Tuesday, 27 October 1998
Sitting across from Ginny during breakfast, Hermione genuinely wondered whether she was allowed to think that, lately, being around her dear friend had become a much more unpleasant experience than being around Draco Malfoy. It was a thought that worried her. As fate would have it, the Head Boy was, of course, the biggest reason for the redhead's recent foul moods.
Ever since Ginny had discovered that Malfoy had booked the Quidditch pitch every single morning of every single day for the weeks leading up to the first match of the year, she had been stomping around the castle in anger. It hadn't helped that Hermione had pointed out that Ginny had initially done the exact same thing to the Slytherin team. She had received a deathly glare in return.
It wasn't that Hermione failed to understand the importance Quidditch held for her younger friend, but she wished Ginny would have a more friendly and less competitive approach. She knew it was her only proper distraction from the fact that George still wasn't doing well, and on top of that she was dealing with immense pressure regarding her position on the team. She did, after all, succeed none other than Harry Potter as the team's Captain. It was the same pressure little Emily was feeling.
The fourth-year Gryffindor had immediately forgiven Ginny for making misleading promises regarding the game's safety. The girl had recovered within a day, and she had admitted that it had given her quite a thrill to be the topic of gossip around Hogwarts. She had admitted that she was afraid of disappointing the supporters, because while she was a skilled Seeker, she knew she was in no way as good as Harry had been.
Malfoy was a different story entirely. Ever since their heart-to-heart conversation the week before, his attitude had actually become quite civil. Though they had both avoided anything that couldn't be considered a shallow conversation, Hermione was happy with the development, even though she still felt embarrassed when she thought of how she had cried in his arms.
"I'm heading down to the dungeons," Hermione commented after a quick glance at her wristwatch and determining that it was nearly time for her Potions class. She looked up at her grumpy red-haired friend. "Will you be at Slughorn's pre-Halloween dinner party tonight?"
"I don't know," Ginny answered curtly. "We don't have training tonight because of the predicted thunderstorm but I'm not really in the mood for a lovely get-together."
Hermione stood up and swung her bag over her shoulder. "Well, should you change your mind, Professor Slughorn asked me to pick up a certain Valmai Morgan at the gates around six," she said nonchalantly, as though what she had just announced was as uninteresting as discussing the weather.
Ginny's head snapped up at the mention of one of her favourite Quidditch players, and she stared at the older girl with wide eyes that twinkled with excitement. "You're joking," she exclaimed.
"That sounds as though you have changed your mind already," Hermione teased, happy that her announcement had managed to cheer Ginny up a bit. "So, I'll see you tonight, then?"
"I—Yes, maybe. I think so," the redhead sighed, and Hermione knew her well enough to accept the answer as a guaranteed presence. She waved and turned around, heading for the dungeons.
She had a friendly chat with Mandy and Morag while waiting for the door of the Potions classroom to open. From the corner of her eye she saw Malfoy and Greengrass, who were engaged in a serious-looking conversation. After a few minutes, Professor Slughorn arrived and let his students into the classroom. Hermione was the first to reach their table. She opened her bag and started taking out her things as she listened carefully to the muffled conversation between her two Potions partners.
"How could this happen again? You promised me you would stay with her at all times."
"Don't you think I did? Besides, it doesn't matter whether I do, last time I was there too, remember?"
"What about Zabini?"
"I don't know, Malfoy. He's been sulking around again for days."
Greengrass put her bag down on the table with quite a loud bang. She stood with her stomach pressed against the table, impatiently waiting for Malfoy to pass. When he reached his own seat, she roughly pulled her chair backwards and sat down with a heavy sigh.
"So you're telling me she had an unstoppable nosebleed," Malfoy repeated, staring at his classmate with a frown.
Greengrass nodded. "Yes, it literally gushed out of her nose. I tried every counter-spell I could think of but those only seemed to make it worse. I had to drag her up to the hospital wing because she had lost so much blood already that she had lost consciousness. Pomfrey said she had no idea what she was dealing with, so she has to stay until at least tomorrow and take Blood-Replenishing Potions ever thirty minutes."
Hermione frowned at them with worry and gasped when Greengrass described the symptoms. "Nosebleed Nougat," she breathed.
