chapter 8
Reconnect
Hermione woke to a gentle paw placed against her nose. It was early. Light had yet to blare in golden shimmer from the curtains. She blinked once, then twice.
The pale body of Drogon sat in her direct vision. His large eyes, wide and ever watchful.
"Good morning," she greeted softly as she allowed her mind to acclimate to the waking state. It hurt to awaken from deep sleep so suddenly. Her palms dug into her eye sockets.
Drogon sat patiently, watching her ready herself in a clean outfit and other morning routines, with the onlooking observation that made her heart feel loved and self-conscious at the same time. It was a cat. He couldn't talk. But, the way his mind was enchanted smarter than the rest, it was not impossible for it to judge.
She made sure to brush her teeth for three and a half minutes rather than the standard three.
Just in case.
Hermione was considering what to do with her day when a cat meowed. It'd been so silent within the dorm that her hold on the bed faltered.
She smoothed the wrinkles out of her jumper. "I didn't realize you talked."
His head tilted slightly.
A thick band of black rhinestones rested against his neck. He sported it very proudly. His little cat chest pushed it out on display as she ran her fingertips along the edges of the jewels. Her mind, a mess of thoughts.
Draco was wealthy, extravagant for no purpose, and he loved to display the fact. It was possible that the jewels of the cat collar were real.
She toyed with the idea of removing it as it was completely ridiculous to have a cat adorned in priceless jewels when children starved and suffered in the world, except Drogon loved it. He was her cat. Her dependent. Removing the item would be a cruel punishment for the creature just to spite a wizard.
Another victory to Malfoy.
"Meow!" He said again.
She stared at him quizzically. "What are you saying?"
A princess's prerogative, conversations with animals, was not as easy as it seemed. Subtle moves meant significant features. A simple tail flick could mean irritation, a warning of danger, perhaps a sign of recognition as a makeshift wave.
There was so much guesswork since they hadn't really secured a code yet.
Hermione wringed her hands tirelessly. The cat was saying something. He wanted her to know.
But what was it?
He waited patiently as she guessed.
"Have I forgotten an assignment? Did Lavender step on you? Is it Harry? Ron? Ginny? Oh! The twins. They've hurt someone, haven't they?"
Drogon shook his head to each answer.
Finally, after much waiting, he started to claw at the edge of his collar. Aggressively. She watched the creature struggle with the thick collar at its neck like a noose, pulling it tighter and tighter against its neck with such force.
Perhaps he didn't like it…
She reached out to help Drogon when a little slip of parchment slipped from beneath it, and the cat moved back to sitting, looking down at the paper as if interested in what it read.
The author was Draco, no doubt.
"Did you go see him?"
Being suspicious of a cat was a very mixed emotion in itself. On one hand, it was a bloody cat. On the other was the fact that it was a highly intelligent animal capable of many unknown things. She had to proceed with caution.
Drogon indicated no.
"Then…how?"
His tail snapped front. The slender white tail hung mid-air, rippling like waves of an ocean, where at the tip rested two long brown hairs.
Khaleesi.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Of course."
He seemed to share the same sentiment, which eased her tension. She unrolled the thin parchment where an elegant scrawl waited for her. It was very clearly Draco's. No other wizard was as committed to perfect handwriting as the self-important Slytherin.
Walk. After breakfast. Meet by Pendulum. Don't be late.
She scoffed. "Not a single question mark. He doesn't ask me. He tells me. Instructs. I have half a mind to…ignore it altogether."
After the night before with their kiss, whatever it was, he hadn't the decency to be kind to ask her. Rather demand from her. Like a prisoner, like a…pet.
Drogon agreed with her. He reached across the page and allowed his claws to shred the note to nothing. She smiled, vanquishing the remains, and petting the creature down its spine.
"What shall we do instead?" She asked.
