tw : panic attacks

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Draco

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Draco was sitting on one of the benches in the park at Hogwarts, where he had managed to find a spot that wasn't covered in snow. He was freezing, but he didn't get up. He needed some time alone and had decided not to go to dinner with his friends.

He stared blankly at the snow-covered landscape in front of him, deep in thought. He had shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, but he couldn't warm them, and was almost thinking of getting up to go to his dormitory when he saw light coming from Hagrid's hut. Smoke was billowing from the small chimney on the roof, and even though the curtains were drawn, Draco could clearly make out figures through them.

After about ten minutes, the door opened and someone came out of the small house, waved to the half-giant and headed back up towards the Castle. Draco could recognise Granger easily, especially by the way her hair was dishevelled around her. She was standing strangely, probably bothered by the weight of her bag, which she had slung over her shoulder and which was threatening to break because it looked so heavy.

She made her way slowly up the snowy path, and even though she had pulled a thick scarf around her, she was shivering with cold. She probably hadn't noticed him, but when she was close enough to his bench for her to see him, he called out to her in a loud voice:

"Well done Granger, you've managed to make friends with the most pathetic person in the whole of Hogwarts."

She gasped when she heard him and turned to face him sharply. She had a woollen cap on her head, but it was useless because all her hair was sticking out anyway. She looked exhausted, even more so than before: her eyes were glassy, and there were purple bags underneath that contrasted with her hideously pale skin. Draco had never seen her as tired as she looked at that moment; he felt as if he were seeing her petrified again.

"I don't consider you my friend, Malfoy."

He frowned. Even exhausted like that, she still had a way with words. Draco wondered why he'd spoken to her when he'd promised himself he'd never speak to her again for the hundredth time this year. It was as if he was being pushed by a force he didn't understand, as if he had to have her attention when she passed him by. Granger crossed her arms over her uniform and glowered at him:

"This is all your fault, Malfoy."

"That you have no friends?" he replied coldly.

He knew he had hit a nerve because for a second she winced slightly. Her mouth twisted, then she returned to her usual angry face. He knew she was suffering, because she no longer hung out with Potter and Weasley, and he didn't know why.

"No, that you condemn a poor hippogriff." she said.

It took Draco a while to work out what she was talking about, and for a moment he even thought she'd lost her mind completely because she'd gone back in time. Then he made the connection by looking at Hagrid's hut, and the blue notebook sticking out of her bag, and he burst out laughing:

"What? Don't tell me you're actually trying to defend Hagrid's bloody pigeon?"

From the look on his revolted face, he clearly had the answer to his question.

"Is that why you're going to his house? To help him create a defence?" he asked.

"Yes." she replied proudly, pushing a lock of hair in front of her eyes.

"But Granger... You don't really think that this drunk has a chance of winning against the Committee, do you? My father's on it!"

He wasn't even trying to be funny, he was genuinely shocked that she would think she could compete against that. Obviously, she took this remark as a provocation and her cheeks took on a dark red hue:

"Don't call Hagrid a drunk! You don't know anything about him, and you're venting your hatred just to feel like you exist!"

"No, and I'm sure you know as much as I do that I'm telling the truth."

"He's not a drunk!" retorted Granger in his most high-pitched voice. "It's your fault he's unhappy, and you're gloating over it, you really are obnoxious."

"He injured me, Granger. His fucking hippogriff is dangerous, and you know it as well as I do. Deep down, you know I'm right, but you're overworking yourself just to ignore that truth, that for once, you can agree with me."

He hadn't realised he'd stood up, and he didn't even know when he'd done it. They'd moved closer together, shouting, and from here Draco could see Hermione's eyes, which were very red. He wondered if she had been crying, or if it was the cold that had caused it. She raised an impertinent eyebrow:

"How can you think I could agree with you? Or worse, that I could be interested in your opinion? You're an arsehole, Malfoy. You blindly follow your father and hide behind his power without realising that you're hurting people in the process. Hagrid didn't do anything to you, and you provoked his hippogriff knowing he was going to hurt you. You just wanted to hurt him for no reason! You're pathetic!"

"If I'm pathetic, what does that make you? Spending your evenings in a hut with a gamekeeper? Just look at you! You can barely stand up, you look like Moaning Myrtle. The Time Turner isn't doing you any good, obviously."

