The first days of summer went by slowly. Without Harry and Ron and a constant stream of homework and classes, Hermione found her days oddly empty. She also realised how accustomed she had become to using magic in her daily routine when it was suddenly not an option. It gave her a lot of time to mull over the predicament of Draco Malfoy.
She started to wonder if her time-turner incident was an accident, or if it was something she was meant to see. Either way, what could she do with the information? Should she confide in Harry and Ron? There was some risk to that last choice — they were likely to do something rash if Hermione couldn't explain the full picture. And she didn't even know the half of it yet.
Hermione spent her next few days reading ahead on some of her favourite subjects and enjoying the sunshine, and spent the evenings playing games or watching the telly with her parents. She also got her mum and dad to help her stock a care package full of sugar-free snacks to send to Harry — apparently his family was going on a new, rather strict diet. When Harry's birthday came around, she and her mum spent the Saturday before making a cake to send off to him. Ron finally wrote, too, and Hermione would be going to stay with the Weasley family in two weeks' time for the remainder of her summer holidays.
Hermione had at least made one decision about the tower incident; whether she liked it or not, Voldemort would return in some form or another, and soon. She, Ron, and Harry already knew it would happen eventually. Dumbledore confirmed that Trelawney's prophecy would put Peter Pettigrew at the heart of it somehow.
Assuming that her guesswork about tower-Malfoy's age was close, there was a maximum of three years in which it could happen. She needed to prepare as well as she could. Voldemort's entire premise had been the superiority of magical blood, and that meant she and her family were in danger.
Surprisingly, it seemed that for all that the Malfoy family was the perfect example of a well-bred Pureblood family, they were also in trouble. Hermione figured that Lucius Malfoy was a Voldemort supporter, considering his views about people like her and her parents. And, of course, the small matter of the diary he slipped to Ginny Weasley second year, even though they couldn't prove that. He also despised people like Dumbledore, who supported the rights of Muggleborns and encouraged mixing magical and non-magical blood.
By every interaction she'd had with him, Draco Malfoy held the same views as his father. Of course he did. Malfoy clearly idolised his father — every other conversation seemed to involve him. And he had grown up in one of the wealthiest families in Britain, an heir to a Pureblood dynasty on top of it. He probably was under pressure to live up to the prestigious Malfoy name as well. After Harry's disastrous first attempt at using the Floo Network two years ago, he'd told Hermione proudly about overhearing Mr. Malfoy coming down on Draco for letting a Muggleborn beat him out in class.
Draco Malfoy was not his father, though. Hermione remembered his expression as he faced Dumbledore on the Astronomy Tower, and whatever Voldemort had wanted, Malfoy did not want to become a murderer. Draco Malfoy might be a brainwashed bully, but she didn't believe in her heart that he was truly an evil person. People could change, especially those with a weakened resolve. Maybe she just needed to find a way to challenge Malfoy to think differently.
Hermione couldn't say why she was so invested in Malfoy's future. She could do nothing, and let the future continue on unimpeded. She could take what she learned from the Tower and use all of it to help Harry survive. By divulging the events of that night to Harry and Ron, they could put a stop to whatever Malfoy would be up to before it began. She could even go to Dumbledore. But for whatever reason, Hermione felt as if she needed to give Malfoy a chance. She had time. She would of course warn Harry about Voldemort's imminent return, but he didn't need every detail right now. Maybe if she learned more about Malfoy, she could break through to him on some level and find out for herself what was going on.
On the day before Hermione was scheduled to Floo to the Weasleys, her mum came to help her pack her trunk. Mouth-watering aromas drifted upstairs from the kitchen. The clanging of pots and pans told her that her dad was still working to cook up a scrumptious dinner of all her favourite foods.
"Mum, can I ask you something?" Hermione began, hesitating as she folded up her freshly-laundered school robes.
Her mother smiled slightly, looking up from one of Hermione's spell-books in her hands. "Of course, dear. Anything."
"Last year at school I… overheard… something I probably shouldn't have. It was very private, but it could hurt the people involved. Maybe even more than just the people involved. What do you think I should do?"
Her mother hummed in thought. "Well, honey, that's tough," she finally replied, sitting on the edge of the bed. She patted the space next to her, an invitation. "Can you tell me anymore about it?"
