Draco tossed the envelope onto the table as his gaze scrolled over the letter's contents. "Mother thinks it would be best if we stayed at Hogwarts for Christmas."
"Oh?"
"There was a fight at King's Cross. Someone was taking out muggles and got caught and it nearly became a battleground."
"That wasn't in the Prophet," she mused. "Are you sure?"
"She got it from Potter's dad. It took a lot of work to cover it up, but the minister is worried about widespread panic." He shook his head and set the letter aside.
Hermione nudged Harry's shoulder. "Did you hear about this?"
He frowned and adjusted his glasses. For the first time in a while, she wondered why he wore them rather than use a spell. Perhaps he was emulating his father. "Er, hear about what, now?"
Draco tossed the letter at him. Despite being a seeker, it fell onto Harry's plate. He grimaced and grumbled, grabbed it, and unfolded to read. His lips moved along as his eyes tracked words. After a moment, he shook his head and held out the folded letter. "Dad had said that things were coming to a head, but he didn't mention this. I can ask."
"Are you staying for Christmas?" she asked.
"Yes," Harry replied. "Mum said they would be busy with Order business."
The Order was the organization they'd formed to combat archaic blood status ideology taking root in Wizarding Britain; Hermione had heard murmurs, but not been to any official meetings as she'd needed to "recover." Besides this, Narcissa wasn't an official member, and the two had often spent time together before the return to Hogwarts.
She leaned over toward their redheaded friend. "How about you, Ron? Are you staying?"
"Nah. Bill and Charlie will be here, so mum wants the whole family home. She says it's important to have the whole family together one more time, since…" He shrugged, but she knew it was because things were getting worse. There was no knowing what the future might be.
With scant few weeks left until the holidays, Hermione's anxiety twisted in her gut.
On the one hand, she was grateful to stay at Hogwarts. It was the safest place one could be, according to every adult in her life.
On the other, Tom always remained as well.
Since the night she'd confronted him, he had dropped any favoritism he might have had. He was cordial with her, and notes on her essays were more curt. When Hermione attended the club, it was as an ordinary member. The knot in her stomach grew whenever his passive gaze roved across her without a hint of recognition.
Was this heartbreak?
It certainly felt painful. Tom had gone from lavishing her with affection to hardly acknowledging her existence. There were no more late nights reading with her head against his chest, nor snogging sessions she had enjoyed far more than she was willing to admit.
There was only a gaping abyss where Tom had been, as Professor Riddle was the picture of professionalism.
At least she was good at compartmentalizing. It assisted her studies, so she'd learned all about it early on. There were books on nearly everything in the Malfoy library.
The only time she couldn't pack away her broken heart was when she was alone in her bed. She would spell her curtains to block out sound and cry herself to sleep.
In her dreams, she only ever caught Tom's shadow, forever out of reach.
"You know," she murmured, attempting to redirect her mind from the subject of her ruined romance, "I'm surprised there haven't been any legal proceedings."
Draco's pale brows shot up. "Legal proceedings? Over the killings?"
"No, from your father." Her cheeks heated; this wasn't much better to confront. "With the law and all, I had half expected him to burst into the castle with a team of Aurors."
"Ah, that. Well, mother has been fighting him over his guardianship. Technically speaking, you are as much her ward as his. There have been owls, from what I understand, but the Order is monitoring his correspondence," Draco answered, his grey eyes straying to the table.
"That's good," she supposed.
She wondered if the patriarch had sent any letters to her, to try and demand her compliance. Perhaps she could ask when she was able to speak to the other adults in person.
Frowning as a realization struck, she glanced at the head table. Professor Dumbledore sat with Professor McGonegal. They would know.
It was Wednesday, which had quickly become her favorite day of the week. Not only was it her sole school day without Tom Riddle teaching, but Astronomy, which she had at midnight (technically it was Thursday by then, but who counted that?). The extra trek, even a bare facade of socializing with others, assisted in tiring her out. It was the least likely night for her to break down into tears.
