You're looking tired."
"Er, yes," she agreed, slightly put off by the girl's bluntness. "I stayed up all night studying."
Luna hummed. "Not sleeping builds up nightmares, you know."
"It does?" Hermione had never heard that one before.
"All the bad from the dreams you would have had gathers together until there's no good left yet," she said sagely. "You need to get it out gradually if you don't want that to happen."
"Alright. Well, thank you for the advice."
Harry returned with a pitcher and mugs, pouring for himself and Hermione before topping off the others. "Alright, what've I missed?"
"We went to the joke shop, but the badger here wouldn't let us go to Honeyduke's—"
"—not without Hermione," Draco interrupted, at which Ron rolled his eyes.
"Yeah, yeah. Anyway, we ran into these three and decided to grab a table," Ron finished.
"Exciting," Harry commented.
The Weasley boy griped back, "And Scrivener's was better?"
Harry nodded. "It was absolutely riveting. I nearly pissed my pants."
Hermione groaned.
On the walk back, with Draco carrying her sweets and Harry still with her books, she listened to her friends goofing around. It reminded her of earlier days, before she'd ever been held captive, when her biggest worries were upcoming exams.
That's not entirely true , spoke that little voice at the back of her mind. Whether she'd acknowledged it or not, Hermione had been a prisoner since she was taken from her parents as a small child. Her keepers had handled her with kid gloves and she'd been allowed to fly to select locations, but always came back, complicit in her own captivity until the leash finally chafed.
And then she'd been imprisoned in truth.
Tom had promised her a partnership. He'd seen something in her when others thought her an ordinary, if intelligent girl.
Draco thought you were special . He'd picked her out, after all, and insisted she be treated equally in every way he could. Perhaps had he been raised with only his father's ideals coloring his world, he'd have looked down on her, too.
Instead, he was walking a few steps ahead of her. As though summoned by her thoughts, he tossed a smile across his shoulder, pointed features brightening.
Harry and Ron certainly didn't like her for her intelligence; it had irritated the Weasley at first. Now, they both benefited from it. However, their friendship was about much more than her academic assistance. It was built from years of Quidditch matches watching Harry, then both of them— or both of them watching Draco with her, of cheering the champions at the Triwizard Cup, of their abysmal correspondence to her own steady stream during summers.
All of them had praised her brilliance, but they also commented on how good her spellwork was (mostly Draco), called her pretty (Harry), and laughed at her jokes (albeit, Ron had been surprised at the first one she'd ever made in his earshot).
That counted for something.
It counts for everything.
Notes:
I finally caught COVID. For those who remember, yes I have an autoimmune disease. It's kicking my ass. I've had to put a lot on hold and it sucks.
Anyway my darkfic's Darktober event is looking awesome. We are welcoming of artists, writers, readers, more... /GfcwGjGDfK. It's 18 and older, just an fyi.