TW : emetophobia (beginning of the chapter until the 3rd POV)

13 : tensions, questions, obsession

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Draco

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"No one asked you, you filthy little Mudblood." he spat.

The insult slid off his tongue. It was the first time he had ever spoken the word. He had heard it hundreds of times before from his parents or his Slytherin friends, but he had never said it himself. Perhaps he hadn't had the chance until now.

The effect was immediate: the tension that had been building up since the Slytherins had burst onto the pitch exploded. The Weasley twins threw themselves at Draco, the girls on the opposite team screamed in outrage, and Ron Weasley pulled his wand from his pocket. Flint only had time to step in and prevent the Weasley twins from hitting Draco.

He had to admit that he didn't think the insult was as outrageous as it was, he was surprised at the Gryffindors' reaction. He was used to the word, and they all knew that Granger was a Muggle-born, right? Instead of looking at the startled faces of the Gryffindors, Draco stared at Granger. She had a crease between her eyebrows, and was looking around trying to figure out what he had just said.

So, she didn't know what a Mudblood was... The thought pleased him. He loved seeing her humiliated like that, put in her place.

Of course, Ron Weasley wanted to defend Granger and pointed his wand at Draco. A bang sounded around them and a jet hit Weasley hard and he fell to the ground. For a moment Draco thought he had held his wand upside down, but it was worse: Weasley's wand, which was now beside him on the grass, was broken and held together by tape, with strands of wood sticking out despite the adhesive. Suddenly Weasley bent down and vomited on the ground: a huge slug fell into his lap, then a second, third, and fourth.

Draco burst out laughing, tears of joy welling up in the corners of his eyes. He couldn't have asked for a better scenario. Granger and Potter grabbed him by the arms and helped him to his feet, picked up his wand from the ground, then carried him with difficulty to the edge of the field, before disappearing over the horizon.

Draco wiped away the tears of laughter that had fallen. Now that they were gone, Flint strode over to Wood and asked him to give them the field. Anyway, Potter was gone, they couldn't practice anymore. The Gryffindor captain capitulated bitterly and grabbed his broom to grumble his way back to the Castle.

One of the Weasley twins then approached Draco. He towered over him in height and had an expression that was far from the giggles Draco had just had: dark, and angry.

"You. That's the last time you say that word in front of me, and especially to Hermione. Is that clear?" he said coldly.

"Yet that's what she is, isn't it?" said Draco in an unsure voice.

He wasn't afraid of the Weasleys, but of all the ones he'd ever seen, the twins were the most threatening of them: they were super tall, and muscular from Quidditch.

"Listen to me, you pretentious git. Hermione is my friend, and I don't want her insulted like that ever again. She hasn't done anything to you. Leave her alone, just because you're Lucius Malfoy's son doesn't mean you're scaring anyone here."

He gauged Draco with his angry gaze and there was a long silence where the two looked at each other with hatred, until the other twin put a hand on his brother's shoulder:

"Come on Fred, he's not worth it."

Draco watched the two redheads return to the Castle, then thought back to what had just happened, and grinned wickedly: he had shocked Potter, insulted Granger, and made Weasley vomit slugs. It was a great day.

Hermione

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Hermione helped Ron across the yard to Hagrid's hut. He was very pale. Every time he opened his mouth, he spat out slugs that fell to the grass. When they reached Hagrid's hut, the door opened, and Professor Lockhart came out into the courtyard first.

"Quick, this way!" whispered Harry, taking Ron behind a bush to hide.

Hermione followed them, even though she would have liked to talk to Lockhart. She would never have admitted it to Ron and Harry, but she found him very interesting, and more importantly, very handsome.

"You just have to know how to handle it!" Lockhart said to Hagrid. "If you need help, you know where to find me! I'll send you a copy of my book. I'm surprised you've never read it. I'll sign one for you tonight and have it brought to you. Well, goodbye!"

Hermione followed Lockhart with her eyes as he walked away towards the Castle, then carried Ron back to the entrance of the cabin. Harry banged on the door and Hagrid opened it. When he saw them, he grinned widely:

"I was wondering when you'd come to see me!" he said. "Come in, come in. I thought it was Professor Lockhart coming back."