He leapt up to a shelf over her bed. The cat just barely fit with all the items arranged in neat piles. Completed assignments, books, extra parchment and ink, a few muggle notepads for when she wrote her parents. But Drogon climbed at the very top of the stacks, steadied his feet, and swatted a novel down to her mattress below.
She ran her fingers along the old leather spine. It was one of her favorite books, one that her grandmother gifted to her just before the start of her first year at Hogwarts.
"Bleak House." The smell of the book was divine. It transported her back to the Hogwarts library where she hunkered down one blistery weekend and read the entire thing cover to cover. "This shall do it. Come on then. We've got a full day ahead of us."
They set up in the common room. She chose a secluded corner with a plump armchair for their little reading nook, happy to offer her shoulder as a resting spot for Drogon as she read. He snuggled his face against hers. The soft hum of his chest helped her nerves calm as she cracked open the beloved novel, ready for release from the stresses of Hogwarts. If only for a little while.
A crowd of late risers of Gryffindor Tower descend from their dormitories off toward the Great Hall in time for their breakfast while Hermione chose to continue reading.
If Draco saw her at breakfast, he'd send the two oafs to corral her into his company.
He spent much of his time more fascinated with watching her than he did instigating Harry and Ron into petty arguments, though. That was a change. The wizard hardly took his eyes off her. Harry and Ron might prance through the halls in nothing but their socks, and Malfoy might not notice.
Her movements were, apparently, much more interesting.
Then she remembered their kiss and the whole conundrum came flooding back toward her like a raging bull at a matador's cape. Godric! How had that kiss even happened? Why did it feel so good in the moment? What made that moment even happen?
Well, there were Terry's words in her head. "Don't judge a Slytherin just by his house colors alone." That. That was the insane start to the moment where it felt right to let Draco kiss her in the middle of the bloody hall like some fickle tart so dazzled by a rich handsome wizard.
Granted, the bit of his jealousy was nice. If she was being honest. Only in the sake of being transparent with herself so she might understand did she admit that Draco's jealousy over her company made her a mite happy.
No, happy was too much. Flattered fit better.
Hermione was slightly flattered that he thought of her enough to be jealous of whom she spent her time with. As if it was ever with someone who hasn't one of her best friends! Harry, Ron, Ginny. That was it.
That wasn't quite true, though, was it? Terry was becoming a recurrent figure in her life. Not by any fault of her own. It made Draco furious when the wizard talked to her, which was not under her control. He helped himself. She barely knew Terry Higgs, even now.
Should she trust him? Should she like him?
He was a Slytherin, which meant that no matter how much he tried, she'd be leery of his motives. But his looks. They made her body in raptures under his attention. Much to her dismay.
"Mione?"
She looked up from the pages. "Yeah?"
"You've got a cat on your shoulder," Ginny stated.
The common room was empty except for Neville and Ginny at one of the wizard's chess boards with pieces all scattered about the place. As she observed, yet another piece pushed another off. The piece held onto the edge of the board with all its might until it finally fell, shattered to bits on the table.
Hermione rubbed her forehead. "I know. He's mine."
The cat knowingly climbed down from its perch. It opted for a space on the armrest, frozen in place like a statue seated toward her friends, examining them carefully. Drogon took his time with people. He never approached until he was ready with great persuasion. He avoided her dorm mates. Any time he heard Lavender, he slinked back to protection underneath Hermione's bed until she was gone.
"You got another cat without telling me?" Ginny asked. The words came out of her throat almost as though she didn't believe them. Her tongue moved as a lazy fish as it moved with each sound, gently clicking at the very end. "Did you just have to have him?"
If she only knew.
Hermione nodded. "Something like that."
"Even after Crookshanks?"
She rose up from her chair. Her eyes burned. She'd stared at the open pages of her novel too long without blinking. The dense dust of old books stung.
A familiar blur clouded her eyesight as she approached the two others. She forced a sad smile.
"It was time," Hermione said. "I need a familiar."
It settled her friend back in her seat. "What's his name? If it is a he. Merlin, Hermione. What else are you going to spring on us this term?"