He expected her face to break down when she heard this, but her features remained as hard as before:

"I couldn't care less about your threats, Malfoy. If you wanted to report me, you would have done so over a month ago. The fact that you haven't told anyone shows that you've faced the facts, and that you don't believe your own far-fetched theory."

He rolled his eyes. He had no doubt that she owned a Time Turner, he was even sure that she was wearing it under her Gryffindor scarf right now. But he wasn't sure why he hadn't told everyone yet. He liked watching her, and he didn't fancy having no more reason to, probably.

"I know I'm right. And I know Potter and Weasley don't know that." he said as he moved a little closer to her, smirking.

In reality, he didn't know, but he'd much rather play the knowing card to get her to confess. Besides, he was dying to know why the three of them weren't talking.

Granger sighed and buried her nose, red from the cold, in her scarf to try and keep warm:

"I don't want to get into your game. I'm not interested enough to talk to you, and I know you want my attention because you don't have anyone to talk to."

"I have plenty of people to talk to. Not you, apparently, since you spend your evenings with Hagrid."

Granger didn't reply, let out another sigh and turned to go back to the Castle. She was walking across the courtyard in her big snow boots, and Draco was thinking of something, anything, to get her to come back. He wanted to talk to her, he wanted her to get angry again and he wanted to revel in her high-pitched voice of frustration. So he said the first thing that came to mind:

"You finally got it, about Sirius Black?"

She turned around slowly. At first her eyebrows furrowed, and she just looked at him doubtfully, not understanding. Then her eyes widened as she realised what he was talking about. She crossed the courtyard in the opposite direction at full speed to plant herself back in his direction, shock imprinted on her face.

"You knew!" she exclaimed, dumbfounded.

"About what?" he asked in a falsely interested tone.

"About Sirius Black... You knew! You told me in Arithmancy class, the day after Halloween!"

"For a top of the class, I thought you'd be more perceptive, Granger. Unless you're tired? Because of a Time Turner, perhaps?"

She raised her eyebrows and suddenly her chocolate eyes came alive with a little mischievous sparkle:

"If you'll admit sincerely and honestly that you provoked Buckbeak, then I'll tell you if your theory is true."

He hesitated for a second, but changed his mind and shook his head. She shrugged:

"Too bad, I tried."

And she crossed the courtyard again, shivering from the cold.

Hermione

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Hermione was on her way back to the Common Room, but she wasn't even looking where she was going as her brain was turning over in every direction the sentence Malfoy had just uttered. He knew the connection between Sirius Black and Harry, and he'd known it for a lot longer than they had. How had he found out? His parents? She had a hunch that Theodore Nott was behind it. He'd never managed to beat her academically since first year, but he always seemed to be one step ahead of her.

Hermione gave the password to the portrait and entered the Common Room, which was almost empty. The students were slowly returning from dinner, so she took a seat at the table in front of the fire to try and warm up and took out her notebooks, which she spread out on the table. She preferred not to think about the amount of work she had to do this evening. She might even have to use her Time Turner, as she was drowning in homework.

As she opened her Arithmancy book, a letter from Danny fell onto the table. She sighed as she put it away in her bag. She hadn't replied to the last three, too overwhelmed with work to write a single line without feeling guilty for not studying. It was probably tiredness, but she was much more sensitive than usual, so she felt the usual tears welling up when she saw Danny's handwriting and concentrated on her textbook.

Her hand trembled as she wrote. She knew she looked awful, because she'd seen her reflection in the window of Hagrid's hut and had been almost frightened by her own face. She had dark circles under her eyes that were digging into her skin. What's more, as if the stress and fatigue weren't enough, since the beginning of February Hermione had been experiencing something she'd never felt before: anxiety attacks. Whenever she thought about her homework or lessons, she felt suffocating hot flushes which accelerated her heartbeat dangerously. She could no longer sleep properly, and ended up resting only three or four hours a night because of the anxiety.

She was in the middle of writing an important paragraph in the translation of Rune Studies when she heard voices. She looked up to see Harry proudly holding his Firebolt in his hands, showing it to a crowd of admirers who were staring at it as if it were a work of art in a museum. She felt her stomach contract painfully. McGonagall must have returned the broom after declaring that there was nothing there. Harry, Ron and Hermione had had a fight over nothing, and Ron was going to have fun repeating that she had been wrong.