Both Malfoy and Greengrass fell silent and turned their attention to her. "What's that, Granger?" the blonde said irritably. "If you want to contribute to a conversation, do speak up, will you?"
"Nosebleed Nougat," Hermione repeated a little louder. "That's what you're describing: the symptoms of Nosebleed Nougat."
"Isn't that one of those sweets the Weasel twins developed for those truancy boxes?" Malfoy asked grumpily. "Aren't they supposed to be harmless?"
"They are," she answered quickly, "but a few years ago, when they were still being tested, they accidentally gave someone a Blood Blisterpod instead of the curing sweet, and it made it a whole lot worse. I think that's what caused the unstoppable nosebleed."
She conveniently left out the fact that it had been Katie Bell who had suffered from the test phase of the Weasley sweets. Any mention of the former Gryffindor girl might possibly cause drastic changes to her current truce with Malfoy, something Hermione would rather avoid.
The two Slytherin students glanced at each other for a moment before Greengrass resolutely pushed her chair backwards and grabbed her bag from the table. "Well then, I better go inform Pomfrey."
"What?" Malfoy said in surprise. "No, you should stay here. I'm the Head Boy, I'll go."
"You left me alone with her," the blonde girl hissed with an angry frown, pointing her finger at Hermione, "during all our library get-togethers. Now it's my turn to get a break. Don't expect me to come back." With that, she walked up to Professor Slughorn to excuse herself.
Her female Potions partner's words left Hermione feeling quite insulted. She glared at Greengrass' back as the girl explained herself to the Potions Master before whirling around and hurrying out of the classroom. She then glanced at Malfoy, who had been staring after his classmate as well. His expression was a mixture of surprise and insult.
"I take it Parkinson has been victim to another attack?" Hermione inquired softly.
"How do you know about those attacks?" Malfoy muttered, a dark look on his face.
She shrugged. "I'm the Head Girl. Isn't it my duty to be informed about such incidents?"
Malfoy shrugged as well and took out his Potions essay and a book. Hermione studied his face out of the corner of her eye and noticed that he made a rather crestfallen impression. He must be really worried about Parkinson. She thought of Ron and when he had been in the hospital wing after getting poisoned by the mead originally meant for Professor Dumbledore and remembered the heavy feeling of worry she had carried around in her stomach. She understood exactly how he was feeling.
"She'll be okay, Malfoy," she muttered.
"I know that," the Head Boy growled. "The question is just for how long before they target her again."
Hermione turned her attention back to her nearly-finished essay and sighed quietly. It was no use to pretend to be worried for the female seventh-year Slytherin prefect in question, she knew Malfoy was aware that she as much as detested the girl. The way she felt about Pansy Parkinson was very similar to the way Malfoy felt about Harry and Ron.
She still remembered how the girl had tried to hand Harry over to Voldemort. She didn't believe Parkinson had done it because she was evil. Instead, she suspected that Parkinson had been afraid of the prospect of battle, and had seen this as the only way to avoid that. In a sick and twisted way, she could somewhat understand that, but it still bothered her. What Hermione really didn't like, however, was that there were attacks going on right under her nose, and she had no idea who was responsible.
"Since we're almost done with the essay," Hermione said, determined to change the subject as she reached into her bag, taking out her lilac folder, "I was wondering if maybe you could have a look at the new patrol schedule. I haven't taken the Quidditch training into account yet because, well, I'm not really well informed about them." She took a piece of parchment from the folder and handed it to Malfoy, who took it with a bored expression on his face.
He scanned the schedule and frowned, scratching out a few names of Quidditch players and scribbling down other names instead. "Granger, for the last time, stop pairing up Pritchard and Richmond, you know they can't stand the sight of each other," he sighed, drawing a forceful line through one of the names. "And I'll take Pansy's shifts this week," he announced, scribbling down his own name above Parkinson's.
"Okay, fine. You can switch my shifts with Pritchard's, then. I hope Randolph Burrow is a worthy match for him," she said, the words coming out snobbier than she had intended.
Malfoy glanced up at her with an annoyed frown. "If you want to stubbornly continue to pair them up, that's fine, but don't complain after they murder each other. You know you're the one who carries the final responsibility, not me."
"Fine. I'm sorry," Hermione muttered with reluctance.