"Not really," Hermione said, shoving the robes into her trunk beside a pile of jumpers before joining her mum on the bed. "Not yet at least. I don't even understand it completely."
Her mother's brow furrowed as she studied her daughter's expression.
"Well... then I'd say that if you weren't meant to overhear it, you have a choice on whether or not to get involved."
"Even if it could end up hurting others?" Hermione asked, shifting uncomfortably.
"Even then," her mother replied seriously. "But knowing you, you've already given this a great deal of thought. Trust yourself. You are a clever, capable young woman, and your ability to see the best in those around you is a strength. I know you'll make the right decision for everyone."
"Thanks mum," Hermione said, leaning over to embrace her mother and allowing herself to relish in the comfort of her mother's arms one more time. "I'm going to miss you and dad."
"We'll miss you too, darling," her mother said as they broke apart, tucking a stray curl behind Hermione's ear. "And do be safe this year, won't you? I know you and the other kids are still learning, but I hate the thought of you lying up in the infirmary for weeks like what happened at the end of your second year."
"Of course, mum. I promise you don't have to worry about that again."
After bestowing Hermione with a warm smile, her mother left the room. Watching her go, Hermione bit her lip guiltily. She hadn't been exactly forthcoming with all of the details of what she, Harry, and Ron got into at school each year previously. But, she wasn't lying. Her parents needn't worry about her being petrified by a basilisk any longer.
Bolstered in her own decision to see if she could break through to Malfoy, Hermione closed her trunk and made her way downstairs for dinner.
The next day, the Grangers sat in the living room around the fireplace, awaiting Mr. Weasley's arrival to escort Hermione back to his home. The clock over the mantel read five 'til two, and Ron said in the letter that his dad would Floo over at two o'clock. It was lucky that Ron's dad had a connection at the Ministry to temporarily set up Hermione's fireplace to the Floo Network.
Hermione's dad was oddly excited to see Mr. Weasley again — he was apparently quite chuffed with Arthur's excitable fascination about everything Muggle.
"Hermione," her father asked suddenly, bouncing his knee in his chair, "do you think Arthur knows about computers?"
Her dad had just bought a new IBM computer that he was eager to show off.
And not a minute later, "Hermione, do you think Arthur would understand a joke about a dentist and a golfer?"
Hermione traded fond smiles with her mum as her dad continued to run through a list of different appliances Mr. Weasley might like to see.
Just then, green flames sprung up on the hearth and a quickly rotating figure appeared, resolving into Mr. Weasley as it slowed. Smiling, he dusted off his cloak before straightening and stepping out to greet Hermione and her parents.
Her dad wasted no time steering Mr. Weasley towards his office. Hermione and her mum gathered her luggage and bundled Crookshanks into his carrier while they waited. When it was clear that Hermione would be staying a little longer than anticipated, they even had time to enjoy a quick cuppa.
"Fascinating. Absolutely ingenious," Mr. Weasley was saying to her father as they finally came back down the hall, the clock on the mantel already showing half-past two. "Must see about getting my hands on one of those—"
Her dad's face lit up. "The chap that sold it had an entire catalogue, all the newest models. If you've got another minute I can scrounge up his telephone number—"
"Ooh the fellytone?" Mr. Weasley asked excitedly. "My son Ron knows how to use that. And Harry — you've heard of him, of course — explained how to use one a while back, but I've never had the chance—"
Hermione's mum cleared her throat and both men looked over sheepishly.
Mr. Weasley smiled apologetically. "Ah, yes, but I'm afraid we really must be going," he lamented, his tone suggesting he was reminding himself of that fact more than anything else. "Perhaps another time..."
Hermione's dad already had out a scrap of paper. "Here's mine. Give it a ring anytime for practise," he said with a jovial wink.
Mr. Weasley clapped her father on the back and grinned as he took the paper. "Good man."
With a wave of his wand, Hermione's luggage was off to the Burrow. Her parents watched with wide eyes, still fascinated by any evidence of the existence of her world.
After giving out hugs and numerous promises to write, Hermione picked up Crookshanks and crouched into the empty fireplace. She was going first, as Mr. Weasley needed to stop off at a colleague's to borrow the tents they would use for the Quidditch World Cup. Mr. Weasley held out the jar of Floo powder.