That was the ultimate question, wasn't it?
How much would Draco force her to endure before he released her from his weird obsession?
But then. He wouldn't be so attentive anymore. Draco would turn back to Malfoy. He'd be that bitter, hateful, awful wizard from Slytherin who hated her guts. A small piece of her ached at that thought. He'd no longer be…tolerable. No longer, her acquaintance.
Hermione released that sadness with a sigh. "Can we talk about something important? I've gotten some ideas for what we might do during our training. Once we find our space, of course. Do either of you know where we can practice? I've tried. All I can think of is the Shrieking Shack, but Harry said it's too small. But what other place is there?"
"Well I - ."
"Morning Hermione," Ron greeted with a warm smile.
He was back from breakfast along with Harry. The pair of them were in better spirits. For once, the bags underneath their eyes weren't so dark like bruises from a long night of fighting sleep. It lifted her heart.
Harry opened his arms for an embrace. One that she received greedily. "Good morning."
The shimmer back in Harry's eye reignited that bloom in her chest that made her content at Hogwarts. Her friend was back. He was better.
"Morning." Her voice sang with more emotion than it had all term.
The two stood near one another, a reflection of the others face. Being a trio again felt like home. It was bliss. Harry had been kind to her when no one else had. Not even Ronald.
That was years ago. She forgave Ron's loud mouth as she often did because of his uncanny ability to say the wrong thing near the wrong person. Harry, not the least bit shy of his feelings, was gentler in his ways. He cared. They hadn't even known each other that night before the troll. She'd been so focused on impressing the other peers so that she might be accepted as a witch that she hadn't taken the time to consider another Muggle-raised friend as an ally.
She was grateful for the connection they both had to the wizarding and muggle world.
"Hey. There's the little guy."
Ron reached out toward Drogon whom was still perched on the arm of the chair in his quiet company which made him invaluable as a familiar. The white cat eyed the wizard with pause. A look on consideration crossed the cat's face, almost as if he was not convinced of the intentions of a friendly scratch. It very much reminded her of a humanlike characteristic rather than a cats.
Drogon was very different from the other animals of Gryffindor. The colors of their house and personalities were warmer tones, browns and reds and gold. The entire common room was a retch of those colors swirled together.
Stark white was not of the Gryffindor. Not even as a pet. Hedwig was the only other white pet of a Gryffindor. She was beautiful and graceful but appeared more of a Ravenclaw or Slytherin type pet, cool and collected, smooth and stoic as those houses were.
Hermione watched on as she realized Drogon would have been a great match for Draco's house rather than hers, but the connection she felt with the thoughtful animal already told her that he was the perfect fit. He aligned with her soul.
Surprising all of the friends, Ron collected Drogon within his arms as one would a small infant and carried him near. Not once did the cat extend its claw, to Hermione's great relief because if another one of her animals disliked Ronald that would ring as a pattern rather than a terrible coincidence, but he kept his paws against Ron's bicep in case a bit of mischief was done against Drogon's approval.
"He's a beaut," Ron said.
His sister wrinkled her nose. "Thought you hated cats."
"I don't hate cats, you nutter." He was utterly astonished at the accusation. "I just hated her cat. The devil, he was. Always scratched at me. Grumpy thing. Not like this one. Oh you like a good rubbing, don't you? Oi, Mione. What's his name?"
It warmed her heart the way he cradled her cat and snuggled him close. Drogon was not openly reciprocal with feelings, however, he remained pleasant and tolerant of the affection.
Perhaps she'd been wrong about Ron. There were a great many qualities that were endearing, things that always warmed her heart when they didn't give her a headache. He was a simple wizard. He wore his emotions very close to the surface. That was nice. She never had to guess what he was after, if he was manipulating her or just being untruthful.
Yet, the feelings that Terry Higgs sparked were stronger, more mature. It was not the way she cared about Ron. It was stronger. She wanted to drag her fingers across his body and discover if he was as muscular as he seemed in his uniform.
