Chapter 7
The castle had grown colder, the weight of the Triwizard Tournament hanging over everything like a heavy storm cloud. As the third task loomed closer, the anticipation in the air was palpable, but for Draco Malfoy, the tournament had become little more than background noise to the chaos brewing in his mind.
He hadn't seen much of Hermione in the last few days, which only served to fuel his growing frustration. Every time he spotted her, she was either with Potter and Weasley, or worse—Viktor Krum. Draco's irritation spiked at the thought of Krum. The Bulgarian was becoming a permanent fixture in Hermione's life, and every time Draco saw them together, his possessiveness flared.
But Hermione wasn't the only thing gnawing at him. The letters from his father had been coming more frequently, each one more cryptic than the last. Lucius Malfoy was never one to explain himself fully in writing, always preferring to leave his son with half-truths and vague warnings, but lately, the letters had taken on a darker tone.
Draco sat in the common room late one evening, staring down at the latest letter from his father, the firelight casting long shadows over the parchment. The words swam in front of his eyes, their meaning clear enough, but the implications weighed heavily on his chest.
Draco,
The time is drawing near. You must be vigilant, especially with Potter's continued involvement in the Tournament. Keep an eye on the connections between him and Dumbledore. The alliances we have built will be tested soon, and you must be prepared for what comes next. We cannot afford weakness.
Do not fail in your duty.
Lucius Malfoy
Draco crumpled the letter in his hand, his jaw tightening with frustration. His father's letters always carried the same tone—demanding, expectant—but now, they were becoming more insistent, more cryptic. Lucius had always been strategic in what he shared, but this... this was different. It felt like a warning of something far bigger than Draco had anticipated.
The problem was, he didn't know what that something was. His father had been hinting at darker forces stirring in the wizarding world for months now, but the specifics were still out of reach. All Draco knew was that the pressure to live up to his family's expectations was becoming unbearable.
He tossed the letter into the fire, watching the parchment curl and blacken in the flames. The weight of his father's words pressed heavily on his chest, but it wasn't just the letter that was bothering him. It was everything—Hermione, the tournament, the strange sense that the world around him was beginning to shift, and he was losing control of it.
Draco leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair as he tried to calm the storm brewing inside him. But the more he tried to push it down, the more his frustration grew. His father's demands, Hermione's indifference, the constant presence of Krum—it was all starting to blur together, feeding the darker thoughts that had been plaguing him for weeks.
Theo and Blaise entered the common room then, their expressions as unreadable as ever, though Draco could tell they had something on their minds.
"You look like you've just murdered someone," Blaise observed as he dropped into the chair across from Draco, eyeing him carefully. "What's going on?"
Draco didn't answer right away, his eyes still fixed on the fire. "It's nothing."
Theo raised an eyebrow as he sat down next to Blaise. "Nothing? You've been sitting there for an hour, staring at the fire like it holds all the answers."
Draco clenched his jaw, his frustration flaring again. "I told you, it's nothing."
Blaise glanced at the fire, where the remnants of the letter still smoldered. "Another one of your father's cryptic messages?"
Draco's silence was answer enough.
Theo sighed, leaning forward slightly. " My father's been writing too."
"Yeah" Draco snapped, his voice sharper than he intended. "All I get are vague instructions and warnings about Potter. About him needing information. Nothing useful."
Blaise raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that always the way with our families? Keep us in the dark until the last possible moment."
Draco didn't respond, but the truth of Blaise's words stung. His father had always operated that way—holding power over him, always doling out just enough information to keep Draco on edge but never enough to give him a full picture. It was infuriating.
"Whatever it is, it's coming soon," Theo said, his voice quieter now. "My father's been more secretive than usual"
Draco knew what Theo meant, but the idea of the old Death Eater networks rising again sent a chill through him. His father had mentioned it in passing, but now it seemed more real.
"We'll have to choose sides soon," Theo said, his voice steady but tense. "And it's not just about our fathers anymore. It's about us."