"The Burrow!" Hermione stated clearly, closing her eyes as green fire obscured her vision and she spun down into a blurred stream of fireplaces. When she opened her eyes, Ron and Ginny were waiting on the sofa across from the Burrow's fireplace.
"Hermione!" Ron jumped out of his chair and drew her into a one-armed hug that managed to be slightly awkward. She returned it as best she could while balancing Crookshanks and trying not to get soot all over the living room.
"Hey, Hermione." Ginny smiled and took Crookshanks from her arms so that she could brush off the soot.
"Hello Ron, Ginny," Hermione beamed, dusting her hands.
"No trouble with connecting your Floo, was there?" Ron asked. "We thought you'd be here a lot sooner."
Hermione shook her head and laughed. "No trouble. Our dads got caught up talking about a computer. Muggle thing," she added at their confused looks.
"We've already got your trunk and bags up in my room," Ginny said, bending to release a grateful Crookshanks from his basket.
"And we're going to get Harry at five o'clock tomorrow evening," Ron added.
Ron and Ginny continued to fill Hermione in about the goings-on at the Burrow as they got her settled in Ginny's room for her stay. The eldest Weasley brothers, Bill and Charlie, were already there in preparation for the Cup. Fred and George were in some hot water over a start-up called Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Percy had just started work for the Ministry in the Department of International Cooperation. When it came to Percy, Ron warned her very sternly not to bring up anything to do with Abroad or, curiously, cauldron bottoms.
The next evening, Harry arrived by Floo in a tumult of activity. Fred and George had apparently slipped one of their inventions to Harry's cousin, and the result had landed them in considerable trouble. Even Mr. Weasley looked angry, and Hermione had no desire to stick around for that. She, Ron, Harry, and Ginny were eventually able to slip away from the ensuing argument and get Harry settled in Ron's room.
When dinnertime came, Hermione found herself outside, squeezed in with the nine Weasleys and Harry around a table laden with a delicious, Molly Weasley-prepared meal.
All throughout dinner, Percy kept hinting at some large, top-secret event being planned for after the Cup. It was quickly apparent that he had no intention of actually revealing anything, though, and Hermione gave up speculation entirely when she overheard Ron quietly asking Harry if he'd heard from Sirius lately.
Harry's expression seemed strangely reluctant as he whispered back.
"Yeah, a few times. He sounds okay."
At hers and Ron's expectant looks, he shrugged and added, "Might hear back from him while I'm here."
Ron, who had already looked away, didn't catch Harry's slight frown after he said it.
There wasn't time to question him further. After helping to clean up dinner, Hermione and Ginny were sent straight to Ginny's room to get ready for bed — the Cup was tomorrow evening and they had to be up at dawn in order to catch the Portkey.
The next morning (after Fred and George had been thoroughly searched for pranks and inventions by a furious Mrs. Weasley), the younger Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione followed an entirely-too-chipper Mr. Weasley out into the dark, chilly air, making their way towards the Portkey. Hermione privately resolved to consider exercising more frequently as they climbed Stoatshead hill. She was the last to make it up, breathing hard and clutching her side to keep it from splitting in two.
Already at the top, Cedric Diggory, a good-looking sixth-year Hufflepuff boy, and his father, Amos, had the Portkey in hand. Hermione blushed when Cedric smiled down at her as she was crowded in next to him, jostling into his side as everyone tried to get a finger on the dirty old boot in the middle. Suddenly, a jerking sensation behind her navel ripped all other thoughts from her mind.
As her feet left the ground, Hermione clamped her lips together, desperate not to embarrass herself by screaming out (or worse). She had never felt completely comfortable flying, and this certainly wasn't any better. When her feet finally returned to solid ground, she toppled over and clutched at her stomach again, barely managing not to sick up. All in all, not one of her better mornings.
Hermione helped Harry and Mr. Weasley work out setting up their campsites before she, Harry, and Ron were sent off to get water. As they passed by a huge silk tent with actual, live Peacocks tethered outside, she thought of Malfoy. This seemed the kind of pointless grandeur his family would be used to. So much for anti-Muggle security.
