Sixth year began in much the same way it had ever since Harry and Ron missed the train back in Second year - with Hermione wondering how many days before she developed a stress induced rash. Maybe she should have made a betting system, so at least there would be some gain involved, but alas, it was too late for that now. There was only one more start of year left. Silver linings, Hermione.
Despite Harry turning up to the Welcome Feast covered in blood(queue rising blood pressure), Hermione had to admit that she was happy to be back home, surrounded by ginger hair, delicious food and so much magic it made her head spin.
Her summer holiday had been a bit of a nightmare to be honest. Her parents had booked them a trip away to Italy, which normally would have brought a smile to her face as she frantically planned which books she would have to leave behind, and whether the ministry would really notice if she placed just a teeny tiny extension charm on her suitcase. She had missed her parents frightfully, especially after the battle at the ministry. She remembered trying to fend off Nott Sr, and instead of thinking through spells and protections, the only thought that went through her brain was 'I want my mum.' She'd like to see a Death Eater try and hurt her with her mother around. She'd have clipped them up the back of the head and asked just where they thought their manners had got to, a hand on one hip and the signature raised eyebrow that Hermione so enviously tried to replicate.
The flipside of her mother's ferocity, unfortunately, was the exact reason why she couldn't enjoy her holiday in the sunshine. If they had caught even a whiff of the purple, raised scar on her abdomen, rippling out across her chest in all directions from it's epicentre, she would have snapped Hermione's wand herself and refused to allow her to ever step back into Hogwarts' hallowed halls.
Thus, Hermione was forced to feign a two week long period, cramps and all, instead of tanning and peeking glances at the Italian men that walked by. Who was she kidding, of course she still peeked. The worst part was probably all the doctors appointments she got marched to the second they were back on British soil.
What a bleeding nightmare. Har har.
Therefore, it was a massive relief to be back amongst her magical peers, able to discuss the inner workings of her world without fear of being dragged out of it by the ponytail. Feeling charitable, she gave Ron's arm a hug as she sat next to him after spending her time chatting to Ginny.
Slightly confused, but generously patting Hermione on the head quickly, Ron reached for thirds of dessert. The time apart had helped her to observe this fondly. Letting go, she turned back to Harry, who was pushing his food around the plate with a scowl on his face.
'Harry, please just eat something,' Hermione pleaded. 'I'll listen all you want about Malfoy, but only if you at least take a bite of food.'
Grumbling, Harry obliged, and Hermione was able to slightly relax her mother hen status. She took the momentary lull to observe the aforementioned Slytherin and his gang.
She could, begrudgingly, accept Harry's point that something was wrong with Malfoy. While his friends laughed and joked around him, clearly happy to be reunited after the summer, Malfoy was completely disengaged. He pushed food around his plate, the mirror image of Harry seconds ago, while his eyebrows were furrowed in deep thought. Lines appeared beside the bridge of his nose, and his mouth was slightly downturned. Already fairly lean, he appeared to have lost some weight. Not a noticeable amount but, well, Hermione was unfortunately often in a position to stare at him, giving her insight to the subtle changes in his body. If Harry wasn't pointing him out, or his friends causing chaos, then she was surreptitiously checking his position in order to maintain her own safety. It was purely a necessity that she stared, she had convinced herself of that long ago.
His friends had seemed to notice, at least. Theo was covertly placing some of Malfoy's favourite foods onto his plate, while Blaise seemed to be trying to engage him in conversation. Malfoy was having none of it. Shoving his plate away from him, he stood up abruptly and headed towards the doors to the great hall. On his way, his eyes flickered over to the Gryffidor table, and caught Hermione's eye before she could look away.
If anything, his frown deepened, before he shoved his way through the doors and out of the hall. How strange. It's not like she had done anything to offend him. If anything, she should be the one frowning at him. How dare he leave her such a cryptic note last year. She had spent all summer obsessing over what it could have possibly meant.
Paper beats Rock, Granger.
Was he implying she was paper? That she could weather the storm. Was that wishful thinking? And why leave it under her pillow? That meant he had come to visit her right? Had he simply sneaked in after hours, shoved it under her pillow and left, or had he sat down beside her for a while. Maybe he whispered an explanation while she was out cold, explaining that yes, he did have his own mind, and he was ready to expand his views. The medical ward could be quite peaceful, maybe he had stayed and opened a book, eyes flickering over the edge every so often to check on her. Or to make sure no-one could see him. Did he hear the news of her injury and worry about her, or did he only think of his father's capture?