They entered the hut, which was much nicer than the outside thanks to the fire purring in the gamekeeper's fireplace. Harry helped Ron to a chair as he told Hagrid what had happened.

"They'd better come out." Hagrid said as he set a large copper basin in front of Ron, "Go on, get rid of those nasty beasts."

"I don't think there's much to do. We'll just have to wait for it to pass." Hermione said in a worried tone as she saw Ron leaning over the basin. "It's already a difficult spell to cast under normal circumstances, but with a broken wand..."

Ron was throwing up a little less, but he was still livid. Hagrid prepared some tea and placed three cups in front of them, but Ron turned it down with a nod before plunging it back into the basin.

"What was Lockhart doing at your house, Hagrid?" asked Harry.

"He was giving me advice on how to get kelpies out of a well." Hagrid growled. "Like I don't know how to do that! And banging on

about some banshee he banished. I'm ready to eat my kettle if a single word he says is true."

Hermione looked at Hagrid with wide eyes: she had never heard him speak ill of anyone, let alone a teacher.

"I think you're being a bit unfair." Hermione said. "Obviously Professor Dumbledore thought he was the best person for the job..."

"He wasn't the best, he was the only one!" cut in Hagrid. "The one and only. It's getting very difficult to find a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. People don't really want to go into it. They say it's a cursed position. Nobody has managed to hold it for very long. And now, tell me a little bit about who he tried to cast a spell on?"

"Malfoy called Hermione something..." Harry said as Hermione slumped back in her chair, embarrassed. "It must've been really bad, because everyone went wild."

"It was really terrible." Ron said hoarsely, lifting his head. "Malfoy called her a... a Mudblood."

Ron dipped his head back into the basin to pour a fresh stream of slugs into it. Hagrid grunted in outrage and looked at Hermione.

"He didn't!"

"Yes he did..." said Hermione in a small voice. "But I don't know what it means... It's probably very rude..."

Hermione remembered Malfoy's face when he had said that word. She had never heard that word before, but just the way he had spat it out with his eyes filled with rage had frozen her in place. He really looked like he hated her.

"That's the most insulting thing you can imagine." Ron hiccupped, "Mudblood, that's an odious slur for someone who was born into a Muggle family. Some wizards, the Malfoy family, for example, are convinced that they are much better than others because they have what is called pure blood. The other wizards know that it doesn't matter. Look at Neville, for example, he comes from a pure-blooded family, but he can barely keep a cauldron standing."

She suspected that he had used that insult to refer to her Muggle parents, but hearing him say it hurt. Hermione suddenly felt ashamed, dirty. She had never been insulted like that.

"And they never invented a spell that Hermione couldn't do again." Hagrid said proudly.

Hermione looked at Hagrid with a small smile. He always had the right words to comfort her.

"That's a disgusting insult." Ron said, mopping his brow. "Like telling someone their blood is dirty. What madness! Most wizards these days are half-blood anyway. If we hadn't married Muggles, we'd've died out."

"I can see why you tried to put a spell on him, Ron," Hagrid said. "But maybe it's a good thing your wand was misfiring. If you'd managed to cast a spell on his son, Lucius Malfoy would have rushed here. At least this way you won't get into trouble."

Hermione nodded her head in agreement. She didn't want Harry or Ron to fight Malfoy, he seemed desperate for attention, and he didn't deserve any. She had thought they might become friends at the beginning of last year, but the boy was far too hateful and angry to deserve that.

However, no matter how much Hermione thought that, Draco's insult kept running through her head. He'd had no trouble saying it, as if he'd been thinking it all along. Had he hated her since the day he'd learned she was muggle-born? Or since the day she'd befriended Ron and Harry? Did he really think her blood was dirty, or was it an idea he had interned because of her parents?

Hermione was no longer listening to the conversation around her, too busy rehashing Draco's insult. When Hagrid stood up to show them his vegetable garden, she tried to push her thoughts out of her head to look at the huge pumpkins at their feet:

"An Engorgement Charm, I suppose?" asked Hermione. "You did a good job!"

Hermione re-entered the hut and drank her cinnamon tea, but did not take part in the discussion. Despite herself, the image of Malfoy was still in her head. This was the first time in her life that someone had hated her so much, and Hermione couldn't understand what she had done to deserve this.

Draco

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"Well? These brooms?" asked Pansy.