She deliberately ignored them as she continued to write. After about ten minutes, Harry and Ron detached themselves from the crowd, and she was surprised to see that they approached her.

"I've got it back." Harry said, showing her the broom.

"See, Hermione? It's perfectly normal!" exclaimed Ron.

Hermione almost lost her temper at this remark. She was sure that Ron would rub her nose in it even more by pointing out that she was wrong.

" It might not have been." she retorted dryly. "At least now we know it's safe!"

"Yes, I suppose so." Harry conceded gently. "I'd better go and put it away."

"I'll do it!" shouted Ron, "I've got to give Scabbers his medicine."

Hermione quietly rolled her eyes at seeing so much euphoria over a wooden broom, which he held as if it were particularly fragile.

"Can I sit next to you?" asked Harry.

Hermione didn't want to show it, but she was so happy to hear his voice. She felt like they hadn't spoken in months, and if you added in all the hours she'd been back in the past, they probably hadn't. He sat down next to her, and looked at the books that were taking up all the space on the table.

"How do you get all this done?" he asked.

He was genuinely interested, not dismissive like Ron who would probably have laughed at her for working so hard.

"Oh, well, you know... Working hard." she replied.

"Why don't you drop a subject or two?" he offered.

"I could never do something like that!" she said indignantly.

In reality, she had already imagined dropping an option, but she couldn't bring herself to go to McGonagall and explain that she had failed. She could just imagine the look of disappointment on her face, and she'd rather work twice as hard than go through that.

"Arithmancy looks boring." Harry commented, wrinkling his nose at the textbook.

"Oh no, it's fascinating! It's my favourite subject! It's..."

Hermione wanted to explain the science of Arithmancy to him, and maybe even make a few calculations predicting the next day's weather, but she was interrupted by a strangled howl. She looked up to see Ron storming down the stairs of the boy's dormitory. For a moment she thought he'd hurt himself, but realised when he approached her table that he was actually in a state of fury she'd rarely seen on the redhead's face.

"LOOK! LOOK!" he shouted at her, handing her a sheet.

"Ron, what..." she began, embarrassed to be subjected to the stares of the other students in the Common Room.

"SCABBERS! LOOK!"

Hermione leaned back, afraid that Ron would throw the sheet in her face in anger. She looked down with raging eyes and came upon a huge bloodstain in the middle.

"BLOOD!" screamed Ron, "SCABBERS IS GONE! AND YOU KNOW WHAT WAS ON THE FLOOR?"

"N-no...?" stammered Hermione.

Ron then threw out what he had in his closed fist, and Hermione saw with horror orange hairs on her open textbook.

"Crookshanks?"

"NO, OF COURSE NOT! WHAT MAKES YOU SAY THAT?"

Ron propelled himself forward to throw the sheet onto the table, but Fred and George suddenly came up behind him and he was yanked roughly backwards by his two brothers.

"Whoa, Ron! Calm down!"

"Calm down? You want me to calm down?!" cried Ron in outrage. "Her cat killed my rat and I'm supposed to do nothing?"

He wasn't even looking at Hermione now, as if he was too disgusted to even look at her. As for her, she felt both anger and deep sadness at seeing her best friend get so upset.

"What makes you say it was Crookshanks in the first place? You have no proof that those hairs are from today, they could well have been there since Christmas!" she cried.

"I would have seen them a long time ago!" snarled Ron, who was still being held back by Fred and George. "You just don't want to assume that your horrible cat went after Scabbers!"

"You don't know that, Ron!" snapped Hermione, rising to her feet in turn. "You're just saying that to blame someone, you don't even know if he's dead! He's probably hiding under a bed, or..."

"Don't try to turn this around, Hermione!" cut in Ron, angrily. "It's your cat who's not well-behaved, he's been attacking Scabbers for no reason all year!"

George finally let go of Ron, but Fred left her hand firmly clinging to the sleeve of his jumper, lest he rush at her. Hermione knew full well he'd never do that, but he looked so furious that it was no bad thing if they had a good distance between them.

"Okay, okay, we'll go upstairs." Harry decided as he stood up to take Ron by the arm in turn. "Come on, Ron..."