Jesus Christ. Only day one and here she was being as hyper-focused as normal. Hermione: 0, Slytherins: 1.
A few hours later, Hermione was tucked up in her favourite armchair, the one closest to the fireplace, dutifully fulfilling her promise to Harry. He had eaten nearly half a plate of food in the end, what a good boy. Now sit. Lie down. Paw.
She chuckled to herself.
'Okay Harry, tell me why Malfoy is the devil.'
Harry shot her a scornful look, but as she knew, he just couldn't help himself. 'Ron, tell her what we saw in Diagon Alley.' Ron opened his mouth but was immediately cut off. 'He was going down Nocturn Alley. We both know only dark wizards go down that street.'
'Harry that's really not-'
'Let me finish.' He snapped. 'He went into Borgin and Burkes, and it looked like they were fighting. Then he lifted his arm and showed him something there, and Burke just completely backed off. What the hell could he be showing if not a Dark Mark!'
Okay, Hermione could admit, that was a little suspicious, but definitely not admissible in court.
'So… you think Draco Malfoy is a Death Eater?' Hermione replied sceptically, throwing a look towards Ron who wore the face of someone who had been forced to have this conversation many, many times already.
'Yes!' Harry flopped back against the couch.
'But Harry, what would Voldemort want with a sixteen year old school boy? And I doubt it's Malfoy's charming personality that got him through that job interview.'
'That, he has no idea.' Ron filled in when Harry had no answer.
'But I'm going to find out.' Harry sounded determined, which was never a good thing in Hermione's opinion. Merlin bless him, but the mixture of hot-headedness mixed with a complete lack of commonsense was quite literally a deadly combination when it came to one Harry James Potter.
'Listen Harry, that sounds like a massive waste of time. Your obsession with - yes obsession - with Draco Malfoy is going to end badly one of these days. Need I remind you that you showed up with a recently broken nose just two hours ago?' Hermione was beyond exasperated. 'Malfoy is a sixteen year old boy, Voldemort - Ron, stop flinching it's just a name for God's sake - has absolutely zero interest in that boy. What he does have an interest in, however, is you. So I suggest you start taking your studies seriously and learn a spell other than bloody expelliarmus,' Hermione finished with a huff, glaring at Harry.
'Blimey, Hermione. It's only the first day back,' Ron quipped in a rare show of tact, desperately trying to lighten the mood. 'People don't try to kill Harry until at least March. Give the man some time.'
There was a slight pause, before the trio simultaneously caught each other's eye and began to chuckle, then laugh outright. As annoying as they could be, Hermione really had missed her boys.
Their laughter was quickly killed by the arrival of Deanny into the common room, some grotesque hybrid of Dean and Ginny, affixed at the mouth moving with a crab-like shuffle.
'That's bloody disgusting,' Ron grumbled, and a single glance at Harry's downturned mouth and clenched fists told Hermione that he was staunchly in agreement.
'Okay boys,' she sighed, 'I'm off. To all a good night.' She waved sardonically as she headed for her dorm, where she planned to draw the curtains around her bed, pick up a trashy romance novel and try to get any and all images of Dean Thomas's tongue out of her mind. Yuck.
The first few weeks of Sixth year passed in a blur. NEWT preparations were well and truly underway, and that coupled with prefect patrols had her already limited free time turned into a highly valuable commodity. Her birthday came and went with little fanfare. While turning seventeen was a big deal in the wizarding community, no-one had told her parents, who were waiting until her eighteenth birthday to get her a car. So she gratefully accepted a parcel from a disgruntled owl, containing a home-made birthday cake and various novels from her favourite authors. Ron and Harry had, she suspected, completely forgotten, but the mound of sweets they had for her at the end of the day was more than enough to show that they did care, even if they were slightly forgetful. Besides, she could finally use magic at home so nothing could ruin her good mood that day, not even Harry beating her in potions. She couldn't wait to show her father the summoning spell, he'd be so jealous that she could accio crisps without having to move from her spot in front of the telly. If she was in a generous mood, she might even summon him the odd beer. And her mum would just adore the birds she could conjure at will. She had learnt that particular spell just for her, as she knew of her mother's attachment to them.
However, her mood had nearly been soured in that same potions lesson, in an incident completely unrelated to Harry's blatant cheating (she was certain, she just needed proof). When her hand had shot violently into the air when asked who could identify the potions, Hermione couldn't wait to learn what her Amortentia would smell like.
