Friday, 15 January 1999
Hermione stepped out of the office and pulled the door closed behind her, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly. She hated the counsel sessions. Even though she had to admit that it really helped to talk to someone who knew exactly how to respond, she disliked being vulnerable with a passion.
"Tough session?"
She snapped out of her post-session dip and glanced around to find Lavender sitting in the chair next to the office door. The blonde looked better than she had in months, but Hermione noticed with a start that Lavender wasn't wearing a scarf for the first time since she had returned to Hogwarts. Three large pink scars covered the entire left side of her neck and Hermione found it difficult to look away from them. She sank down in the chair next to her dorm mate and briefly wished she had managed to blast Fenrir Greyback away sooner.
"Every session is tough," she answered softly. "For months I've tried to forget all the things I've seen, only to be required to bring everything back up to the surface now."
Lavender glanced up at her. "I haven't had the luxury of trying to forget," she replied flatly. "I've stayed in St. Mungo's for three full months so the Healers could study me for behavioural changes during the full moon. You know what they found out? I have no werewolf tendencies whatsoever, but my scars burn like Fiendfyre during the three nights around the full moon."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Hermione murmured.
The blonde wiped some tears from her cheeks and took a deep breath. "Madam Medens was concerned that I wasn't making enough progress," she continued hoarsely. "So I've stopped wearing my scarf to prove that I am making progress, but honestly, I'm not…" The tears were now falling freely and Hermione hesitantly took Lavender's hand in an attempt to comfort her.
"They're so ugly," Lavender whispered after a long silence. "I look like a freak."
Hermione squeezed her hand. "You don't," she stated firmly. "You survived a war, Lavender. You participated in the Final Battle and you lived to tell. The fact that you stayed behind makes you so very brave… Anyone who judges you for your scars in a negative way doesn't deserve you in their lives. Don't you dare to think differently."
Lavender reached up to wipe more tears from her cheek and she stared at Hermione with surprise evident in her eyes. They looked at each other for quite a long time, but for some reason it wasn't awkward. There was more understanding between the two of them in this moment than there had been in all the years they had known each other, and for that Hermione was grateful.
"I like you so much better now than I did before," Lavender whispered at last. Then she seemed to fully realise what she had just said, and a bright red blush of embarrassment spread over her face. "Oh no, I'm sorry," she muttered. "It's just—I meant… You… you were not very good with people…"
"It's okay," Hermione interjected quickly when Lavender opened her mouth again to undoubtedly let out more uncomfortable words. "You're right. I wasn't good with people. I'm still not, most of the time. But I find it easier to relate to you now. We never had much in common, and it's horrible that suffering in a War is the thing that somewhat bonded us at last… But I don't want you to feel bad about a scar. I know what that feels like, and I refuse to let them define us."
Hermione hesitated for a brief moment but then she resolutely pushed up her left sleeve, and Lavender gasped loudly when the scars on her arm were revealed; the ugly scars that formed that ugly word. Mudblood. Despite her forceful speech couldn't help but slightly flinch at the sight. She still avoided looking at her arm most of the time, but today she would be brave for Lavender.
The blonde Gryffindor gently took her arm and traced the roughly cut letters with her thumb. She had a look of utter dismay on her face, and her eyes were full of sympathy. "Who did this to you?" she uttered after a long silence.
"Bellatrix Lestrange," Hermione answered, and she was taken aback by the fact that her words came out in a whisper. She hadn't meant to, but her voice was caught in her throat and there was a heavy feeling in her stomach that hadn't been there a few minutes ago.
"With your intelligence and your magical skill you put the whole of Hogwarts to shame," Lavender finally said in a determined tone. "You are the brightest witch of our age, Hermione, and I hope you will never doubt yourself despite this ugly slur on your arm."
Hermione smiled and blinked a few times to try and keep her eyes from welling up. "Thank you, Lavender," she said sincerely. "That means a lot to me."
The door next to them opened and Madam Medens stepped through the doorway, smiling down at them. "Ms Brown, if you're ready you may come inside," she announced, and then she tactfully retreated back into her office, pushing against the door until there was only a small open crack left to give them the privacy to wrap up their moment.
The two seventh-year girls rose from their seats and Lavender stepped forward and briefly embraced her, and Hermione hugged her dorm mate back, surprised but grateful of their newfound understanding. With a last smile Lavender turned towards the door and disappeared into the office moments later, and Hermione made her way to the Gryffindor Tower, feeling much better despite the heavy afternoon she just had.
Tuesday, 26 January 1999
"You're late."