Draco nodded, though the weight of those words settled heavily on his shoulders. He had always known his path was set, that his family's expectations would guide him, but now, as the world around them seemed to teeter on the edge of something darker, he couldn't shake the feeling that things were slipping out of his control.
Blaise leaned back in his chair, watching Draco carefully. "You've always been good at reading people, Draco. You're not worried?"
Draco hesitated for a moment, his mind flicking back to Hermione. The idea that she might get caught up in whatever was coming gnawed at him. He had spent so much time thinking about how to make her notice him, to make her see him in a different light. But now, with the possibility of something far more dangerous approaching, he wasn't sure how to protect her from it.
"I'm not worried," Draco said finally, though the lie tasted bitter on his tongue. "I just need to figure out what's really going on."
Theo nodded slowly. "Whatever it is, it's going to change things. For all of us."
Draco stared into the fire, his thoughts swirling. The third task was fast approaching, and with it, the end of the Triwizard Tournament. But the tournament was only a distraction now, a small part of something much larger and far more dangerous.
And Hermione... Hermione was still slipping through his fingers.
As the fire crackled softly in the common room, Draco clenched his jaw, his mind filled with darker, more possessive thoughts. He didn't know what was coming, but one thing was certain: when it arrived, he would have to make a choice. And whatever that choice was, Hermione would not be left out of it.
He would make sure of that.
Draco Malfoy walked with purpose through the castle, his mind consumed by a frustration he couldn't shake. He had been receiving more letters from his father—cryptic, terse messages warning of shifts in power, of alliances being tested. Lucius Malfoy was never one to speak plainly, but the recent letters had been even more difficult to decipher, and they left Draco feeling more on edge than ever.
Beside him, Blaise Zabini walked in his usual calm, measured pace. He was a silent companion, though Draco could tell from the occasional glances that Blaise was keeping an eye on him. Blaise had always been perceptive, and lately, he'd been watching Draco more closely than usual.
The two of them reached the entrance to the courtyard, and there, just as Draco had expected, were Potter, Weasley, and Hermione, huddled together as always. Draco slowed his pace, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watched them.
"Do you ever wonder what they're always talking about?" Blaise asked, his tone light but edged with curiosity. "It's like they have their own little world. No one else gets to be a part of it."
Draco's gaze lingered on Hermione. She was standing between Potter and Weasley, her arms crossed, looking as though she were lost in thought. But then she laughed—something Weasley had said, no doubt—and Draco felt a sharp pang of frustration.
"They wouldn't know what to do if someone else disrupted that world," Draco said quietly, more to himself than to Blaise.
Blaise raised an eyebrow, watching Draco closely. "Disrupted? Is that your plan, then? Stir the pot a bit?"
Draco didn't respond, but his expression darkened as he took a step forward. Blaise followed, his usual smirk slipping into something more thoughtful as they approached the trio.
Blaise caught the look in Draco's eyes and smirked. "You're really going to do this again?"
"Potter," Draco called out smoothly as they got closer, his voice cutting through the casual air of the courtyard. "Still playing the hero, I see."
Harry turned, his expression immediately darkening when he saw Draco and Blaise. "What do you want, Malfoy?"
"Relax, Potter," Blaise said lazily, leaning against the courtyard wall. "We're just passing through."
Draco's smirk grew slightly as he stepped closer. "I was just wondering how you manage to survive these days without Granger constantly pulling you out of the fire. I suppose it's becoming routine for her."
Ron bristled, stepping closer to Harry. "Why don't you just mind your own business, Malfoy?"
Draco's gaze flicked to Ron, his smirk turning sharper. "I would, Weasley, but watching you flounder about is far too entertaining."
Hermione shot Draco a sharp look, her patience clearly wearing thin. "You never seem to run out of things to say, do you, Malfoy?"
Draco's eyes lingered on her for a moment longer than necessary, but his smirk never wavered. "And why would I? When the three of you make it so easy."
Ron's fists clenched, but Harry held him back with a look. "We don't have time for this," Harry said firmly, turning his back to Draco and Blaise.
Draco's eyes narrowed slightly at the dismissal. He wasn't used to being brushed off so easily. But what irritated him more was the way Hermione followed Harry's lead, turning away from him without another word.