They passed through a field of green tents supporting the Irish and into an area of tents with the colours of the Bulgarian flag. Each tent here had a poster of a sort of grumpy-looking young man that Ron insisted was currently the greatest seeker in professional Quidditch. Ron also seemed unnecessarily offended by the fact Hermione hadn't heard of Krud, or Krum, or whatever his name was.
The sarcastic response about Ron's expectations died on her tongue as soon as they lined up for the tap, right behind an old wizard wearing a flowery, Muggle women's-style nightgown. He was arguing with a Ministry official who waved a pair of pinstriped trousers in his face, but Hermione missed the conversation in a fit of giggles that had her briefly stepping out of queue to get herself under control.
Upon returning to their campsite, Hermione helped Mr. Weasley start the fire without magic so that he could cook up eggs and sausages for lunch. Over the course of the afternoon, she met several other witches and wizards from the Ministry that stopped by to talk to Mr. Weasley, most notably Ludo Bagman and Barty Crouch. Percy, despite making his unfavourable opinion about Bagman well-known the night before, ran to shake Bagman's hand, and positively fussed over Crouch, the head of his department, when he came around next, looking severe in a crisp suit and tie.
Not long after Crouch and Bagman left, it was time to go to the stadium for the start of the Cup. The excitement around the campsite was almost palpable as the crowd made their way to the field where the stadium had been erected. On the way, Harry bought Hermione and Ron each a spectacular pair of Omnioculars, and Hermione decided to buy them all programs, mostly so that she'd at least have something to read if this match stretched into multiple days like the last one.
The stadium itself was enormous, and Hermione had to admit, quite impressive-looking. Their seats were in the Top Box itself, set at the highest point of the stadium and exactly mid-field. The only other occupant in their box so far was a house-elf named Winky. Between learning about Dobby's previous treatment and all that time last year helping Hagrid with Buckbeak's case, Hermione had given a lot of thought to the rights of magical beings and creatures. That thinking had recently taken the back seat to more pressing issues, but one look at Winky's terrified face at being up so high had Hermione considering again how to go about organising a campaign.
Hermione was so lost in thought that she was caught completely unaware by the newest arrivals to the box. Cornelius Fudge had been struggling to communicate with the Bulgarian minister when Lucius Malfoy swept into the row behind her, followed closely by Draco Malfoy and his mother.
She had never seen his mother up close. Mrs. Malfoy, a tall, slim woman, was almost as white-blonde as her son and husband. While Lucius introduced his family to the Minister, Hermione stared intently, again finding herself unable to look away.
Draco Malfoy looked a great deal like his father, but he had something of his mother too, which softened his features. As she looked closer, she thought perhaps Malfoy would look even more like his mother if he ever grew tired of trying to emulate his father's haughty expressions.
Hermione must have been staring a little too hard, as Mr. Malfoy's cold eyes snapped to her briefly, and condescendingly, before he gave a curt nod to Mr. Weasley and continued to move down the row to their seats. Draco's eyes swept disdainfully over Hermione, Ron, and Harry as he moved past to follow his father.
Just then, Ludo Bagman rushed in to commence the World Cup. Hermione turned back around in her seat to watch the mascots for the Irish and Bulgarian teams, and actually had to stop the boys from trying to jump out of the box when the veela performed for Bulgaria. She snuck a peek sideways to see Narcissa Malfoy shoving a program in front of Draco's face under the pretence of showing him something within it.
Once the clamour for fool's gold from the Irish mascots died down, the qualifying teams were introduced. The Bulgarians streaked by first, almost too fast to see on their broomsticks. At the appearance of Viktor Krum, the crowd roared impossibly louder. Hermione turned her Omnioculars to follow the blur that was Krum for a moment. If anyone had ever looked more comfortable on a broomstick than they did on the ground, it was him.
Once the match began and everyone was thoroughly engrossed in the impossibly fast gameplay, Hermione turned covertly to observe Malfoy. His gaze on the match before him was rapturous. He played Seeker for the Slytherin team at school, but she'd always assumed he joined the team either because his father wanted him to or because Harry played seeker for Gryffindor. Maybe both. Looking at him now, it was obvious he loved the sport. Every time Ireland scored or Bulgaria lost the Quaffle, he was on the edge of his seat, gripping the armrests hard enough to turn his knuckles white. He even jumped up out of his seat when Krum dove into a feint that sent the Irish seeker into a crash and paused the game.