She quickly shook the startling thought out her head.
Crushes were frivolous.
There was no reason to like anybody. Romance was beyond importance. She needed to focus on her studies and her friends and doing what she could to save the world from a dark wizard.
"Drogon," she replied.
"After the dragon?" Ginny asked.
Finally, Harry made his debut of interest within the conversation. "A dragon named Drogon. That's brilliant."
"Not just a dragon, Ginny. Thee dragon. The king of all dragons," Ron answered with a bit of awe. "He's the father of all dragons. They say he was the strongest ever seen, able to burn an entire city down to the ground. Back in the old days, you know. When dragons weren't such a fright as they are now."
Drogon relented his resistance over Ron's friendly pets; his eyes turned to crescents. He purred and rubbed his head closer, not allowing Ron to stop the attention. Ron just chuckled and continued on.
"A little simple, isn't it? The name." Small glasses fell to the edge of Harry's nose. He pushed them back up with his pointer finger. "A dragon named Drogon. It isn't imaginative. Sounds like a rubbish fairy tale."
"Magical history has been closely documented, Harry. Drogon was a real dragon. He fathered many dragons in his time which eventually led to the creation of the modern species we see today." Hermione was fascinated by the history of the wizarding world. It was the first topic of research when she landed in the Hogwarts library with a great thirst. It was quenched by books larger than her torso filled with illustrations of ancient times, the start of the split of magic and non-magic people, historical figures and ancient history. Of this topic, she was very familiar. "Drogon was the personal pet of the queen who settled these lands for wizards and witches. He was named after a long lost lover of hers. Drogo. She lost him to an injury unable to be cured by magic. It was his death that encouraged her to overtake a stretch a land and create a haven for all magical peoples and beings."
Harry scratched his head. "Oh. Uh, really?"
"The start of The Split," Neville said softly.
"What was that, Neville?"
Wizards chess was not an easy game. Many wizards were very experienced in the game, especially in Gryffindor house. Seamus Finnegan was exceptional, as was Ron. Not many stood a chance in a game against them.
Awkward, quiet and shy was an excellent way to describe the lanky Gryffindor wizard. He sweated through shirts during Potions class, stuttered when called upon by Snape, jumped at any sudden noise and lost at wizard's chess to everyone.
That morning he'd asked Ginny to help him learn to play a better game so that he might beat Ron.
"The Split," Neville reiterated.
The expression upon Harry's face remained blank. "The split of what?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "People, Harry. The Split is when wizards and witches divided themselves away from muggles to protect themselves. Magic became rare. Only certain families were seemingly blessed with it, and it made others jealous. Nervous. So, The Split happened."
Tired of the history lesson, the Gryffindors moved on to more lighter subjects. They positioned themselves around the open fire of the Tower, happy to be merry in each other's presence elevated by the emerging excitement of their new dueling club, or training. It depended upon on who was asked.
Hermione considered it training. She hadn't the time for optional clubs.
Training was an entire matter altogether. That was necessary. Not only was it imperative for their education, the tides of the world were risen to the height of fear. Voldemort was back. Everyone needed preparation for the storm.
Time passed. Troubles erased from her mind.
She hadn't the time to think of Draco Malfoy and their kiss, or Terry Higgs and his confusing friendship. Not when she finally had the time to talk to her best friends without their moody negativity. Her 'friendship' with Malfoy was not even discussed. Shockingly.
Harry sat on her one side, Ginny on the other. Ronald chose a nearby lounge chair, closer to the fire to warm his toes. Neville crossed his legs and sat right atop the rug at the center of their half circle.
It was not long before Neville was pulled away from the group toward the other boys of the year. They made a point to ignore Harry and Ron. Neither cared.
Ginny had plans with Michael, so she skipped away not too long after, only once Ron questioned the will to live out of her.