The redhead gave her one last angry look before heading back up to the dormitory. The Common Room fell silent, and everyone looked at Hermione with round eyes. She felt panic rising in her chest. Fortunately, George called out to the assembly at that moment:

"Come on, everyone, back to business! The show's over, our brother's an idiot, we knew that a long time ago!"

"Don't listen to what he says." Fred advised him in a low voice. "He acts out of anger, he's impulsive, but he's never mean..."

"I don't have time to deal with this kind of drama!" cried Hermione, suddenly putting her things away. "I've got so much to do, I don't have time to be yelled at by Ron who has no idea what he's..."

She dropped one of her textbooks on the floor and it opened loudly as it fell, and without her knowing why, it made Hermione cry. The anger was subsiding and she couldn't control the tears of frustration that were pouring from her eyes without her wanting them to. She couldn't stop crying at the moment, it was so annoying! She bent over the book before Fred could reach it and stuffed it into her bag.

"Hermione, are you all right?" he asked, looking worried to see her crying. "You look really..."

"Tired? Horrible? Pathetic?" she said angrily. "Don't worry, I know all about it. I'm going to bed."

She rounded the table and climbed the steps to the girls' dormitory two at a time to avoid turning around. She wasn't even mad at Fred, but he was the first person who'd ever spoken to her and she'd lashed out at him for no reason. As soon as she was out of sight, she immediately felt horrible. He had tried to help her and she had responded like a madwoman.

Hermione put her bag at the end of her bed and didn't even take off her clothes before going to bed. She was so exhausted, she longed to fall asleep now and get rid of all the thoughts and feelings that were clutching at her throat. But as usual, she couldn't calm down.

Lavender and Parvati entered the dormitory an hour later, and even though the curtains on Hermione's bed were closed, she was sure they were talking about her in jerky whispers. Hermione pressed her pillow against her eyelids, swollen from crying so much.

Much later, when the lights were out and Hermione could hear the sleepy breathing of her housemates, Hermione gave up trying to sleep and reached for her bag to finish her Rune Studies essay by the light of her wand.

Hermione hadn't slept at all. She waited patiently for the sun's rays to pierce the fabric of her curtains before opening them and stepping out discreetly. It must have been six or seven in the morning. The Common Room was empty, but she didn't feel like reading any more, so she went out into the corridors, dimly lit by the morning light.

She decided to go to Hagrid's, where she spent most of her time. She went out into the freezing cold and hurried towards the hut to avoid catching cold. Hagrid was already working in his garden. When he saw her coming, his eyes widened:

"Hermione? What's wrong?"

"I just came to visit you. Nice carrots." she commented as she looked at Hagrid's garden.

"Hermione, you're wearing a cardigan in this weather! Come inside, you'll catch your death!"

He opened the door to his house for her and Hermione immediately took a deep breath from the smell of cinnamon that had filled the space.

"Why are you here so early? Is someone in trouble?" asked Hagrid, inviting her to sit at the table.

"No, not really..."

"Malfoy made a comment to you again? That boy is almost as despicable as his father, and that's saying something."

The gamekeeper sat across from her, his face twisted into a worried expression. Hermione wanted to answer "yes", but she had no desire to explain what Malfoy had said to her the night before, so she preferred to shake her head.

"Ron's mad at me..." she said in a small voice, her eyes fixed on the wooden table in front of her.

"Again?"

"Yes... He says Crookshanks killed Scabbers, so he yelled at me yesterday, in front of the whole Common Room. And... I'm so exhausted Hagrid, I don't know how much longer I can keep up this pace..."

For the hundredth time this week she burst into tears. She was ashamed to cry, but she felt much better doing it in Hagrid's company than in front of the whole Common Room. She tried to explain the situation between sobs, but her voice went off in high-pitched, strangled squeaks, so Hagrid must have caught only one or two words of her explanation. Still, he patted Hermione gently on the shoulder until she finished her incomprehensible tale.

"Don't worry, Hermione. No one will blame you for not being the best at something." he said reassuringly.

Hermione nodded, but she didn't mean a word of it. Even though she'd been there for three years, she still felt like she didn't deserve her place, and the fact that the Time Turner was taking so much of her energy was proof of that. She didn't measure up.