Draco and Blaise arrived at the Library table where Pansy and Nott were working on their Transfiguration essays. Well, it was more like Theo was writing Pansy's Transfiguration essay while Pansy applied a coat of black lipstick to her lips and looked at herself in her little pocket mirror.

"Incredible." commented Blaise. "We've been practicing with it all afternoon."

Draco sat at the Library table next to Nott who was muttering his sentences in a low voice as he wrote them down at speed with his quill.

"How much did you pay him to do your homework for you?" asked Draco of Pansy with a smirk.

"Paid? He's only doing it out of kindness, and because I'm pretty." she replied smoothly.

Theo chuckled but continued to write. He hardly lifted his pen because he wrote so quickly.

"I'm bored." continued Pansy who had finished putting on her lipstick. "I was supposed to go see Daphne, but she's hanging out with her boyfriend."

She exaggeratedly rolled her eyes as she said this to show that she didn't approve of the boyfriend in question at all. Draco had the impression that Pansy didn't like many people, she was always making negative comments when talking about others. Then he remembered what he had said to Granger that day and thought to himself that he was probably doing the same thing.

"You could do your homework, it'll keep you busy." Theo said sarcastically.

"Why would I do that when you do it so well for me, Nott?"

"Do you want to go to dinner?" offered Draco, looking at the clock.

"We had to go, I have to eat early tonight. My detention is at eight." said Blaise as he stood up.

"What do you have to do?"

"Wash the floor in the owlery."

"Outch." replied Draco and Pansy at the same time.

"And the horrible thing is that I have to do it with Crabbe. I'd have preferred to do it alone, it would have taken longer but I wouldn't have had to ignore him." he said.

"Me, I'm staying here." said Theo without looking up from his parchments. "I want to get ahead on next week's homework, go ahead without me."

"Afraid I'll pass you by, Nott?" asked Draco with an evil little laugh.

"Not even in a dream. It's just a precaution."

So Blaise, Pansy and Draco walked out of the Library. Draco had no chance of beating Nott, let alone Granger, they were far too motivated for him to hope to outrun them. If he stayed in the top five in the school, he was fine.

As they passed the large door of the Library, they passed Neville Longbottom with a small pile of books in his arms, trotting to the hall, presumably to return them. He was out of breath and his cheeks were flushed, as if he'd just run around the Castle when he'd just climbed some stairs. Draco smiled with all his teeth and looked at Pansy out of the corner of his eye, who must have understood his best friend's intentions because she approached Longbottom and asked in a sly voice:

"So Longbottom, did we get lost?"

He looked up and was startled to see Draco and Pansy. Blaise had leaned back against the corridor window, uninterested in bothering Longbottom.

"No, I'm going to the Lib... Library." the boy stammered.

Longbottom

"Why? Everyone knows you're going to be last in line anyway." hissed Pansy with a smile.

Longbottom' shoulders slumped and Draco chuckled.

"Or are you looking for a book on Squibs? Don't worry Longbottom, Filch will soon give up his position as caretaker to you." he said.

"With any luck he'll even lend you his broom, it's probably the only one you'll be able to ride on." Pansy replied with a laugh.

"Stop it!" shouted Longbottom, lowering his head.

Longbottom then did something Draco hadn't planned at all: he pulled out his wand and waved it in the air at Pansy. It was a good thing he was as quick as Crabbe and Goyle, because by the time he said the spell, Draco had already pulled his own wand from his pocket and pointed it at him. He then cast the first spell that came to mind:

"Imbrem scintillae!"

His wand vibrated in his palm and sent out a spray of orange sparks that ricocheted off the ground and hit Longbottom's hand directly, causing him to scream in pain. He dropped his wand and held his palm as he hopped around.

For a split second, Draco's mouth dropped open and his eyes went wide. He had read about this spell in his Charms book and had never produced it until now. And he realised with dismay that he had no idea it was going to do that.

He swallowed and quickly shook off his shocked expression to put on his famous proud grin. Before Longbottom could retrieve his wand from the floor, he and Pansy fled down the stairs to the Great Hall. When they arrived, dinner had just begun.

Blaise joined them a few minutes later:

"What was that?" he asked sharply.

"A spell... That I read, in a book." Draco explained as he sat down at the Slytherin table.