This, above most things about magic, was what blew Hermione's gigantic mind the most. How was it possible that there was a potion that accurately depicted the smell of one's soulmate? Firstly, it indicated that soulmates, and by extension, souls were real. Something the muggle world had discounted long ago thanks to science. Secondly, how was it that people even bothered with relationships, if they could just grab a whiff of a potion and know whether they were wasting their time or not? What an efficient way to go about love. Completely risk free, no heartbreak, no lost time. And Hermione, ever efficient, had quietly admitted to herself over the holidays that her soulmate must be Ronald.
Now, hear her out.
It sounds ridiculous at first glance, what with his temper and quidditch obsession, his foggy brain and inferiority complex. But he was also genuine, friendly and outgoing. And don't opposites attract? She had felt that weird funny feeling in her stomach around him a couple of times last year after all, and they were best friends. They would perfectly balance eachother out, she had decided, once they were able to fix their communication issues. And he had such lovely blue eyes.
'It's Amortentia, Sir.' Hermione directed to Slughorn as she stepped forward. 'A powerful love potion, it smells different to every person, based on the scent of your true love.'
Flickering her eyes in Ron's direction somewhat bashfully, she leant over the steaming cauldron and waited for the familiar smell of oak, grass and detergent to hit her. But that never came.
Instead, Hermione's senses were hit by the most stunningly gorgeous smell she had ever come across. All thoughts of Ron vanished from her mind as she breathed in deeply, trying to identify the separate notes.
'For example I smell -'
Her eyes flew open. She knew that smell, but who was it?
'Fresh parchment, Sandalwood and mint toothpaste.' Her voice trailed off.
In a slight daze, she backed away from the cauldron as her peers all clamoured towards it, eager to find out what they could smell. All of them, that is, except for Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott. Malfoy was scowling at the floor, as was usual these days, while Nott seemed to be trying not to laugh, a hand pressed over his mouth and one hand on Malfoy's shoulder.
She rolled her eyes. Of course they would be laughing at her, silly Granger getting lost in the smell of Amortentia, who'd want to be stuck with her for life anyway? She could hear the Slytherins now.
Pansy was always most vicious in Hermione's imagination, she noted.
Regardless, Hermione was determined to push this revelation to the side for now. She would mull over the implications of the Amortentia tomorrow, a girl only turns seventeen once after all.
The denial of her birthday bled into the coming weeks, and Hermione had to admit to herself that ostriches had the right idea, life was pretty great when your head was buried in the sand. She ignored the mystery of her Amortentia, she ignored the increasingly frequent looks that Ronald was sending her way, she ignored Harry rambling on and on about Draco Malfoy. Most of all, she completely ignored every irrational thought that popped into her brain regarding anyone wearing a Slytherin tie. She was a woman now, the time for slightly manic obsessions was best left for girlhood. If only they'd get the memo.
In an attempt to cheer up an increasingly despondent Malfoy, his merry lads had decided to up the ante when it came to their bullying tactics. One day, it was Neville rushing through the corridors with no trousers on, another, Ron was squealing in transfiguration as a spider levitated over his head. She couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped her at that one. Less funny was the time she fell on her arse while trying to deliver her potion to Professor Slughorn. She spent the rest of the day mildly forgetful and stinking of mistletoe. Even this was not enough to snap Malfoy out of his mood, it seemed. Instead, he simply kept his head down and ignored his friends.
Just a few days before the Halloween feast and Hermione could be found in, you guessed it, her favourite spot of the library. The Arithmancy section had always been her go to, as it was an elective only offered to NEWT level students, and very few actually chose the pedantic subject. As such, the stacks were near enough abandoned, leaving Hermione to read, research and daydream in peace. The task of the day was Occlumency practice. Ever since Snape had failed to teach Harry last year, Hermione had begun her research into protecting her mind. As her best asset, she figured she owed it to herself to learn how best to fortify her walls and maintain privacy. Secretly she could also admit to herself that it was nice to best Harry in this to prove she still had the academic highground, damned half-blood prince or not.
There were plenty of different techniques to secure your mind through visualisation. At first, Hermione had assumed her mind would be best organised into a library. However, every time she tried to lock away certain memories the book would clunk to the ground from whatever shelf she had put it on, the pages blowing in non-existant wind and revealing every thought she tried to hide.
This really had her stumped. Hermione had always prided herself on being rational above emotional, keeping a level head where others would react impulsively. Of course there was the odd exception, but she could hardly be blamed for those could she?
Rita Skeeter had deserved to be kept in a jar for all those horrible things she had written.