"Oh, come now, Potter," Draco said, his voice dropping lower, more mocking. "What's the rush? Off to meet Krum again, Granger?"
That got Hermione's attention. She turned back to face him, her eyes flashing with irritation. "Whatever I do is none of your concern."
Draco's smirk grew, though his gaze darkened. "Isn't it? You've been spending a lot of time with him lately. I wonder if he's as fascinating as you think."
Ron stepped forward, his face red with anger. "Back off, Malfoy!"
Draco's gaze flicked to Ron, and his smirk grew colder. "Jealous, Weasley? You should be used to it by now."
Hermione crossed her arms, stepping in front of Ron as if to prevent him from charging forward. "We're not doing this today, Malfoy."
Draco's expression didn't falter, though his eyes stayed locked on Hermione. "Afraid, Granger?"
She didn't flinch, her voice steady. "No. Just bored."
The jab hit harder than Draco expected, but he quickly masked the irritation. "Then by all means, continue your fascinating life, Granger. Following Potter and Weasley around like their personal tutor must be thrilling."
Blaise chuckled softly, stepping forward. "Weasley does seem to need a lot of tutoring, doesn't he?"
Ron's fists clenched tighter, but Hermione kept him at bay with a hand on his arm. "He's not worth it, Ron."
Draco's smirk remained, but the dismissal stung more than it should have. She was always so calm, so collected. It was infuriating.
"Listen to Granger," Draco said smoothly. "She's the only reason you've survived this long, anyway."
Before Ron could explode, Harry stepped in, his voice sharp. "Fuck off, Malfoy."
Draco watched them turn to leave, his smirk fading as frustration gnawed at him. They were always walking away, always dismissing him like he didn't matter. And Hermione—she never reacted the way he wanted her to.
Blaise nudged him as they watched the trio disappear into the distance. "Let it go, Draco. They're not worth it."
Draco didn't respond immediately, his eyes still fixed on where Hermione had been standing. "She'll see," he muttered under his breath.
Blaise raised an eyebrow, but he didn't press. "Sure she will," he said lightly. "But don't lose your head over it."
Later that night, Draco sat alone in the dimly lit Slytherin common room, staring into the fire. His father's letter lay crumpled in his hand, but his mind wasn't on the cryptic warnings it contained. It was on Hermione.
You're wasting your time with them, he had told her. But she didn't listen—she never listened. No matter what he said, she always dismissed him, as if he were nothing more than a nuisance. And that was what frustrated him the most.
Draco leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing as he thought about her. She was smarter than Potter and Weasley—he knew that. She was better than them. She didn't belong with them, always cleaning up their messes.
She'll see eventually.
Draco closed his eyes, the flickering fire casting shadows across his face. He didn't need to push too hard. He would wait, bide his time.
But when the moment came, Hermione would see what he had always known.
The sun dipped low over the grounds of Hogwarts as the third task of the Triwizard Tournament approached. The towering hedges of the maze cast long, dark shadows, looming like a living wall over the crowd that gathered to watch. There was a strange sense of expectation in the air, a tension that seemed to thrum beneath the surface.
Draco Malfoy walked slowly with the other Slytherins, making their way toward the stands. He wasn't thinking about the task, not really. His eyes were locked on Hermione Granger, who was standing beside Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. She was talking quietly to Harry, her brow furrowed with worry, her hands fidgeting nervously as she watched him.
It made Draco's stomach turn, watching her worry about Potter as if the boy couldn't handle himself. Hermione was always like this with him—hovering, fussing, and it drove Draco mad. Why did she care so much? What did she see in Potter that made her cling to him like that?
"You've got that look again," Blaise Zabini muttered beside Draco, his voice low but teasing. "The one where you're pretending you don't care, but you clearly do."
Draco shot him a sharp look. "Shut it, Zabini."
Blaise chuckled, but didn't push further. Draco's gaze returned to Hermione, who was still talking to Potter, her face set with worry. She looked like she was giving him last-minute advice, her hands fluttering as she spoke, and Potter, as usual, looked clueless. Draco clenched his jaw. Of course, Potter would look like that—he was always relying on Hermione to do the thinking for him.