"Shouldn't you be aware of the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw Quidditch training schedules by now?" Malfoy asked as he glanced at the schedule, ignoring her half-hearted apology. "Isn't Weasley friends with that little Ravenclaw Chaser?"
"She is, but they talk about Quidditch too often for me to remember specifics. And I might not really be paying attention most of the time," she admitted with a sigh.
A small smirk appeared on Malfoy's lips. He switched a few more patrol shifts and then handed her the edited patrol schedule. "That should do," he said. He took his book and opened it on the page he had bookmarked. "Now, let's finish this sodding essay so we can get brewing next week."
~ X ~
Hermione took a deep breath and inhaled the cool, fresh evening air as she walked on the Hogwarts grounds, making her way to the gates. The protective enchantments would be temporarily lifted for a meagre twenty seconds to let their guest in, which meant that Hermione would have to be precisely on time — which, of course, she was.
"Good evening, Ms Morgan," she greeted the athletic young woman on the other side of the gates with a smile.
"And to you… Ms Granger, right? Please, call me Valmai," the famous female Quidditch player answered pleasantly. She had tanned skin and her dark, shoulder-length hair danced around playfully whenever she moved her head. The gates opened, and Valmai entered the Hogwarts grounds. Hermione shook her hand to introduce herself properly and led the Holyhead Harpies Chaser back to the castle.
"It's so good to be back here," Valmai said cheerfully as she glanced around, taking in the surroundings. She smiled brightly when her eyes found the Quidditch pitch. "That's where it all began," she told Hermione, who smiled politely back at her, trying to hide the fact that she had talked enough Quidditch for today.
They reached the castle and walked through the corridors to Professor Slughorn's office.
"Valmai, dear, how are you?" Slughorn exclaimed jovially once Hermione had let her inside. "It is so good to see you again, please, sit down, come, come," he said, gently pushing her toward the table, seating her beside him. "Crystallised pineapple! You remembered! Sweet girl, you shouldn't have!"
Hermione quickly made her way over to the other side of the table, where Ginny was seated. She recognised the Carrow twins from the Slug Club parties two years previous; Madeline Ormskirk, a fifth-year Hufflepuff whose father was the head of the International Magical Office of Law; sixth-year Ravenclaw Ethan Bexley, who came from a family of powerful Hit Witches and Wizards; fifth-year Ravenclaw Geoffrey Stradbroke, whose grandfather was a well-known Arithmancer; and finally, fifth-year Slytherin Imogen Stretton, whose mother was the new Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic. There were also three younger faces that she did not recognise.
"I really thought you were joking," Ginny whispered once Hermione sat down next to her. She stared at Valmai in admiration, who was speaking animatedly with Professor Slughorn.
"Of course not," Hermione whispered back with a smile, playfully nudging her friend in the ribs for doubting her truthfulness.
Slughorn needlessly introduced Valmai to his students before serving dinner. As Hermione had expected, just like the during her sixth year, it consisted of nothing but the finest foods and drinks. The Potions Master showed a particular interest in Imogen Stretton, as her mother held one of the highest positions within the Ministry and had to answer only to the Minister of Magic himself. According to Slughorn's praises, the blonde Slytherin girl was also an incredibly skilled Potioneer.
"My great-grandmother has invented a number of appearance-enhancing potions," the girl said as she superciliously curled a string of blonde hair around her finger. "They are among the best-sold potions of all time. It's been said several times that they are the best of their kind."
"Naturally, naturally," Slughorn agreed as he stared intently at the girl with twinkling eyes. He then turned his attention back to Valmai. "I must introduce you to that lovely young lady right over there," he said enthusiastically, gesturing to Ginny, whose face immediately turned a little pink. "Do you know who that is, Valmai? That is Ginny Weasley. Rumour has it she's the one who has captured Harry Potter's heart, and rightfully so, of course. They're a perfect match. You must come back for one of her Quidditch matches, I insist. The girl is a Chaser of your calibre, Valmai, I'm telling you."
Valmai studied Ginny with great interest. "Really? I'd be happy to see that for myself, then," she said with a bright smile.
"Oh, and did I mention that she's also the Captain of her House team? Yes, a real gem, that one," Slughorn continued generously, grinning when he noticed Ginny's face colour into a deeper shade of red. She shyly glanced at Valmai, who was grinning at her as well, giving her a quick wink.