"Did you know it was going to do that?" asked Pansy.

"No..."

Blaise gave him a long look, then warned him with a whisper:

"Dray, I know you like messing with Longbottom but... It's dangerous, saying spells like that without knowing what they do. You really could have hurt him."

"It's okay, it's just Longbottom." hissed Draco, embarrassed at being berated by his best mate.

"Yeah, he didn't do anything wrong, it was just a bit of sparking." cut in Pansy dryly. "Stop lecturing, Zabini."

Blaise didn't reply, but Draco could feel his disapproving gaze on him, which he tried to ignore as he ate and tried to calm the frightened beating of his heart.

Hermione

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When Hermione finished dinner, she went back to the Gryffindors' Common Room alone, because Ron and Harry both had their detentions to make.

"Red robin." Hermione said to the portrait of the Fat Lady, who let her pass.

She walked into the Common Room and sat down on the couch in front of the fireplace where the fire was warming the whole circular room. She didn't feel much like doing her homework, or even reading. Without wanting to admit it to herself, she was still hurt by the insult Malfoy had said to her earlier in the morning. Hermione hated the fact that she felt so touched by such a vile boy, but she couldn't stop thinking about it. And with it came the horrible feeling of humiliation that she had never felt before.

In primary school, children had already made remarks about her bushy hair, or her teeth that were a little too long. She had been teased before, but had always managed to ignore it or not feel affected. But this time it was different.

Something had deeply offended her when she'd heard that insult, because it wasn't as derisive as her looks or the fact that she could be a Miss Know-It-All, it was about her family. Her origins. Her blood. It was violent, mean, hurtful. She never thought Draco would want to hurt her so badly.

It was the worst birthday of her life.

"Hermione?"

She looked up and saw Neville standing in front of her on the sofa. She turned her head and saw that the Hall had filled up, but she hadn't noticed because of her sullen thoughts.

"Oh, hey Neville."

He gave her a long look, which embarrassed her a little:

"Yes? Do you need anything?"

"Uh..."

He showed her a stack of books he was carrying and Hermione realised what day it was.

"Oh, sorry Neville, I completely forgot it was Saturday!"

She and Neville had instituted a homework support day to help Neville with essays due, or lessons to learn, especially in Potions class, every Saturday. With the boys' restraint and the strange day they'd had, she'd forgotten that she was supposed to study him on the properties of moondew.

She stood up briskly on the sofa and made a move to get up and fetch her books, but Neville stopped her by putting a hand on her shoulder:

"Don't worry, we'll do it tomorrow. You don't look so good, are you alright? Where are Harry and Ron?"

"Ron's in the trophy room polishing up with Filch, and Harry's with Lockhart answering fan mail."

"Ah... They had to pay for their flying car arrival, I presume. Why are you so sad, then? Do you miss your family?"

Hermione watched Neville sit next to her on the sofa with a sympathetic face. She sighed:

"No... Well, yes, but that's not why I'm sad. Malfoy insulted me. He told me... that... that I was a Mudblood..."

Neville opened his eyes wide and made the same horrified face as Hagrid. It made Hermione's stomach hurt even more: it really should be a very rude insult for all wizards to react like that.

"What! What a jerk!"

"Yes... Ron explained to me what that means, and ever since then I've been feeling... a little humiliated."

"You have no reason to be, Hermione, you're the smartest witch I've ever met."

"That's kind, Neville. Thank you very much."

Hermione was usually very appreciative of compliments, but now she felt almost more ashamed than before. Because Malfoy had not only insulted her skills, but also her background. He was questioning her place here, this idea that had crept into her and made her study to be first everywhere: to earn her place at Hogwarts with all those amazing wizards.

"If it's any consolation, Malfoy is horrible to everyone, not just Muggle-borns." said Neville. "It shows he's an idiot, because he's mean for no reason."

"You mean with Ron and Harry?"

"Yes, among others. And me too."

Neville then raised his palm and Hermione saw with horror that he had a large red burn running across his palm.

"Did he do that to you?!"

"Yes, just an hour ago."

"How?"

"He cast a spell that caused sparks and burned my hand, but I didn't know it and I don't remember the incantation. He was with Parkinson and Zabini."