Hermione arrived early to Transfiguration. She was in luck; the animagus professor sat at her desk, grading papers with efficient flicks of her barn owl quill.
"Yes, Miss Granger?" The woman didn't look up, she just knew her students that well.
Hermione approached with several sidelong glances toward the door. "I had a question, professor."
McGonegal laid down her quill and arched a brow. "So I've gathered."
She flushed. "It's about, well." Hermione glanced askance again to assure their solitude. "About the Order."
McGonegal stiffened but nodded for her to go on.
"I heard you're— the Order— is monitoring Lucius Malfoy's correspondence, and I wondered if, perhaps, he had tried to send anything to me. Here. At the castle."
Minerva removed her round frames to rub at tired eyes. "Miss Granger," she began as she slid them back into place. "I cannot imagine what you have been through, but a man like Lucius Malfoy has no right to contact you, much less receive replies."
"Oh, no," she assured her professor. "It's nothing like that, I just wanted to know."
The older woman studied her pupil for a moment, then nodded. "I will find out for you."
"Thank you, professor." For the first time in what felt like ages, her smile lit her face. She took her seat, choosing not to investigate why it was so important to know. She beamed at the boys as they took up their usual places. Something eased within all of them at the sight.
After dinner that evening, Professor McGonegal motioned her aside. The woman guided her toward a hall with no classes, her voice low as she spoke. "Lucius Malfoy has sent you more than one owl. I do not know how many, but it was on at least two separate occasions."
"What did he—"
"I don't know, and I'm unsure you should know either. The man is unwell mentally, Miss Granger. He has been on the warpath since you were rescued. Neither Narcissa nor her monstrous sister are immune to his wrath." The professor laid a hand on her shoulder. "It is imperative that you do not leave Hogwarts for any reason until you are given leave."
Hermione loathed to hear there was anything she shouldn't learn, let alone the contents of letters meant for her. However, she had seen for herself that Lucius was different while she was locked away. There had always been a sense of danger behind his aristocratic facade, but she had seen him shed propriety altogether, and how he relished in the comfort of others and took solace in his control.
With no one to control and no comfort at all, how would he regain himself?
"I won't," she confirmed for her professor. The woman squeezed her shoulder and gave her a wan smile. The two parted in the main hall. Hermione met the boys there.
"Was that McGonegal?" Ron asked, craning to search out the woman.
Hermione tutted. " Professor McGonegal, Ronald. And yes."
"What she want? Giving you extra homework on account of Riddle won't anymore?" he quipped.
She didn't correct him this time, just rolled her eyes. "We were just talking about protections on the castle," she fibbed, though she told herself that subject had come up in the course of the short exchange.
"Speaking of Transfiguration," Harry began. At the hopeful light behind Ron's eyes, she huffed a laugh.
"Yes, I'll help you both with the essays due next week. On one condition: we will be working on them this weekend." The boys groaned. "I won't have the two of you dragging me away from my work Tuesday night because you've put it off til last minute again.
"What about me?" Draco piped in.
"Yours is already finished." As though he could fool her.
Her friend grinned. "Why, yes. It is. I worked on it early in hopes we could exchange ours and proof them."
There was something else he wanted; she could read him like a book. Those knife-keen eyes bored into her expectantly. "You did very well, Draco." The blond shot a smirk at the other two. Harry suppressed a smile while Ron grumbled.
"And that's what happens when you actually do your classwork," Draco bragged. She had half a mind to tug his ear, but it wouldn't hurt the other two to see him gloat. Maybe they'd smarten up and start studying.
Hermione thought there was a greater chance Bellatrix Lestrange would start fawning over her like she did Tom.
At the thought of the horrible, beautiful woman's inkdrop eyes glistening as they adored the muggleborn witch, Hermione smiled. At least the thought was amusing.