Malfoy sneered at her. "It's two minutes, Granger. I'm sure you'll forgive me." He stuck his hands deep in the pockets of his trousers and strolled over to her with an irritated frown on his brows.
He was paler than usual, with dark circles under his eyes that reminded her of how he had looked back in September. He had been this pale ever since they had come back from the Christmas holidays, and Hermione guessed it had something to do with the fact that Pansy Parkinson had not returned to Hogwarts.
While she wasn't particularly sad about the fact that the nasty Slytherin girl in question had not come back, she knew quite well how Malfoy must be feeling. After all, she had gone through the same thing when she had returned last September without Harry and Ron.
They rounded a corner and Hermione couldn't suppress a sigh. They were two prefects down and that meant that everyone had a slightly larger workload than before. To keep things fair Hermione had suggested that they—as Head students—would take up one patrol round every week instead of simply filling in whenever a prefect was unavailable for rounds. To her surprise Malfoy had agreed with her suggestion, but she had soon found out that he wanted to use their patrol round as a Head's meeting, to discuss incidents and other Head-related matters.
Hermione suspected that it was because he didn't want to be stuck in a room with just her anymore, and the rounds provided them with enough distraction that they couldn't be focused on each other for too long. Still, she much preferred to do rounds with someone she got along with better, though she supposed that spending one hour together every week wasn't so bad.
"Did you hear about the Apparition class from earlier?" she asked him eventually, hoping to break the silence. They briefly locked eyes and Malfoy raised his eyebrows before shaking his head.
"Peeves somehow managed to get into the Great Hall during the first attempts and caused quite the chaos," she told him. "Nearly everyone ended up severely splinching themselves and Madam Pomfrey needed to call over twelve Healers from St. Mungo's to help her heal everyone."
Malfoy's eyebrows rose higher, nearly merging with his hairline. "Not sure how I missed all that," he commented quietly. "Though I have been in the library for most of the afternoon."
"For your Muggle Studies essay?" Hermione asked casually. She wanted to offer to help him, but upon noticing the way he had clenched his jaw she reconsidered voicing that suggestion. Malfoy seemed so on edge lately, and she wondered if Parkinson's decision to not return really affected him this much. Then it hit her that he didn't really have many friends left. She saw him with Theodore Nott and Daphne Greengrass every day, but during their earlier years they had never really spent much time together, and they likely weren't very close. He had always been in the company of Crabbe and Goyle before, and whenever he hadn't been with them he had been with Parkinson instead.
Hermione didn't presume to know what went on in Malfoy's head, but she could imagine that he needed to be able to vent from time to time. Now that he was Head Boy he had to behave impeccably around other students—he was supposed to be an example student, after all—and without someone to really let go around he would probably lose his mind soon, and she really couldn't have that. She didn't want to end up with a broken skull again.
"Do you ever think about how everyone is made up of several different versions of themselves?" she eventually mused out loud, hoping he wouldn't snap at her and tell her to shut up. Hermione waited patiently as they made their way through the corridor in silence.
"No. Not really," he finally answered. There was a sigh in his voice that told her he had probably considered several different ways of responding to her but had settled for simply answering her question instead, and she smiled a little at that thought.
"Well, I do," she told him, and from the corner of her eye she could tell that he was rolling his eyes at her comment. "And I think it can really benefit a person to be able to distinguish those different versions. For example, right now you are Head Boy Malfoy, but I assume that this isn't who you are when you're around your friends."
"Is there a point to your rambles, Granger?"
His tone was way-worn and he halted in front of a large tapestry. He drew his wand and muttered "Lumos," before pulling the woven work of art aside and holding out his illuminated wand inside the previously concealed secret passage. Usually a popular spot for snogging students, it was now luckily deserted, and Malfoy extinguished his wand again with a nonverbal Nox as he released the tapestry, once again removing the passage from view.
He turned back to face her and straightened his posture as he looked down at her with a raised eyebrow. "Trying to find a version to be friends with?"
Hermione snorted a little at his sarcasm and shook her head as they started walking again. "I guess I'm just trying to say that it's really helpful to realise which version of yourself you are at any given time. It makes it easier to understand why you're feeling a certain way. You know, Head Boy Malfoy is not all that bad to be around. I remember the guy from a few years ago… He was particularly unpleasant."
"I'm not playing this pathetic game, Granger."
"Always so serious, that Head Boy Malfoy," she sighed.
They climbed a flight of stairs to the fifth floor and Hermione jumped over the fake thirteenth step to avoid getting stuck in the trick stairs. When she reached the top of the staircase and turned into the corridor to the left she suddenly felt as though someone had emptied a bucket of ice water over her head, and she let out a yelp.