Hermione closed her eyes for a few seconds. She knew the spell, she had read about it in the Charms book, and it was strongly discouraged to use it in front of someone because it could burn, but Malfoy must have used it on purpose to hurt Neville. She felt anger tighten in her throat.

"And Parkinson and Zabini helped him, I suppose?"

"Parkinson was next to him, but she must not have expected him to cast that spell because she was scared, and Zabini was in the back. I get the impression he doesn't like Malfoy very much."

Hermione had noticed that Blaise Zabini never took part in Draco's confrontations, he always stayed away. Usually it was Crabbe and Goyle who were in charge of escorting him.

"You must tell Professor McGonagall."

"It wouldn't do any good, I have no proof it was him, and I don't want to tell her. I'm a bit ashamed that I didn't manage to defend myself." he added piteously.

"You shouldn't! I wouldn't have been able to defend myself either, you must have been so scared!"

Neville gave her a small, shy smile:

"And you shouldn't feel bad after hearing what he said. You shouldn't let him get to you like that, he doesn't deserve your sorrow."

Hermione looked at Neville whose cheeks were a little rosier than usual. He avoided her gaze a little after saying that, but she took his hand anyway to thank him:

"Thank you Neville."

She turned Neville's palm over and watched the burn spread all over his hand as she frowned:

"You should put some Dittany's essence on there. It will ease the burn."

"Did you hurt yourself, Neville?" asked Ginny Weasley as she sat down on the couch next to Hermione.

Neville briskly removed his hand from Hermione's, blushing:

"I scratched myself when I fell." he lied in a small voice.

"How are you doing, Ginny?" asked Hermione, turning to the redhead. "How are your classes going?"

"Good, good."

Hermione noticed that Ginny looked like she was lying too. She didn't look much like the girl she'd met on the Hogwarts Express anymore: she was pale, had large purple rings under her veiled eyes, and was holding a pillow against her like a buoy in the ocean.

"Are you sure?" insisted Hermione.

"Yes, yes. Just a bit sick, I have a cold."

"You should go to the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey is giving some Pepperup Potion, it works every time." she advised.

"I'm fine, I'm fine." replied Ginny absently.

They were joined by Dean Thomas and the Weasley twins and talked for a long time, until the fire went out on its own and all the students in the Common Room had left one by one for the dormitories. It was pitch black outside.

"Poor Harry and Ron, haven't they finished their detention yet?" asked George.

"No. I wanted to wait for them, but I'm too tired." Hermione said as she stood up. "Sorry again about tonight Neville, shall we study tomorrow in the Library after breakfast?"

"Alright, thanks Hermione."

"Good night Hermione!" the remaining students called out as she said good night.

Hermione walked up the stairs to her dormitory with a yawn. When she entered, both Lavender and Parvati's beds were empty. The girls often spent time in the other dormitories on the floor and returned after Hermione had gone to bed, so she wasn't surprised that they weren't there.

Hermione walked over to the small desk in the corner of her room and took out some paper and her quill and began to write:

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Dear Danny,

How are you? I feel like it's been months since we left each other, but it's only been two weeks. I hope you had a good first day of school and finished that science presentation you told me about over the summer. If not, I'd be happy to help you, I've read a few books on crystallization.

It's a bit crazy here. Classes have started again and the teachers have not hesitated to give us graded assignments in the first week. I'm in the boarding school library every day studying.

Harry and Ron are doing very well, I see them often outside of class and in free time. They managed to get a detention on the first day! I was mad at them, but you can't stay mad at those two for very long.

There's also another boy... You'd hate him. He's arrogant, and prejudiced about girls, and he's always calling us names. I think he's just jealous that I'm stronger than him in certain subjects, so he gets back at me by being mean.

Anyway, other than that, it's business as usual. I miss you and Mary a lot. I hope she is well too, and that she enjoyed her holiday. I'll write her a letter next week when I have a bit more to tell. Apart from school, I'm not doing much with my day at the moment. How is your family? And your friends at school?

I can't wait to see you again, probably at Christmas.

I look forward to hearing from you,

With love,

Hermione.

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Hermione reread her letter several times to try and detect if everything matched what she had made up about school, and when she was satisfied, she folded the letter and put it aside and started writing to her parents. She told them about her homecoming week, but avoided talking about Draco Malfoy so as not to worry them. She just wanted to talk about it with Danny, a complete outsider to Hogwarts who she could confide in without any problems.