And Malfoy was begging for a punch to the nose in third year wasn't he?
Mariette Edgecombe being scarred for life with the word 'sneak' on her forehead was a perfectly rational response to betrayal right?
Oh, for fucks sake.
Fine, maybe Hermione was slightly more emotionally driven than she liked to believe.
Eventually, she had found the visualisation tactic that worked for her. A tactic that she would very much like to stay a secret as it was in fact quite embarrassing. So hopefully no one would be rifling through her mind any time soon. Who would care what Hermione had to think anyway? She was often imparting wisdom to no avail.
Breathing deep, Hermione closed her eyes and stepped to the edge of the lake in her mind. She could feel the water lapping at her bare toes and smiled at the cooling sensation that swept over her whole body.
The lake shimmered, a bright silver colour that calmed her nerves and settled her thoughts. As she continued to walk into the lake, submerging first her knees, then her waist, she kept her eyes trained on the horizon and the sun reflecting splotches of gold onto the surface of the endless water.
Eventually fully submerged in her lake, she began to walk across the bedrock as she went deeper and deeper into her mind, the lake causing her hair to wave languidly behind her.
She walked around rocks, stepped over pebbles and manoeuvred around boulders, each representing memories, thoughts and feelings in her mind. The heavier the rock, the more important the treasure it was guarding.
Pebbles for her school work, easily accessible and light enough to bring to the surface with ease.
Rocks for her happy memories with friends, such as the late nights at the burrow, hands wrapped around hot chocolate as she listened with rapt attention to Charlie recounting his time at the dragon reserves. Or her 10th birthday, the last she's had with her parents before she found out she was a witch. They had gone to the cinema, followed by the book store before heading home to order her favourite take-away and watch game shows.
Boulders, they were for her harsher memories. Things like the battle at the DoM last year, or her time in third year isolated from her best friends for trying to do what was right.
And the fish that darted in and out of her peripheral vision, never quite making themselves known, contained her darkest thoughts and feelings. The things she was most ashamed of. Her anger towards Dumbledore for putting Harry in such dangerous situations. The pain she felt the first time Malfoy had called her a Mudblood. The fear she felt when she realised that she would probably always face prejudice in a world that had at first felt like such a fairy tale, a dream come true.
Focusing her attention, Hermione walked towards a rock lying at the bottom of the lake next to her. Picking it up, she focused on pushing her frustration at Harry's obsession with Malfoy into the solid weight in her hand, before letting it drop slowly to the lake floor, its heavy body ensuring it could not rise to the surface unless she wanted it to.
She was jolted back to reality by the sound of a curse as a thud hit the floor by her table. It took her a moment to shake the phantom lake water from her vision, before it settled on to one Theodore Nott.
He was crouched by her desk, arithmancy books scattered on the floor around him. Curiously, she noted they were all focused on the mathematics of magical objects. She raised an eyebrow at him as he began to pick up his books, dumping them unceremoniously onto the table her work was spread across.
Her incredulity only rose as he slumped into the chair beside her, running his hands through the mop of hair on his head.
'Can I help you, Nott?' She enquired, completely baffled as to why the Slytherin who had not said so much as a word to her in six years was now looking at her expectantly.
'Help me, Granger? Oh no, nono. The real question is, how can I help you?' He grinned at her, and she noticed the green flecks in his hazel eyes due to his proximity to her.
She shuffled back in her chair, completely perturbed. He, however, was most definitely not. Nott. Ha. Jesus help her.
'Go on then Granger, ask me how I can help you.' He straightened in his chair, looking at her expectantly.
She took a deep breath, idly wondering which boulder she would be shoving this memory into when he left.
'Okay Nott, how can you help me?' Honestly, the weirdest part of this conversation was the fact that he was not insulting her. Although, looking back now, she could admit that he had never once used the M word himself, only seeming to partake in the more childish teasing when his Slytherin friends chose her as their target.
'Great question Granger. I am here to become your new best friend!' He held up his arms as if he had made a grand gesture, one she should be hugging him for.
'Excuse me?' Hermione just blinked at him.
He dropped his arms to his sides. 'Listen closely Granger. We both know you're way too smart for the wonder boys, way too devious for the Gryffindors, and way too uptight to make new friends yourself. So, being the charming, sweet guy that I am, I have decided to take matters into my own hands.'