Hermione wasn't a great judge of such things, but from the few times she had seen Malfoy fly at school, he seemed to be almost as good as, if not equal to, Harry on a broom. She supposed he had been able to practice whenever he wanted growing up on his estate. Did he enjoy flying enough to do it in his spare time, same as Harry and Ron? It was too bad that Hermione's broomstick flying skills left much to be desired. Not that she could simply walk on to the Hogwarts' Quidditch pitch and offer to fly around with Malfoy anyway — the very idea was ludicrous.
At least she had something else to go on about Malfoy now. The little she knew about him came mostly from unpleasant interactions between him and Harry. Apart from that, he shared a few of her classes, including her Arithmancy elective without Harry and Ron.
Suddenly, Hermione realised that Harry and the Weasleys all had their fingers crammed into their ears as the veela were dancing again. To her great amusement, she noticed that the referee had actually landed in front of the veela and was trying to show off. It took several tugs on Harry's elbow to get him to notice.
The game after that reached a shocking level of intensity — even the team mascots had to be separated from fighting. Hermione stole another sidelong glance at Malfoy when Krum got hit in the face with a Bludger, and he groaned along with the rest of the crowd and put his face in his hands. Malfoy looked up quickly, though, as the crowd gasped at the Irish Seeker's sudden dive.
Despite the other Seeker's head start, Krum managed to fly through a face full of blood and snag the snitch to end the game. Hermione jumped out of her seat this time too, applauding and shouting with everyone else. She thought Krum had been very brave to take on that dive and catch the snitch after just having his nose broken. He looked a terrible mess.
Abruptly, the entire Top Box was illuminated and Fudge had an enormous trophy in his hands. The Bulgarian team, including a still very-bloody Krum, filed in between the seats. The Irish team came in next to accept the Cup. Malfoy was applauding just as hard as anybody else, his face still flushed with excitement and his hair in disarray. He was much more pleasant to look at without a sneer twisting his face.
Once the Top Box went comparatively dark again, Lucius Malfoy steered his family over to corner Fudge and the Bulgarian minister for another conversation. Looking back over her shoulder only once, Hermione let herself be swept along by the crowd with Harry and the Weasleys down the purple-carpeted stairs and back to the campsite.
No one felt like sleeping when they reached the tents, so Mr. Weasley allowed them to stay up, discussing the match over hot cocoas. Hermione didn't have much to add, but enjoyed cupping her warm mug in her hands and listening to the passionate discussions going on around her.
Eventually, Ginny fell asleep at the table and spilled her drink, so she and Hermione decided to walk wearily over to the next tent, where they changed into pyjamas and climbed into their bunk. The noise around their campsite hadn't decreased at all, and Hermione wondered if she would even be able to sleep. If anything, the buzz seemed to be growing louder. Somewhere the post-match revelry seemed to have turned into arguments, as Hermione was sure she could hear bangs and shouting now.
Only minutes later, Mr. Weasley crashed into the tent, startling Hermione and Ginny fully awake, urging them to grab their wands and coats and get outside as quickly as possible. Something was wrong, he told them. They needed to get to safety.
Hermione ducked out of the tent to pandemonium. People were running and shouting in every direction. Across the field, masked and hooded figures marched slowly through the campsite. There were figures struggling in the air above them, and the crowd congregating around it all emitted bangs and flashes of light. Flames spread outward, quickly enveloping nearby tents. Mr. Weasley and the eldest three Weasley brothers dashed off to assist the Ministry's attempt to quell the mayhem, giving instructions to everyone else to get to the woods and hide.
Despite the blazes starting up all over, the darkness was complete enough that Hermione stumbled frequently as she ran. It was absolute chaos. Once she reached the forest, gnarled tree roots made it even more hazardous. Hermione was buffeted back and forth between strangers fleeing in the same direction while trying to dodge twisting an ankle. She held her wand tightly in hand, not wanting to be caught off guard. As the crowd dispersed into the trees, she swivelled quickly to look for Harry, who she was sure had been just behind her, and caught a flash of pale blonde in the moonlight.
Her toe caught on a root sticking up out of the ground and Hermione went sprawling. She flung her hands out in front of her before her face could meet the dirt, dropping her wand in the process.