"Oh! Hermione! I do apologise—I didn't see you there," the pearly-white and transparent Nearly Headless Nick said solemnly. He adjusted the ruff around his neck to keep his head from falling off and smiled down at her. "Good evening. What brings you out here so late? Ah, and greetings to you, Mr Malfoy."
The Head Boy made a slightly bewildered impression and he had his wand clutched in his hand. He exhaled loudly through his nose once he saw that the noise she had made had an innocent cause, and he put his wand away with a deep frown of annoyance on his brows..
"Hello Nicholas." Hermione greeted the ghost of Gryffindor House with a smile. "Just patrol rounds," she answered, and she tapped her Head Girl badge.
The ghost gave her an understanding nod. "Ah, yes, of course. Before you continue down this corridor I must warn you that Peeves is around here somewhere. The Baron is after him to give him a proper scolding for that awful stunt from earlier, but so far we haven't been able to locate him. He is especially troublesome tonight, very destructive, so be careful. If you see him, please do let one of the ghosts know, yes? You can alert us through the portraits, that will do. Have a good night." With one last nod at them he floated off and disappeared through a door on the right side of the corridor.
"That was pathetic," Malfoy remarked irritably once Nearly Headless Nick was gone. "You squealed like a little girl; like you've never seen a ghost before."
"See what I mean?" Hermione asked pointedly as she shot him a half-hearted glare. "Particularly unpleasant." She rummaged through the pocket of her robe and fished out a folded piece of parchment and her wand.
"What are you doing?" he asked suspiciously.
"I'm helping," she muttered in response as she tapped her wand on the parchment and whispered "I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good," as quietly as she could manage, upon which red ink started to spread around the parchment, creating an intricate maze.
The Head Boy stepped closer and bowed down a little to study the Map that was forming up close. There was a flicker of amazement in his eyes as he glanced up at her. "Granger, seriously. What is this?"
Hermione met his eyes for a moment before glancing down at the Map again as she started unfolding the parchment. "It's a map of Hogwarts, obviously. Will you help me find Peeves?"
"And how exactly are you proposing we—" Malfoy cut himself off and bowed down further. "What? Are you serious?" he breathed out. He pointed his finger at two small dots and tapped on the Map. "How does this map know that we're here?"
"I don't know exactly how it works," she answered him shortly. "All I know for sure is that the makers used a Homonculous Charm." She unfolded another part of the Map and let her eyes glide over the lines. A hand suddenly appeared in her vision, startling her a little. Malfoy pointed at a dot three corridors away from them.
"There he is," he said softly. "Now what?"
Hermione turned and quickly made her way over to a closeby portrait of a wizard with a moustache and very sparse hair. The man stared at the floor and avoided all eye contact, even when she stood directly in front of the frame.
"Good evening, Timothy," she greeted him politely. "How have you been?"
The balding wizard didn't vocally respond but gave her a small nod in return. He was known as Timothy the Timid among students, a nickname he earned because of his many fears and constant paranoid behaviour. He didn't really like anyone, but ever since Hermione had been appointed prefect in her fifth year his portrait had been part of her regular patrol route, and after many months of consistent polite greetings he had somewhat warmed up to her.
"I was hoping I might ask you for a favour," Hermione continued gently. "Would you please pay Sir Norvel Twonk a visit in his portrait and ask him to keep an eye on Peeves and keep him distracted? We will alert the ghosts to let him know where to find him. You'd be doing Hogwarts a great favour."
Timothy the Timid blushed brilliantly and stepped sideways at once, disappearing behind the frame of his portrait, and Hermione smiled, feeling pleased. She turned back to Malfoy and looked down at the Map again to see if any of the Hogwarts ghosts was nearby. "The Friar is just around the corner," she announced, after which she started refolding the Map. "Let's alert him."
"The Map shows ghosts too?" Malfoy growled under his breath. He sounded mildly impressed and she knew he was trying to conceal it. "Where did you get it, Granger?"
Hermione grimaced a little. "Honestly, I don't want to tell you."
He sighed and rolled his eyes. "So it's Potter's. And where did Scarhead get it? Where does he get any of his cool props? First that invisibility cloak of impeccable quality, now this map…"
"Right, exactly how do you know about Harry's cloak? And how did you know that I have it?" asked Hermione. When she glanced up she saw Malfoy's frown deepen and she raised her eyebrows at him.