It was an entertaining evening, and the highlight was watching Ginny and Valmai engage in a very enthusiastic conversation about various Chaser tactics. Around 9 p.m., Hermione started to lose interest in the conversations she had with the other Slug Club members. Much to her surprise, Imogen proved to be less vain than she had initially appeared and was quite an interesting conversation partner. Together with Geoffrey and Ethan, they had an animated conversation about the possibilities of an internship at the Ministry of Magic after graduating from Hogwarts.
After waiting five more minutes, she excused herself from the conversation and wished everyone a good night before slipping out of the office. As she made her way through the dark, chilly corridors back up to the Head's Tower she encountered two third-year Slytherins. After deducting a couple of House points and writing down both of their names for detention, as well as having received a couple of sharp insults and nasty hand-gestures, she reached her destination rather irritably.
"Fwooper quill," she muttered flatly and waited for the portrait to slide to the left, eager to go up to her dormitory to call it a day early for a change. But upon entering the common room she was unpleasantly surprised.
"MALFOY!" she shrieked angrily. "What in Merlin's name is the meaning of this?!"
On the couch, two people were intimately intertwined with each other while, bluntly said, snogging each other senseless. Upon her shriek, their faces broke apart, and two pairs of angry eyes belonging to her two least favourite Slytherins glared up at her.
"Granger, lovely to see you," Pansy Parkinson sneered, sounding a little breathless. Her words were thickly laced with sarcasm and she wrinkled her nose as though something foul-smelling had settled under her nose. "Now, do everyone a favour and please rid yourself of this room."
"How dare you!" Hermione snapped, deeply offended. "You're in my quarters, a place that is, I might add, not available to you at any time. Get out!"
Malfoy sat up and pushed Parkinson's legs from his lap. "Granger, calm down. Can't you just go upstairs and pretend you never saw anything?" he pleaded, sounding anxious and bewildered.
"I don't think so, Malfoy. She's not supposed to be in here—she's not allowed to be in here—and you were very much aware of that when you brought her here. She goes, and she goes now."
"She isn't planning on going anywhere, Granger," Parkinson spat venomously, lifting her chin. To prove her point, she crossed her legs and folded her arms in front of her chest.
Hermione straightened her posture. "Twenty points from Slytherin for deliberately disobeying a direct order from the Head Girl," she said, glowering, pleased to see that Parkinson had the grace to swap the hostile look in her eyes for a shocked one.
Malfoy jumped up abruptly and stared at her, his face contorted into a mask of anger. "God dammit, Granger, you can't possibly think you can—"
"I can," Hermione interjected forcefully, glaring up at him, "and I just did. If you don't want to lose any more points or risk a nasty detention, Parkinson," she snapped as she looked past Malfoy at the dark-haired girl she so very much disliked, "you will go back to the Slytherin dungeons right this instant. Do not make me repeat myself."
Malfoy held his arm in front of Parkinson to stop her from moving past him, but the Slytherin girl pushed his arm out of the way and walked past him anyway. "It's okay, Draco," she said softly, giving him a quick kiss on his cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow."
She then walked up to Hermione and closed the distance between them until their noses almost touched. Staring at her with a hateful glare, Parkinson lifted her chin once more. "You're not only a sorry excuse for a witch, you filthy Mudblood, but you're a sorry excuse for a woman as well," she hissed before roughly elbowing her way past her and exiting the common room.
Hermione gaped after her, angry at the girl for being such an unrefined troll. When she turned back she gasped and jumped back, recreating a comfortable and acceptable space between herself and Malfoy, who had walked up and was now glaring down at her, standing rather close to her, much too close for Hermione's liking.
"What the hell was that for, Granger?!" he growled, seemingly barely able to control his anger.
Slightly taken aback, Hermione stared up at him, quickly composing herself. "Oh no, Malfoy, you're not going to turn me into the bad guy again this time. Rules are rules, and you knew from day one that you're not allowed to bring guests in here!" she snapped at him.
"Listen to you me, you uptight little wench," Malfoy hissed angrily. "That girl has been attacked. That might not mean anything to you, but it sure as hell means a lot to me. Don't you dare claim that you wouldn't run straight up to your beloved Weasel for hugs and comfort had that been happening to you!"
"That's not the point!" she sputtered in shock, unable to believe that he had really just brought up Ron.