With a sigh of resignation, she pushed up to her knees to begin the search for her wand. The forest was eerily quiet after the commotion in the clearing, except for the odd echoing bang or flash of green light. The loss of the panicked crowd made her surprisingly uneasy, her ears still ringing with their frantic voices. She finally caught sight of her wand, and started to reach out at the same time that a dragonhide boot stepped casually in front of it.
Hermione lurched to her feet. Ron and Harry were nowhere to be seen, but Draco Malfoy was now leaning casually against a tree trunk not three feet away, twisting her wand between his fingers. He was looking down as if in thought, but appeared relaxed despite the tumult happening nearby.
Fuelled by a rush of adrenaline, she barely hesitated before hastily stepping forward to swipe her wand out of his hand. There was little to no resistance. Malfoy did look up then, eyes glowing with amusement as he held his hands up in the air, empty palms facing her innocently.
"Easy there, Granger," he drawled in mock sincerity. "No need to attack me again."
Hermione huffed in annoyance and wrapped her coat more tightly over her nightdress. "I wasn't attacking you, Malfoy. Surely you can understand why I would like possession of my own wand tonight. And you deserved it the first time," she added after a moment.
"Oh ho, feisty there," he smirked. "Yes, I can understand why you'd want it. They're after Muggles, you know. Hang around much longer and you can show off your knickers in midair with the others."
"Oh, very funny," Hermione scoffed, her annoyance overriding her sense of caution. "Is that the best you can do? 'Hermione Granger's a Muggleborn which makes her inherently inferior to my superior blood'," Hermione said in imitation of Malfoy's imperious drawl. "Funny how that Pureblood supremacy doesn't do you any favours with your spellwork, even with years more practice under your belt."
Malfoy's cool grey eyes glittered in the moonlight and the smirk dropped off his face. He straightened. "Watch yourself, Granger. Anyone can memorise books. Your getting better marks at school doesn't mean anything in the end."
"No, maybe not," she sighed, looking around again to see if Harry and Ron had doubled back.
"Lost Potter and Weasley, have you?"
"I—" Hermione broke off, ears pricked at the sound of twigs snapping somewhere in the dark behind Malfoy. She raised her wand and peered intently through the blackness. Malfoy must have thought she was about to hex him, for his eyes widened and he stepped back quickly.
Suddenly, a figure emerged from the darkness. A hooded and masked figure. Malfoy finally heard the stranger's arrival, too, and turned while drawing his own wand. Except, when Malfoy saw who had appeared through the trees, he lowered his wand. Odd.
The newcomer had their wand pointed straight at her chest. They said nothing at all, just stood silently, making an imposing figure against the night. Hermione prepared to defend herself, mentally running through anything and everything she had learned in Defence Against the Dark Arts class that would get her out of this in one piece.
The stranger looked back and forth at her and Malfoy in turns, but kept their wand steady on Hermione. A quick glance at Malfoy, who also appeared to be splitting his attention between Hermione and the stranger, showed a moderately calculating look on his face. Her eyes darted to the stranger again and back, just in time to see Malfoy's expression smooth into a sort of grim determination. He also remained silent.
Wand quivering slightly between her trembling fingers, Hermione returned her focus directly to the threat head, hardly daring to blink. Should she take her chances and run? Should she fire a defensive spell first? Were more of these masked strangers on their way to join this one? She'd need to decide quickly—
From the corner of her eye, Hermione thought she saw Malfoy give an almost imperceptible shake of his head.
The stranger hesitated a moment longer, then abruptly turned and disappeared back into the darkness. Hermione kept her wand raised, disbelieving that the threat was gone. Malfoy just watched her and casually leaned back against the tree with his hands in the pockets of his trousers.
She exhaled shakily. "Was that—" her voice broke. She cleared her throat. "Did you… did you know them?"
"Well, if I did, I wouldn't be likely to tell you, now would I?" he replied with a tight smile.
She finally lowered her wand. "Well… yes. Right." Hermione shivered in the night air in spite of herself and crossed her arms over her coat. "Um… Thank you. I mean— no, I mean thank you. I knew you wouldn't…"
Malfoy just watched her as she rambled, confusion evident on his face.