"She's going to hover around him like that all night," Theo Nott said as he appeared beside them. "It's ridiculous."
Draco nodded curtly, his irritation bubbling to the surface. "She's wasting her time."
Theo glanced at him with a smirk. "You seem pretty bothered by it."
"I'm not bothered," Draco snapped, though even he could hear the bite in his voice.
Blaise chuckled again, clearly enjoying himself. "Whatever you say, Draco."
The whistle blew then, signaling the start of the task. The four champions stood at the entrance of the maze, each holding their wands, their expressions set with determination. The crowd grew quiet, the tension rising as everyone watched.
Draco's eyes followed Cedric Diggory as he entered the maze first, his tall frame disappearing into the dark hedges. Then Fleur Delacour followed, her face calm and focused. Viktor Krum stepped up next, giving a brief nod to the Durmstrang students before he, too, disappeared into the maze.
Finally, it was Potter's turn. Draco's gaze flicked back to Hermione. She was standing even closer to Harry now, her hand resting on his arm as she whispered something to him. Harry nodded, his face pale but resolute, before stepping forward and vanishing into the maze.
"Honestly," Draco muttered under his breath, watching as Hermione stood at the edge of the stands, her eyes glued to the maze entrance. "She's acting like he's going to die the moment he steps in."
Theo leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "She acts like that every time. It's Potter. She'll never let him go."
Draco's lips twisted into a sneer. "She's wasting her energy on him."
Blaise glanced at Draco, a knowing smirk on his face. "And yet, you keep watching her."
Draco glared at him, but didn't respond. His chest tightened with frustration as he watched Hermione, still standing at the front of the stands, her hands clasped in front of her as she anxiously waited for any sign of Harry. It was infuriating.
"She acts like he can't take a step without her," Draco muttered. "It's pathetic."
"She's too invested," Theo agreed, leaning back in his seat. "Potter won't even make it halfway through the maze before she's falling apart."
Draco's gaze remained fixed on Hermione. Her attention was completely focused on the maze, her eyes never leaving the entrance. He could see the way her hands trembled slightly, the way she bit her lip nervously as the minutes ticked by. She didn't even realize how obvious she was being, how much she was giving away.
Inside the maze, Harry felt as though the walls were closing in on him. The towering hedges shifted and twisted with every turn, the paths growing narrower and darker the deeper he went. The air was cold and damp, and there was an unsettling silence that hung over everything.
He had expected to encounter creatures—maybe more Blast-Ended Skrewts, or worse—but so far, the maze had been eerily empty. That only made Harry more anxious. He knew the calm wouldn't last.
Suddenly, the ground beneath Harry's feet gave way, and he fell, his body crashing into a deep pit. Mud, thick and cold, swallowed him up to his waist before he could even react. Panic surged through him as he struggled to pull himself free, but the more he fought, the deeper he sank.
No... no, not like this!
Desperately, Harry grabbed his wand and shouted, "Wingardium Leviosa!" His body lifted off the ground just in time, hovering above the pit before landing roughly on the other side. He collapsed, gasping for breath, his heart racing.
But there was no time to rest.
A low growl echoed from somewhere nearby, and Harry's head snapped up as a massive figure appeared in the darkness. It was like nothing he had ever seen—part lion, part dragon, its eyes glowing red as it stalked toward him.
"Protego!" Harry shouted, casting a shield just as the creature lunged. The force of the blow sent him stumbling backward, but the shield held.
The creature growled again, its eyes narrowing as it advanced, and Harry's heart raced as he prepared for another attack.
Back in the stands, the maze remained eerily quiet, though flashes of light and distant roars could occasionally be heard from within. The crowd murmured with excitement and fear, but Draco's focus was entirely on Hermione. She hadn't moved since Potter had entered the maze, her eyes never leaving the entrance, her face set in tense concentration.
"She looks like she's going to collapse if Potter so much as sneezes in there," Blaise muttered, shaking his head.