She finished writing, put the two letters on her bedside table to be posted the next day, and fell asleep shortly afterwards.

Draco

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"Poor"? "Poor"? Is this a joke?" yelped Draco.

He turned to see the grade Nott had gotten on his Transfiguration essay, and swore when he saw an "Outstanding." Unfortunately, McGonagall must have heard his swear word because she turned and gave him a cold look over the top of her glasses:

"Something to say, Mr. Malfoy? Do you not like your grade?"

"Professor..."

"Because you probably know what you need to do to improve it and surpass Mr. Nott's excellent work, I presume? By working, for example?" she cut in before continuing her distribution of essays.

"Did you hear that?" whispered Theo with a smile. "Working to top my excellent work, was that what she said?"

"Shut the hell up, Nott."

Draco turned to look at Pansy who was sitting on the desk behind him, next to Blaise. She showed him her copy without a word, "Exceeds Expectations."

"What? How could you get more than me?" he asked.

Pansy looked outraged.

"Excuse me?" she hissed. "Because it's surprising that I could be better than you somewhere, Malfoy?"

"No, but..."

Draco met Nott's amused gaze and remembered that he had actually written Pansy's essay entirely. He contracted his jaw and turned to Blaise, who shrugged and muttered:

"Exceeds Expectations."

Draco let out another swear word through his teeth, which McGonagall thankfully didn't hear because she was berating Crabbe and Goyle, who had both received the miserable mark of 'Troll', and who had also turned in the same paper to the word.

Draco brooded until dinner. He really thought he'd passed this paper, he'd expected to get at least an Acceptable.

"Stop pouting, Dray," said Blaise, digging into his omelette. "It's just a grade, it won't change your ranking."

"Yes, you'll catch up easily," added Theo.

"Easy to say, you're second in practically every subject," Draco grumbled hoarsely.

"Do what I do!" offered Pansy. "Stop working, and stop giving a damn about your place in the rankings!"

She frantically cut her omelette. Nott frowned:

"Your father won't yell at you, Pans'?"

"No." she said with a shrug. "He told me that as long as I had a good reputation and didn't hang out with impure people, he didn't care about grades."

"That's weird, right?" continued Theo.

Pansy sighed.

"My father is convinced that if I find a good husband, if he's Pureblood and respected, then my life will probably be over. He doesn't care about my education, he just wants me to wear a stupid headband on my hair and be polite, and elegant."

"As far as politeness goes, that's not it..." scoffed Blaise.

Pansy threw her towel over his head and gave him the finger, and Blaise burst out laughing:

"Ah, so sorry, apologies, you're perfectly polite."

"I don't care what my father wants." Pansy said, hiding a smile. "As long as I come home in decent clothes and keep my mouth shut, he leaves me alone, and that's the main thing."

"Me, my dad gets on my nerves about it. He wants me to be first everywhere." Draco lamented.

"It's impossible to be first everywhere. Forget it. And your father isn't here now, so don't undermine yourself over a grade. I'll help you with the next essay, if you want." said Theo before gulping down his glass of water.

Draco grumbled and looked over Pansy's shoulder who was sitting across from him. From there he could see Granger's happy face come alive as she spoke with Longbottom. It was possible to be first, the Mudblood was, and he didn't even know how.

He didn't speak the whole way back to the Common Room. Pansy said the password, "Viridis", and the door opened in the wall to let them through. Inside, it was as cold as the dungeons, and they could hear the lake lapping against the stone walls around the fireplace.

Pansy and Draco sat down on one of the sofas, Blaise in one chair and Theo in another. Draco was not listening to the conversation his friends were having, his thoughts were cogitating, as they often did. He had a bad habit of ruminating on his own thoughts over and over when he was stressed, or pissed off.

"Did Longbottom complain about what you did to him, Dray?" asked Blaise, which suddenly snapped him out of his preoccupation.

"What?"

"Longbottom? Did he complain?"

"No." replied Pansy in Draco's place. "He didn't complain, stop worrying, it was nothing."

"What was what?" asked Nott who had his nose buried in a book.