All at once, the darkness broke as a great, glittering green symbol burst into the sky. It looked like a huge skull with a snake coming out from its mouth. Hermione recognised it immediately; the Dark Mark. Voldemort's sign. She had read about it in The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts.
Malfoy jolted off the tree and upright, looking at the sky with concern. Hermione had a strong sense of déjà vu as Malfoy's face was illuminated in the greenish glow cast from the sign. Screams burst out from the woods around them as unseen people realised what it meant.
She needed to find Harry and the Weasleys. They wouldn't leave without her, but getting out of here was even more important now. Hermione turned to leave, but paused unwillingly, looking back over her shoulder at Malfoy.
"I have to… I'm staying here," he said decidedly, before she could form whatever question she had intended to ask about leaving.
He looked resolved. Or maybe resigned. She nodded and took a step, only to stop once more, hesitating.
"I'm sure, Granger," Malfoy said forcibly, interjecting again before she'd decided what to say.
Grey eyes met brown for a long moment before Hermione shrugged and set off, moving quickly in the direction she had been going before falling.
It felt like she'd been walking through the woods for ages, but Hermione finally spotted a few red heads interspersed throughout a group of Ministry officials. They appeared to be crowded around something. Ron was the first to notice her. He tugged on Harry's arm and they broke out from the group, running over to meet her.
"Hermione!" Ron exclaimed. "There you are. Where are the others?"
"The others?" she asked, brows knitting in confusion.
"Yeah, we thought you'd split off with Fred, George, and Ginny," Harry explained.
"No," Hermione replied. "I got separated from you and Ron, then I fell and dropped my wand. By the time I found it, I had no idea where you'd gone." She left out the part about running into Malfoy.
Harry and Ron looked horrified at the discovery, hurrying to make sure she was unhurt. Mr. Weasley came over then, looking relieved at her appearance, but also asking about the twins and Ginny. When he realised she was alone, he corralled them briskly towards their campsite, anxious to see if the others had already gone back.
"Blimey, Hermione," Ron said as they walked. "I feel like a right git for leaving you out there alone…"
"You didn't know, Ron. It's alright," Hermione soothed. "Besides, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself." Thinking back on facing the masked figure, she said that last bit a good deal more confidently than she felt.
"I'm glad you're alright, in any case," Harry said seriously. "Speaking of losing wands…"
On the way back to the tents, Harry and Ron filled her in on everything that had happened while they were separated. Harry losing his wand. The Dark Mark being cast nearby, so close that they were almost caught in the crossfire when the Ministry appeared. Harry's wand being found in the hands of Winky the house-elf, and the wand itself proven to have cast the Dark Mark.
Hermione shrieked indignantly when she learned that the subject of all those Ministry Officials' attention had been Winky, and for what reason. She couldn't believe Crouch could be so cruel as to dismiss Winky for something clearly not her fault. The treatment of house-elves was truly reprehensible.
The others had indeed made it back to the tents, and after a quick discussion of the night's events, Mr. Weasley wasted no time chivying everyone to their beds. He planned to try setting up an early Portkey in the morning and wanted to catch a few hours of rest before the inevitable fallout of this news reaching the general wizarding population.
Hermione sunk into the cot with her head still buzzing. Her thoughts flickered disconnectedly between Winky, the Dark Mark, and Malfoy.
Though Malfoy wouldn't admit it, Hermione was certain he'd known the person in the mask. Could the masked person have been one of his parents? One of his friends?
More importantly, had Malfoy somehow spared her tonight? As she recalled their encounter over again, Hermione was growing more and more certain that the stranger hadn't attacked her only because of him.
Still, Malfoy hadn't exactly been nice to her, but they'd seemed to reach some sort of understanding after the Mark was conjured. She didn't know what to make of the interaction right now, and with her thoughts so disjointed and skipping all over the place, she was having trouble thinking coherently enough to remember why she wanted to figure that out in the first place.
Hermione closed her eyes, focusing on her breathing. It wasn't long before she felt the familiar pull of the world of dreams, her thoughts beginning to blur into a strangeness that in her current state, didn't seem so strange at all. She let herself sink further into the sensation, quelling her desire to over-analyse the interaction for now; maybe after a few hours rest she would be able to sort things out.