"That's exactly the point, Mudblood!" he nearly yelled at her. "She's upset and she needs to take her mind off things! Thanks to you and your unwillingness to strike a deal, I'm still stuck here, unable to go down to the Slytherin dungeons, so there was no other way to comfort her than to allow her in here. You could have easily gone up to your sodding dorm pretending you never even saw her, we wouldn't have bothered you in any way!"
"I… You..."
"No. Just keep your mouth shut, I don't want to hear it. You just forced Pansy, who was poisoned earlier today, to make her way through a dark castle all by herself. Be bloody jealous all you want, I couldn't care less, but don't bother me with it, nor with your inconsiderate behaviour."
"I'm not jealous!" exclaimed Hermione, staring at him with wide eyes and feeling utterly offended. "My feelings for Ron have nothing to do with this, and it's none of your business to even begin with!"
Malfoy let out a derisive laugh. "You're making it my business, Granger! If your little boyfriend was still around you wouldn't be so bloody uptight about the bloody rules and you would understand that sometimes two people need each other's comfort. I thought you were mature enough to understand that, Granger, but you're nothing but a little girl who read one too many books and believes she knows it all."
"You arrogant son of a—"
"I dare you to finish that sentence, Mudblood," Malfoy interrupted her sharply, shooting her a murderous glare. "Humour me, I dare you."
Hermione snapped her mouth shut in anger and desperately blinked a few upcoming tears away. She couldn't believe his nerve; she couldn't believe how vile he was. He had broken the rules, but instead of accepting his fault, he had to go and make her feel bad for being a responsible Head Girl. And he just had to hit her way below the belt again. It might have been better of her to act with some more tact, but it was no legitimate reason for him to completely burn her down again.
"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Granger, stop crying," Malfoy sneered irritably, pulling her from her thoughts and back into the miserable reality of the common room. It wasn't until she saw the annoyed expression on his face that she realised a few tears had escaped from her eyes. She quickly wiped them off her cheeks.
"I never expected you to be the kind of girl to make a guy feel guilty by crying," Malfoy continued scornfully. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not sensitive to that kind of emotional blackmail."
"I'm not crying to make you feel guilty, because quite frankly, I don't believe you to be capable of that," she said softly.
"Snap out of it, Mudblood," he said in a bored tone as he walked away from her.
"That's the third time you've called me a Mudblood tonight, Malfoy. You're getting repetitive."
Malfoy snorted and dropped down onto the couch, readjusting the pillows as he lay down. "You need to be reminded every now and then."
Hermione narrowed her eyes and took a deep breath. "At least I'm a good person to compensate for my apparent bad blood," she said softly. "All you have is your good blood, but I doubt that's going to be enough to restore your family's soiled name."
"What did you just say to me?" Malfoy snapped in utter disbelief, apparently too shocked to remember to sound angry.
"I think you heard me," Hermione said as she glared at him intently, determined to tell him exactly what she thought of him. "When people judge me for my bad blood I know they're not worth my time, because I know I'm more than that. But you're a different story, aren't you? Because when people judge you for the reasons that caused you and your family to fall from grace, you know it's because you deserve it. You're a horrible person who did horrible things."
The Head Boy shot her a rather passionate glare and opened his mouth, but as soon as Hermione pushed her left sleeve up he snapped it shut at once and stared down at her arm in silence, his facial expression completely unreadable.
"These scars will tell you what I am, who I am," she told him, her eyes never leaving his face, registering every minuscule change in his composure, however brief. "And I'm proud of that, Malfoy. Proud of my lineage and proud of who I am."
She slowly moved forward and sank down onto the couch, leaving only mere inches of space between them. She grabbed his left arm which he immediately tried to pull back as though he had been in touch with electricity, but she had counted on that and was prepared for it.
With one smooth movement she pushed his sleeve up, revealing the Dark Mark that was branded into his skin. Over the past few months, the Mark had faded from deep black to a medium shade of grey, but it was still there, visible as an everlasting witness to Malfoy's choices.
"Can you say the same?" she whispered before standing up and letting go of his arm again.
She turned around and made her way up to her dormitory, unaware of the fact that the boy she left behind in the common room would continue to stare at the deterrent skull on his arm for quite some time, not quite as untouched by her words as he tried to convince himself.