Draco's grip tightened on the armrest of his seat, his irritation growing by the second. "She's pathetic, worrying about him like this. He'll get through it—he always does. She's wasting her time."
Theo raised an eyebrow. "You've said that already."
Draco ignored him, his gaze still fixed on Hermione. She hadn't taken her eyes off the maze, her face pale and drawn with worry. It was driving Draco mad. Why did she care so much? Why couldn't she see that Potter didn't deserve her concern?
"They act like he's invincible," Draco muttered. "Like he's always going to come out on top."
Theo smirked. "Well, so far, he has."
"That doesn't mean he will this time," Draco snapped. He could feel the frustration bubbling up inside him, threatening to spill over. He hated this—hated how much Hermione cared about Potter, hated how she didn't see anything outside of that little world she had built with him and Weasley.
The minutes stretched on, and the maze remained quiet. The crowd grew restless, murmuring amongst themselves as they waited for any sign of the champions. Every so often, a distant flash of light or the sound of a roar would echo from within, but there was no clear indication of what was happening inside.
Then, without warning, a bright green light shot up into the sky from within the maze, casting an eerie glow over the stands. The crowd gasped, and Draco sat up straighter, his heart pounding in his chest.
"What the hell was that?" Theo asked, his voice tense.
Draco didn't answer. He could feel something was wrong. The green light... it wasn't right. It was unnatural, sickening. Hermione, too, had gone rigid, her hands gripping the edge of the railing as she stared at the maze, her face drained of color.
The silence that followed was deafening. No one moved, no one spoke. The green light flickered ominously in the sky, and for a moment, it felt as though the entire world had stopped.
And then, without warning, Harry Potter stumbled out of the maze.
The stands around the maze erupted in cheers as Harry Potter stumbled out, clutching the Triwizard Cup in one hand. But the celebration quickly died down. There was something wrong. Harry didn't look victorious—he looked terrified. His face was pale, his eyes wide, his entire body trembling as he collapsed to his knees on the soft grass.
Hermione was the first to react. She bolted from her spot, rushing toward Harry without hesitation. "Harry! Harry, what happened?" Her voice was tight with fear, her hands reaching for him as if to ground him to reality.
Harry could barely catch his breath, his chest heaving as he gasped, "He's back... Voldemort's back."
The words echoed through the stands like a curse. A heavy silence fell over the crowd as Harry's declaration sent waves of shock and disbelief rippling through the students and professors. No one moved. No one spoke. It was as if time had stopped in the wake of Harry's words.
"Harry... what are you saying?" Hermione's voice trembled, her hands clutching his shoulders as she knelt beside him, her face a mix of disbelief and horror.
Harry's eyes were wild, filled with panic as he repeated the words. "Voldemort... he's back. He's back... I saw him..."
Draco, standing rigidly in the stands, felt the world spin beneath him. His heart pounded in his chest, his breath coming in shallow bursts. The Dark Lord... back? His mind raced, trying to make sense of what Harry was saying, but the weight of those words hung over him like a leaden cloud.
Theo, who had been sitting beside Draco, stared down at Harry with wide eyes, his usually calm demeanor shattered. "Did he just say... Voldemort?"
Blaise, for once, had nothing to say. His smirk was gone, his face pale as he watched the scene unfold. "No... it can't be," Blaise muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. "He's lying. This has to be some kind of mistake."
But Draco knew it wasn't. He could feel it in his bones, the truth of it settling like ice in his veins. Voldemort is back. The name—the name he had been raised to fear, to worship—now sent a wave of dread through him that he had never felt before.
Draco's eyes shifted to Hermione, who was still clinging to Harry, her face pale and stricken with horror. She was whispering something to him, trying to comfort him, but Draco couldn't hear the words. All he could see was the fear etched into her expression, the way her hands trembled as she gripped Harry's shoulders. She looked terrified, more scared than Draco had ever seen her, and for some reason, that sent a pang of something sharp through his chest.
"She believes him," Theo whispered, breaking the silence between them. "Granger... she believes every word he's saying."