Hagrid, as kind as ever, offered to have breakfast with her rather than in the Great Hall, which she gladly accepted. She finally calmed her crying fit and drank her tea as slowly as possible so that she wouldn't have to face the lessons and Ron's glare all day. Hagrid told her about Buckbeak, about how he had played in the snow all afternoon the day before, and all too soon it was time to go. She put on her Gryffindor scarf again and thanked Hagrid for taking her in, but just before she stepped out into the cold, he said:

"You know, Hermione, sometimes being perfect isn't enough."

She thought about that sentence all the way to Charms class, and then all the rest of the day.

Draco

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"Oh. Fuck."

Draco looked up lazily at Theo, who had just spoken. They were eating breakfast at the Slytherin table, but neither Blaise, Pansy, Theo nor Draco had uttered a single word since they'd sat down. Draco was examining the sky, hoping it would be stormy for the Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw match, before he was interrupted by Theo's whispered exclamation.

"What?" he asked.

Theo said nothing, and merely pointed to the entrance of the Great Hall. Draco squinted: it was Potter, Weasley, Longbottom and two other Gryffindors walking proudly towards the table to eat.

"Well? What?" asked Draco again.

"Look what he's holding." said Theo before drinking his glass of milk.

Draco turned his head back to the Gryffindors' table and suddenly realised. Potter was putting a broom next to him, exposing it to everyone.

"It's a Firebolt!" said Blaise as he saw the broom in turn.

"No, it can't be." Draco said immediately.

Yet, looking at what little of the handle he could see from where he was, he recognised the familiar wood of the Firebolt, which he had admired for months in the Seeker Weekly magazine.

"Impossible." repeated Draco as he stood up, driven by curiosity.

Crabbe and Goyle also stood up, but no one else was interested in looking at Firebolt. Draco didn't even know why Crabbe and Goyle came, they weren't even interested in Quidditch, unlike Blaise who was reading his weekly magazine with the same fervour. Blaise simply continued to eat, watching the broom from afar.

When he approached the Gryffindors' table, other Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students were already admiring the broom. Draco felt a burning jealousy when he saw the perfectly polished handle of the broom of his dreams. It was a real Firebolt, in the flesh.

"Are you sure you can fly this broom, Potter?" he asked the boy.

He was aware that his voice was bitter, but he did not correct his tone. Potter tried as hard as he could to hide his arrogant smile:

"I think so."

Draco was sure he didn't know even half of the features of this broom. He hadn't even heard of Quidditch before his first year at Hogwarts! Draco knew it by heart, he had begged his parents to give it to him for Christmas. He knew how to guide Firebolt perfectly, unlike Potter.

"Got a plenty of special features, hasn't it?" continued Draco. "Too bad it doesn't come with a parachute... In case a Dementor comes along..."

"Too bad you can't attach a third arm to yours." Potter retorted. "Maybe it could catch the Golden Snitch for you."

Draco gave him an evil smile and watched Granger, who was sitting a little further away, for a few seconds. She was pretending to read, but Draco was sure she was eavesdropping on their conversation. They didn't seem to be talking again, and even worse: she was glowering at Weasley, who was responding in kind. So it was the two of them who had had the argument?

Draco turned on his heel and went back to sit at the Slytherin table, and as soon as he was seated, Theo and Blaise pounced on him:

"So? Is it real?"

"Yes."

"That doesn't make sense!" cried Blaise. "Who could have given Potter a broom like that? It costs a fortune."

"Even my parents refused to buy me one." Draco whispered without hiding his contempt. "In any case, one thing's for sure, it wasn't Lupin. He's probably poorer than all the Weasleys put together."

He jerked his chin at the professor, whose clothes hung miserably. His shabby wizard's cloak dragged on the floor. Blaise and Theo glanced towards Lupin, shrugged, and continued eating as they watched Firebolt:

"I mean, even I who don't give a toss about Quidditch know how rare and super expensive Firebolts are." Theo commented. "Shouldn't it be forbidden by the school to own such a powerful broom? It's completely unfair."

"Potter always gets what he wants." Draco grumbled.

"Did you tell him?"

"I told him he was going to have to use the broom to protect himself from the Dementors. I hope they come back on the field, and really take him down this time."