'I am not uptight!' Hermione whispered furiously towards him, eyes darting around to make sure no-one could see her in such close proximity to the Slytherin. Too smart for Harry and Ron? Definitely. Too devious for Gryffindor? She personally felt that she had all the qualities to thrive in any house. She was, afterall, pretty great. But too uptight? Now that was crossing a line. She was easy breezy, a feather in the wind, the life of the pa-
Maybe that was too far, but uptight?!
'Relax will you?' Nott grinned at her, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. 'I can see you winding yourself tighter by the second.'
Theodore Nott, what the hell are you doing here?' She hissed, losing her patience.
'Okay, okay, okay. Listen, I've been wanting to introduce myself for a while now. But with all of the… tensions at play, it never seemed quite right. I mean, we are first and second in every class. We both put up with idiots on a regular basis. And, I feel that we can help each other.'
'Tensions meaning you and your friends constantly picking on me for things I cannot control.' Hermione replied.
'Well, to be fair to Pansy, you could at least try and do something about those eyebrows.' Hermione was not. Impressed. At. All.
'Merlin, tough crowd.' He grinned once more. It made her wonder why he was so content to fade into the background around his friends. The Theodore Nott that the rest of school saw was quiet, meek, and studious. But this Theodore Nott seemed outspoken, charming and (she admitted grudgingly) kind of funny.
'My eyebrows are -'
'Theo, where the hell are you with those bastard books? I don't have all fucking day.' Draco Malfoy called as he turned the corner into the stacks, before stopping short when he saw who exactly was holding his friend up.
'Theo, what the hell?' He asked, his hands balling into fists at his sides as he glared between the pair, evidently unsure who to be more angry with.
Hermione dropped her head to the desk with an audible thump, saying 'I'm going to have to find a bigger rock.'
'You're an odd one aren't you Herms,' she heard Theo say, before she jolted upright as she felt him pat her on the back. That nickname was the least of her worries right now, but make no mistake she would be doubling back to it.
The sight of Malfoy made her mouth dry up. He was not looking good at all. She barely saw him in class anymore, not that she looked. Of course not. But she could see why he might not be so interested in charms class lately. He looked like shit. Dark circles bruised his under-eyes, and his strong seekers build was beginning to fade, leaving his clothes slightly too big on him. His hair fell into his eyes, and there was no trace of his signature hair gel. Despite all of this, he still held his head high, almost daring anyone to question him. The look in his eyes, while tired, showed determination and assurance. Eyes that Hermione couldn't seem to look away from. The cupboard last year had been dark, and she had had her fight or flight response severely triggered, so she hadn't noticed just how blue they were. So blue they were almost grey, nearly all colour leached from them. But instead of looking creepy, it was hypnotic. Almost like the colour had been hand created for him, chosen specifically to compliment his hair and skin tone, bring out the whites of his teeth and the dark stain of his lips. Huh.
She was shaken from her musings by his harsh snap of 'Theo, lets go you prick. What the hell are you doing with this Mud-'
'Ah ah ah, Drake. I'll have none of those foul words anymore thank you.' Theo even wagged his finger in Malfoy's face, which Hermione would have found hilarious if she wasn't so in shock from the last five minutes. 'Granger here is my new friend, and that is no way to speak to a lady.'
Malfoy snorted, and Hermione glared at him and his stupid, beautiful eyes.
'Stop being an idiot, Theo. Let's go, it's nearly dinner time.' At that, Malfoy snatched the books Theo had gathered from the table and turned to leave.
'It's been fun Granger,' Theo turned to her, 'but duty calls.' He raised his voice slightly. 'Alas, I never got you to teach me all of those super fun muggle games you know yet.' Malfoy missed a step as he walked away, almost tripping over thin air. But he righted himself quickly and disappeared from view.
'I'm so going to pay for that later,' Theo chuckled as he pushed himself up from his seat with a groan, before winking at her and following after Malfoy.
Hermione remained frozen in place. Malfoy had told Nott. Draco Malfoy had told Theodore Nott about their time in the cupboard. The time that Hermione had resolutely refused to think about, what with being a grown up seventeen year old and all. That time that she had not even told Harry and Ron about. Somehow, it had felt like a secret. Something for them to take to their graves. A temporary truce, a ceasefire, destined to end with the rising sun. She had assumed it would be Malfoy's biggest shame, something to repress and move on from. The note was surely just a minor lapse in judgement, the stress of his father getting to him.
So why had he told Theodore Nott?
Was it to ridicule her? Bitch about the silly muggle games Hermione had introduced to him. A way to continue their slander of her, new material to rip to shreds.