Draco clenched his fists at his sides, his nails digging into his palms. "Of course she does," he muttered, though his voice lacked the usual bitterness. The sight of Hermione so shaken, so vulnerable, made his stomach twist in knots. She was always the one holding everyone together, always the calm in the storm. But now... now she looked just as broken as Potter.
"He can't be back," Blaise muttered, his voice shaky. "I mean... if he really is..."
Draco didn't respond. He couldn't. His mind was racing, his chest tight with a growing sense of panic. He had spent his whole life hearing whispers of the Dark Lord, tales of his rise, his fall, his inevitable return. But those were just stories, things his father and the others spoke of in hushed tones, never fully real. Now, though, it was real. The Dark Lord had returned, and everything was about to change.
"Draco," Theo said quietly, nudging him. "What's going on? You don't... you don't think it's true, do you?"
Draco swallowed hard, his gaze fixed on the scene below. Dumbledore and the other professors had rushed to Harry's side, but nothing could stop the raw panic spreading like wildfire through the students. Gasps, whispers, and stifled cries filled the air, but all Draco could focus on was Hermione, still kneeling beside Harry, her face a mask of shock and disbelief.
"I don't know," Draco admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. The admission felt foreign on his tongue—Draco Malfoy never admitted to not knowing—but right now, he didn't have any answers. He felt utterly lost, the ground crumbling beneath his feet.
Theo frowned, his usual smirk replaced by a deep crease of worry. "If he really is back..."
Draco shot him a sharp look. "Don't," he snapped, cutting Theo off before he could finish the thought. The very idea of Voldemort returning, of the chaos that would follow, was too much to bear.
Below, Harry was still gasping for breath, his body shaking as he clutched the Triwizard Cup like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. Hermione was murmuring to him softly, her voice full of concern, but her eyes were wide with fear.
"I saw him," Harry whispered, his voice hoarse. "In the graveyard. Wormtail... he did the ritual... I couldn't stop him. Cedric—he killed Cedric..."
Hermione gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as she looked at Harry, her eyes brimming with tears. "Cedric... he's..."
"He's dead," Harry choked out, his voice trembling. "Voldemort... he's back, Hermione. I couldn't stop him."
Draco's stomach lurched at the mention of Cedric's death. He could feel the panic rising in his chest, threatening to choke him. This wasn't just some story anymore—this was real. People were dying. Voldemort was back, and people were going to die.
"I don't... I don't understand," Theo muttered, his voice barely audible. "How could this happen? How could Potter have let this happen?"
Draco didn't respond. He could barely hear Theo's words over the roar of blood in his ears. His eyes were fixed on Hermione, her face pale and stricken with grief as she processed what Harry was telling her. For a moment, Draco felt a surge of anger—anger at Potter for dragging Hermione into this, for making her feel this kind of pain. She shouldn't have to deal with this. She didn't deserve it.
Blaise let out a low breath, his face ashen. "This is... insane. Cedric Diggory, dead? And... You-Know-Who?"
Draco felt as though he couldn't breathe. His thoughts were spinning, his heart pounding painfully in his chest. Voldemort is back. The words echoed in his mind, drowning out everything else. He glanced at the other Slytherins, many of whom looked just as shaken as he felt. Even the most hardened students, those raised in pureblood families who had always spoken of Voldemort with reverence, now seemed uncertain, frightened even.
"What do we do now?" Theo asked quietly, glancing at Draco with wide eyes. For once, he didn't have a snarky comment, didn't have anything clever to say. He just looked... lost.
Draco didn't know how to answer. He had been raised to follow in his father's footsteps, to serve the Dark Lord if the time ever came. But now that the time had come, now that Voldemort had truly returned, Draco felt nothing but a cold, creeping dread.
"I don't know," Draco muttered, his voice tight. "I don't know what happens now."
His eyes flicked to Hermione once more. She was still with Harry, holding him as though her touch alone could keep him grounded. It made Draco's chest ache, watching her like this—watching her break over Potter.
Draco's mind whirled. Everything had changed. Nothing would ever be the same. And somehow, in the midst of it all, all he could think about was how to keep Hermione safe from the storm that was coming.