"For Godric's sake Ron. It's a walk, not a marriage proposal." The red head gathered her straight locks into a messy bun. "What's the worst that can happen on a walk?"
"Be petrified," Hermione answered without thought.
"Be attacked by Harry's godfather."
"Encounter Voldemort sucking blood from a unicorn."
Ron grabbed hold of each of Ginny's shoulders. "Have loads of meat-eating spiders chase you through the forest and try to eat you."
"Be framed by a disguised death eater into a deadly contest to resurrect - ."
"I get it!" Ginny exclaimed. "I get it. Alright? But what I meant was, what could happen to a normal person on a walk. Not you three."
She left through the portrait hole uninterested in their answers. It was very clear that trouble always found the three of them rather than any other student within the castle walls.
Ginny was safe from all that.
Ron grumbled for a while about Michael and his 'slick' moves. It was a requirement for an older brother. Hermione and Harry shared a small unconvinced look. Hot air. That was all that Ron was.
And just as quick as he started, Ron settled down again. He stretched out in his chair, ruffled his bright red hair, and stared out into dancing orange flame in a late morning daze. Hermione noticed his eyelids heavy nature. They slowed. Each blink became harder to fight.
The silence between Harry and Hermione felt sticky. Neither seemed to know what to do to alleviate it. Things were good between them, but strained.
Things were strained with Harry and the world, she believed. There was a great burden on Harry's mind. Naturally, of course. He was the Chosen One. He was set to defeat Voldemort and save the world. That was a huge responsibility, pressure to be perfect. Hell, just pressure to survive.
It was not his fault that he was given that. But it was not hers either.
Ron and Hermione gave nothing but undying support and still he treated them like everyone else. Like they didn't believe him.
"Hermione." His voice was soft, lost under the burly tones of Ronald's snoring.
She looked at Ron, startled yet amazed at how deep tones came from such a wizard. The gaping hole of his mouth was an abyss of darkness. His tongue drooped nearly to his collar as he slept. Eyes pinched tight in a line of red wispy eyelashes.
Hermione gently pushed his chin the other way to direct the snores at the window. "Suppose you're used to that by now."
"Oh. Yeah. I don't notice it anymore. It's white noise," Harry said. "I miss it when I go back to the Dursley's. Can't sleep a few nights. Too quiet."
She offered up a smile. It pained her to not relate. Homecoming from Hogwarts was a grand time that she enjoyed. The home she grew up in was a greater comfort than her school. Sleeping there was the safest she felt.
Drogon suddenly appeared at her side, scratching at his collar as he had that morning.
Another note from Draco.
Still, she focused upon her friend. There was a time and a place to deal with Draco's mess. The one place that it did not reach was Gryffindor Tower. Not when her friends needed her.
"Ron is like that. Everyone just…misses him."
"I miss you, too, Mione." He touched her hand. "It may not feel like it. I haven't been the best friend that I should. I've just been, struggling."
She suddenly embraced him. "I know Harry. But we're here for you. To struggle with."
He chuckled as she retracted from the connection.
"I'm beginning to see that," he answered.
"You can't give in. You have to fight him. Fight with everything you can." She swallowed and lowered her voice. "That's what Cedric would have wanted."
"I know I just…I keep feeling like his death was my fault. I should have…I should have done more."
She frowned. "It was a trap, Harry. You couldn't have done anything differently."
They fell to silence.
Anyone did when Cedric was mentioned. His death was an open, bleeding, fresh, ragged wound that never ceased its red spill over feelings at Hogwarts. It was horrid. A talented wizard, a Hufflepuff, kind and strong, fiercely loyal, all that was good in the world, Cedric was. How could anyone stomach killing a Hufflepuff?
"I used to think that He couldn't do much worse. Voldemort. He'd taken the two most important people away from me, the third wrongly imprisoned. He ruined my life." Harry paused to wipe beneath his eyes. "But I was wrong. He did so much worse with Cedric."