"Draco had fun casting a spell on Longbottom to annoy him and it ricocheted, it scratched his hand." Pansy explained in an irritated tone.

"Not just scratched, it burned his whole palm." corrected Blaise.

"How do you know, you healed him afterwards? Did you join him in his bed and kiss him to comfort him?" scoffed Pansy.

Blaise made a disgusted face:

"Nonsense. I'm just saying it could have ended badly for Draco, that's all."

"What was the spell?" asked Theo.

"Could you at least look at us when you talk to us, Theo?" squeaked Pansy. "Would it kill you to look up from your book?"

"Why? I can read and listen to your honeyed voice just fine, Parkinson."

"I'm sure it was Granger who fixed his hand." Draco said.

Pansy sighed and Blaise rolled his eyes:

"Come on! Again!"

"What?" the blonde asked.

"Granger this, Granger that. You keep talking about her!" said Pansy, suddenly annoyed. "Do you realize that all you've done is talk about her every night this week?"

"What?" repeated Draco, incensed. "Nonsense."

"Granger's first in the rankings, Granger succeeded in her potion, Granger's got a monster tuft of hair, Granger probably went crying when I called her a Mudblood.." said Pansy, imitating Draco's drawl. "You're obsessed with her!"

"Not at all!" contested Draco.

"And when it's not her, it's Potter, or Weasley!" interjected Blaise. "You need to stop being so hateful towards these people, Dray, it's going to eat away at your insides."

"But they're..."

"Horrible, we know." said Pansy, rolling her eyes again. "We get it. We agree with you, but you have to move on!"

Draco looked in dismay at his friends. Pansy was irritated, Blaise was looking like a wise adult who wanted to give advice, and Nott was still engrossed in his book. He suddenly felt a wave of anger rise within him and he stood up, glaring at them icily:

"Fine. Since you are all against me."

And he headed straight for the door of the Common Room to get some fresh air. Behind him he heard the vague protests of his friends ("ohh, stay, Draco!", "stop pouting", "we're listening to you Dray!") but he ignored them and found himself in the corridor.

Everything was quiet, even though it wasn't past curfew yet.

Draco loved his Common Room in the dungeons, but he soon felt suffocated. He needed some fresh air. He quickly climbed the stairs to the Hall, passed through the large doors of the Castle and found himself in the courtyard. He sat on one of the far benches and kicked the small piles of dead leaves under his feet to let off steam.

Sometimes he felt waves of anger. They came without warning, for more or less valid reasons, and crashed into him, destroying everything in their path, preventing him from thinking properly and making him see red. He had already thrown tantrums like that in front of Pansy, and it often turned into a mindless argument because she hated being shouted at like that, so he preferred to leave when he felt them coming. He'd made a habit of running away and coming back a few hours later, once he'd calmed down. Then his friends would pretend that nothing had happened and change the subject.

In the stillness of the early autumn night, Draco inhaled several times and felt the rage wash over him like waves after a storm. He inhaled the cool air around him for a long time and sat on his bench.

The minutes passed. He watched the lights of the Castle go out one by one, and without knowing why, this vision relaxed him. It was well past curfew now, but Draco did not get up. He didn't want to go back into the confined atmosphere of the Common Room, he felt too comfortable outside. He could see the dark sky and the thousands of stars that reminded him of Pansy. He wished she was next to him to share the silence.

When his muscles had gone numb from the cold, he finally stood up. He entered again using a back door to avoid being spotted at such a late hour and found himself in a corridor he had never seen before. Somewhat lost, he wandered for a few minutes to find his way down to the dungeons.

Suddenly, as he was about to turn into a new dimly lit corridor, he heard footsteps. Draco stopped abruptly and pressed himself against the wall to avoid being seen. The footsteps were getting dangerously close, and he had nowhere to hide around him. He risked a glance to see if it was Filch or a prefect, but when he saw who it was, he sighed with relief: it was Granger. She was walking down the corridor reading a book.

Suddenly impelled, as he had been when he ran into Longbottom on the way out of the Library, Draco waited until Granger was as close as he could get to her before coming out of hiding and planting himself in front of her to scare her.

When she nearly turned into the corridor where Draco was holed up, he took a step forward and blocked her path roughly.

"So, Granger, wandering around the Castle alone this late?"