Theo shuddered, but Draco ignored him. Suddenly Marcus Flint, who seemed to have been listening to their entire discussion, turned to them:

"I've got an idea!" he whispered.

"Hm?"

"Why don't we disguise ourselves as Dementors and scare Potter? That would throw him off, and that way Ravenclaw would win. If Ravenclaw wins, the Gryffindors will be third in the rankings, so we can move up!"

Draco thought about this ploy for a few seconds while Blaise and Theo held back their laughter.

"That's not a bad idea..." said Draco after a few seconds.

Theo turned sharply to him, looking haggard:

"Huh? Don't tell me you're actually considering doing this?"

"Why not? No one would know it was us, we could just disguise ourselves as Dementors and escape before anyone saw us!"

Pansy let out a mocking laugh between her teeth. It was the first sound she'd made since she'd sat down, but as soon as she did, she looked across the table with a disinterested look on her face.

Theo pinched the bridge of his nose and dropped his spoon into his bowl:

"Draco... How can someone as intelligent and rational as you can possibly accept such a stupid dare?"

"It's not stupid!" he defended himself.

"Dementors fly." Theo explained patiently. "They have an aura around them that prevents their victims from defending themselves, they're scary, and they're over eighty inches tall. How could you possibly think you could look like them?"

"You can stand on my shoulders." said Goyle, who had his eyebrows so furrowed it was making wrinkles on his forehead. "That way we'd be the right size."

Marcus Flint nodded in agreement, then offered:

"Zabini, you're almost eighty inches, why don't you come along too!"

Blaise turned to the team captain with as closed a face as possible, which immediately silenced Flint. Even though he was only a third year, Blaise had the ability to intimidate people much older than him with a simple look, and it was clear that he didn't want to be involved in this plan.

"Draco." said Theo one last time in a tone of reproach mixed with impatience. "Draco, look at me. This is one of the stupidest ideas I've ever heard, you're going to get caught, and you're going to regret it. Don't let your anger and overinflated ego take control of your reason, please."

Draco waltzed his gaze between Theo's pleading eyes, Potter's Firebolt, and the two playful faces of Marcus Flint and Goyle. He addressed them, suddenly decided:

"Okay, I'm in."

They celebrated their victories with laughter as Theo rested his forehead on the Slytherin table, muttering:

"You idiots."

Marcus Flint began to work out his plan in the middle of the Slytherin table, but Theo and Blaise were no longer taking part in the conversation. Draco, on the other hand, thought that the idea was admittedly a little shaky, but could be extremely effective. Potter would immediately lose his nerve and would probably pretend to fall to get all the attention on him.

"Okay, I'll go and get some long black robes from the changing rooms so we can cover up." Flint said as he got up from the table.

Draco turned to Potter. He was still eating, and had left his Firebolt in the middle of the table to draw all eyes to it. Perfect Potter with his superior air.

Beside him, Weasley looked at the broom with admiration. He'd probably never seen such a precious object in his life, even his house must have been cheaper than this. Draco also noticed Granger watching him at an angle, not the broom, but the redhead. She looked furious, almost as much as when she was talking to Draco. The latter then turned to Pansy:

"Pans'?"

"Yeah?" she asked without looking up.

"Do you know why Granger and Weasley aren't talking to each other?"

Pansy brushed away one of her dark locks of hair to take a spoonful of porridge before answering:

"Nah."

It wasn't true, obviously, Pansy knew all the school gossip. Draco arched an eyebrow and waited for her to spill what she knew, which she did a few seconds later, as if she couldn't contain herself:

"Shitty story. Granger's cat ate his rat. Apparently, they got into an argument in front of the entire Gryffindors Common Room."

Draco chuckled. That really was a stupid reason. Pansy ate some more porridge before continuing in a weary tone:

"I don't think it's just that, it's impossible to have a row over such a shitty reason. Maybe Granger realised she was in love with the stupidest boy at Hogwarts after all. Or, he realised she was a Mudblood and he'd better not get involved with her if he wanted to continue his line of gingers."

Draco frowned:

"In love? They're dating?"

Pansy made a sound close to a sigh:

"I don't know, yeah, I think so."

And she turned to Daphne to talk about something else. Draco had never realised that Granger and Weasley could be together. They'd never shown the slightest sign of affection in public, but at the same time, he wasn't doing it with Pansy either, and no one could tell how close they were from an outsider's perspective.