"Back in sixth year I caught Potter eavesdropping me on the Hogwarts Express using that cloak," he answered with clear reluctance before directing his frown at her. "So I did what every sixteen-year-old guy would do when catching their nemesis in a compromising position. I Petrified him, broke his nose and hid him under the cloak, hoping he would remain undiscovered and return to London. Unfortunately I had no such luck."
"Good Godric," Hermione breathed out. "You're just terrible, aren't you?"
Malfoy shot her a glare but it softened somewhat when he saw that she was smiling a little. Of course, she had already heard the story from Harry back in sixth year and she couldn't help but feel a little pleased that Malfoy was actually telling the truth.
They rounded the corner just as the Fat Friar was about to float through a wall. "Simeon!" Hermione called out, and the short, fat monk-like ghost halted, turned and floated back in their direction with a curious expression on his transparent face.
"Simeon?!" Malfoy muttered disbelievingly.
"Friar is a title," she reminded him. "It's not his name."
"Thank you so much for enlightening me," he spat sarcastically.
The resident ghost of Hufflepuff House halted in front of them and smiled. "Good evening, Ms Granger; Mr Malfoy," he greeted them in a soft, polite voice. "How may I be of assistance?"
"Actually, we're here to help you," Hermione answered. "Sir Nicholas warned us that Peeves was near and that he was on the run for the Bloody Baron. We last saw him on the fifth-floor landing of the Grand Staircase not five minutes ago. With a little luck Sir Norvel Twonk was successful in keeping him there."
"Oh, thank you so much for your helpfulness," the Fat Friar said happily. "I'll go over there at once. We really ought to find the Baron..." He floated past them and disappeared through the wall.
Hermione pointed her wand at the Marauder's Map and softly muttered "Mischief Managed", to which Malfoy snorted.
"So…" she started as they turned back to return to their patrol route, ignoring his response to the concealment phrase of the Map. "How did you know that Harry lend his cloak to me? Because I haven't used it once this year and you couldn't have gone up to my room without Professor McGonagall knowing."
"I know you're hoping for a scandalous revelation," Malfoy drawled. "But I simply recognised it when you brought it back with you after visiting the Gryffindors earlier in the year. I'm assuming Potter mailed it to you that day and that the Weasley girl took it with her to the Gryffindor Tower because you were too paranoid of getting to class late."
Hermione raised her eyebrows at him and blinked a few times, slightly offended but mostly impressed. "You are far more observant than I have ever given you credit for," she muttered.
"And don't I just live for your praise," Malfoy answered sarcastically. "Are you going to tell me how Potter got the cloak and that map?" he asked with an overdone sigh, though not quite able to mask his curiosity.
"The cloak has been passed down in his family from father to son for generations." She shrugged. "And his father is one of the makers of the Map. It was confiscated by Filch but Fred and George Weasley stole it from his office and they gave it to Harry in our third year."
Malfoy shook his head. "You know, it's a shame that Scarhead is not more like his dead father, because he honestly sounds like quite a cool guy," he muttered.
"That is a horrible thing to say," Hermione snapped indignantly.
"It was a compliment," he bit back in the same tone. "That is literally the nicest thing I have ever said about anything relating to Potter!"
"Particularly unpleasant!"
The Head Boy shot her a glare and opened his mouth to snap back what would probably be something insulting, but a loud clash around the corner made them both jump. They shot each other an alarmed look before rushing to the source of the noise. When they turned the corner into the main corridor, Hermione immediately wished they hadn't.
Peeves soared through the corridor, followed closely by six angry ghosts, among them the Fat Friar and Nearly Headless Nick. Peeves was crackling like a maniac and rapidly made his way to the chandelier that was still hanging from the ceiling. The first one had fallen down and was smashed in thousands of pieces. The entire floor was covered in broken pieces of crystal, and from the looks of it more would follow quickly.
"PEEVES!" Nearly Headless Nick bellowed. "DON'T YOU DARE!"
"Eeny Meeny Miny Moo," Peeves sang with a wicked grin on his face while rapidly rocking the chandelier back and forth as his eyes found Hermione and Malfoy standing below. "This chandelier will turn you to goo!"
"Granger," Malfoy said slowly, a warning tone to his voice as he stared up at Peeves and the chandelier with apprehension. "Get back here, now."
Hermione vaguely registered her legs moving to step backwards, but the loud crack of the breaking chains had made her freeze as a horrible flashback washed over her. Luckily the Head Boy was also a Seeker and much faster and more alert than she was. Malfoy jumped forward, grabbed her arm and roughly pulled her into him and down to the ground, wrapping his arms around her as he attempted to cover both their chandelier came crashing down and Hermione whimpered as the broken pieces of crystal cut her right cheek and hand.