But if that was so, surely he would have found Theodore's comment as he left funny. Certainly wouldn't have frozen for a heartbeat, like he had been taken off kilter.
And was Theodore Nott her best friend now? How did best friends work? No one had ever declared themselves her best friend before, so technically he was filling a vacancy. Not treading on anyone's toes in her regard. But that was ridiculous right? You couldn't just declare something and have it be so. Well, except dibs. Were friendships like dibs? Damn Harry and Ron for being her only real friends, they were absolutely no help. It's not like she could fight a troll with everyone she wanted to be friends with. Oh god, would Theodore Nott bring her a troll?
Having successfully analysed every worst case scenario, Hermione confidently could say that the run in with Theodore Nott yesterday was nothing more than a fluke. A way to rile up Malfoy, who he had known would come to find him eventually. Nothing more, nothing less. However, her Slytherin obsession was reaching all new heights with this latest development. She swore she saw them everywhere she went. Her brain was on par with Harry's now. What a hypocrite she was.
This theory was blown to smithereens when, in Arithmancy, instead of taking his usual seat next to Malfoy, Theodore Nott plopped down into the empty seat next to Hermione and began to unpack his things.
Hermione couldn't help the groan that escaped her, catching the eye of Dean Thomas, the only other Gryffindor in this elective. He looked at her in alarm as Nott swung his arm over his head and left it to rest on the back of her chair. Keeping eye contact with Dean, she slammed her elbow backwards into Nott's arm, knocking it away from her.
'Now now, Herms. Is that any way to treat your best friend?' Nott said, amusement lacing his words.
'For fucks sake, Nott. You're going to give Malfoy an aneurysm.' She gestured to where Malfoy was glowering at the pair of them, unknowingly bending his quill to near breaking in his hands.
'Eh, maybe it will knock some courage into him. And please, call me Theo.'
'What does Malfoy need courage for? Surely you Slytherins can get anything you want through your cunning.' She said, half joking. Great, now she was joking with him.
Hermione: -1000, Slytherin: 2
'Aw Herms, was that a compliment?'
'Don't get ahead of yourself.'
'Malfoy's just jealous Herms, don't worry about him.' Theo said, and from the way Malfoy's eye twitched, it was clear he could hear every word. Maybe this would be fun. The unflappable Malfoy was definitely flapping away this year. But she did feel a little twinge of guilt, as she noticed the gaunt look Malfoy had developed was deepening, his focus nearly obliterated in class where once he was on an academic par with herself and Theo. Nott. Theodore. Whatever.
'Okay sure,' she rolled her eyes. But, lowering her tone, she leaned in. 'What's the deal with him anyway this year? He looks like… I don't know.'
'Like the Bloody Baron and Peeves had a love child?' Hermione couldn't hold back the snort that escaped if she wanted to, causing Theo to smile wide, pleased at getting a laugh from her.
'It's not my secret to tell I'm afraid,' Theo continued. 'But you're not wrong, he looks like crap. I keep telling him, Malfoy, you need to find stress relief, all that worrying and research is going to leave you infertile.'
'Research? What research?' Hermmione snapped her eyes to Theo, who seemed to realise he might have said too much, but was saved by the entrance of Professor Vector and the beginning of their lecture.
Hermione could hardly concentrate on the class, which was very out of character for her. What research could Malfoy possibly be doing to leave him that gaunt. It couldn't be school related, as Hermione would be the first to drive herself to near death over homework, and she had found all their NEWT prep so far this year to be pretty tame. Her eyes kept finding Malfoy, who now sat next to Zabini. Less studious, Zabini kept trying to engage Malfoy in conversation, but was continuously blanked. Instead, Malfoy seemed almost determined to blow Hermione up from where she sat with the severity of his glare. She gulped, quickly looking back to her work. Was he truly this upset over Theo choosing to sit with her rather than him? It's not like she had a say in this. She was quickly learning that Theo did whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. So surely Malfoy should be glaring holes into his head instead.
Thinking back, she wondered whether the books Theo had been gathering yesterday were anything to do with whatever research Malfoy was supposedly involved in. What was it again? The mathematics behind the creation of magical objects? Did Malfoy fancy himself as an inventor? He certainly had the glint in his eye required of any mad scientist worth their salt. She had sudden, vivid images of Malfoy with a Frankenstein's monster style being, using it to make all his insults up for him. Malfoy's monster. Blah blah mudblood, blah blah blood traitor, blah blah rock paper scissors.
The weekend could not come quick enough.