Five ghosts continued their pursuit of Peeves into the adjacent corridor, but Nearly Headless Nick floated down to the ground to check up on them. Malfoy slowly let go of her and Hermione carefully brought her hand up to her cheek, which stung harsly at her touch. Her hand itself was bloody as well, and from what she could see her robe was in desperate need of a Reparo.
Malfoy looked slightly less dishevelled than she probably did. His hair was messy and his own robe was torn mostly at the sleeves, but other than a couple of cuts on his hands he seemed unharmed. He was breathing heavily and his eyes displayed anxiety, but once he had looked her over and determined that she was mostly unharmed the look in his eyes changed to anger.
"Oh no, oh no," Nearly Headless Nick wailed. "Are you both all right? Must I go and find a staff member?"
"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Malfoy snapped at her, ignoring the whining ghost. "Why did you just stand there? Do you want to die?"
"Mr Malfoy! That tone is entirely inappropriate!" the ghost of Gryffindor House said in loud disapproval, and he dived down and through the blond Slytherin for good measure, causing him to call out in discomfort.
Hermione didn't respond to them but instead desperately tried to calm herself down. She didn't necessarily disagree with Malfoy on this. What on earth was wrong with her? When the cut on her cheek urgently began to sting she knew she had failed at her attempt to collect herself, and she carefully wiped her tears away.
"Granger, what is going on? Are you hurt?"
Malfoy's eyes once again displayed anxiety as he studied her. He seemed exceedingly uncomfortable because of her tears and he slowly drew his wand. He reached up and took her shoulder to steady her and softly traced the tip of his wand over the cut on her cheek, immediately relieving the pain as he quietly muttered the healing spell. He then gently took her hand and healed the cut there as well before tending to his own hands. When he was done Hermione had calmed down considerably, and she tried to contain her utter surprise at the tenderness of his actions. He stared at her with expectant eyes, though he didn't ask again
"I'm sorry," she murmured finally. "I just… Flashback."
"Of what?" he asked harshly, but he had apparently blurted that out without thinking it through, and he narrowed his eyes in regret almost immediately. She gulped and took a deep breath, trying to control the memories that still played through her head.
"The last time a chandelier came crashing down on me…"
"I'm sorry," Malfoy interrupted her quietly. "I should have known." He carefully got to his feet and held out his hands, pulling her up when she had taken them. "Let's get this corridor back in order," he suggested. "Are you up for it?"
Hermione nodded her head and drew her wand, and together they restored the chandeliers to their former glory. She could feel some broken pieces of crystal fight their way to freedom from her bushy curls and was glad that none of the pieces cut her scalp. Before long the corridor looked as though nothing extraordinary had happened there in the first place. Hermione assured Nearly Headless Nick that she was fine, and after a little convincing he finally departed in search for his fellow ghosts with the hope that they had finally found the Bloody Baron.
"I'm going to walk you to the Gryffindor Tower," Malfoy announced.
"Don't worry about it," she replied quickly. "It's not far, there's no need."
The Head Boy firmly placed his hand between her shoulder blades and pushed her towards the Grand Staircase. "Exactly. It's not far, so it's not like I'll be taking a grand detour. After all that's happened tonight I will leave you only when I know for sure you're not going to die at the hands of a bloody poltergeist. I'm not about to be blamed for your demise when I've had nothing to do with it."
Hermione sighed quietly and surrendered without another word. They made their way up to the seventh floor in silence and she led him into the Fat Lady's corridor. "Merlin's beard!" the Fat Lady shouted as soon as she caught sight of her. "What on earth has happened to you?!"
She ignored the guardian of the entrance to the Gryffindor Tower and frowned up at Malfoy. "We're here. You can go now," she told him. Malfoy raised his eyebrow at her and stepped backwards in the direction of the main corridor.
"You're welcome," he said pointedly.
"Thank you," Hermione replied with an overdone politeness and he smirked at her in response. He turned around and was about to leave, but then she thought of something. "Malfoy?" The blond Slytherin turned back and stared at her with a questioning look.
"You squealed like a little girl when Nearly Headless Nick floated through you," she remarked as she fought back a grin. "That was rather pathetic. Honestly, have you never seen a ghost before?"
The corners of his mouth turned upwards and for the first time in all the years they had been at Hogwarts together Hermione witnessed a smile on Malfoy's face. Not a smirk; not a grimace, but an honest-to-goodness smile. It lightened up his normally quite cold eyes and Hermione couldn't help but be taken aback by how different he looked: not so particularly unpleasant. Not at all.
"Well played, Granger," he said softly, before turning around and disappearing out of sight.