He continued to watch Granger carefully. No, it couldn't be. She was far too intelligent to have feelings for such a lousy guy, even if she didn't deserve any better.

He decided to push the thought from his mind: without knowing why, the information bothered him.

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The moment he saw a bolt of silver lightning heading straight for him, Draco realised that Theo was right. This idea was completely stupid. He was thrown backwards by Potter's spell, fell from Goyle's shoulders and smashed violently against the ground. The cloak they had pulled over their heads had done little to soften his fall.

He saw Potter land on the ground, holding the Golden Snitch in his hand. They had already made fools of themselves, and on top of that, they had not succeeded in their plan at all. Professor McGonagall approached them, her face contorted with anger:

"A lamentable ploy!" she shouted at the top of her lungs, in front of everyone. "A cowardly and despicable attempt to destabilise the Gryffindor Seeker! You'll all get detention! And I'm taking fifty points off Slytherin! I'll be sure to tell Professor Dumbledore about this! Ah, there he is now!"

Dumbledore arrived in front of them too, but it wasn't him who frightened Draco the most, it was Professor Snape, right behind him. He didn't have the same expression of fury on his face as McGonagall, but yet his face was even more menacing.

"Stand up." Dumbledore ordered. "And follow us, please."

Draco finally managed to shake off the black cloak that had become entangled in his legs and stood up, all muddy. He followed the three professors, head bowed, to Snape's office in the dungeons. Marcus Flint, Crabbe and Goyle were behind him, and Crabbe had mud all over his face, while Marcus Flint still held the cloak against him.

"Whose idea was this?" asked Dumbledore calmly.

Crabbe and Goyle immediately pointed at the Captain, but Draco remained motionless. He didn't dare look at Professor Snape beside the fireplace, and his heart was beating wildly. As if to drive him deeper, he kept repeating Theo's line in his head, "Don't let your anger and your overinflated ego take control of your reason, please." He was right, he had let his anger get the better of him, again.

Now that he was here, he had no idea how he'd agreed to such a shitty plan. Dressing up as Dementors?

"It's a disgrace!" snapped McGonagall in her most piercing voice. "Shameful! Explain yourself, right now."

Draco didn't even open his mouth to speak, he was far too ashamed for that. Crabbe and Goyle looked around stupidly, and finally it was Flint who dared to speak:

"We wanted to scare Potter... He's not allowed to have Firebolt, it's not fair!"

Snape cut him off in a deep voice:

"Mr. Flint, need I remind you that you're bottom of your class, despite having already repeated your seventh year? Don't you have better things to do than try to frighten Mr. Potter, like studying your NEWTs?"

Flint answered nothing and simply lowered his head. Snape's intervention sent a chill through the already icy room, and Dumbledore must have thought the reprimands were enough as he invited everyone to leave. Just as Draco was about to walk through the door, however, Snape's voice rose a second time:

"I'd like to keep Mr. Malfoy for a moment, please."

Dumbledore and McGonagall nodded and Draco felt his heart rate quicken further. Snape gestured for him to take a seat in the armchair opposite the desk and he did the same, opposite him. Crabbe, Goyle, Flint, Dumbledore and McGonagall left through the office door. When it closed, a chilling silence filled the room.

Draco, who didn't dare look at his teacher's face, rested his eyes on the fire in the fireplace.

"Malfoy." Snape began, anger piercing through his more meek tone. "Do I have to remind you of what we talked about in your first year? About Potter, and the need for you to stay away?"

Draco kept his eyes resolutely fixed on the almost black fire without answering. He knew what Professor Snape was going to say, and he preferred not to react so as not to inflame his anger any further. He continued:

"I'm obliged to tell your parents about what you've done, Malfoy. I've tried to cover for you once already, and you obviously still don't get it. Information regarding your detention will be forthcoming tomorrow."

Draco's throat tightened but he refused to cough, or even to signal by any means how afraid he was of his father. Snape picked up a quill and began to write, then waved vaguely for Draco to get out of his office. He left quickly and found himself in the dungeons, where the cold wind made him shiver.

In front of the office was Theo, slumped against the stone, reading. When he saw Draco coming out of the office, he closed his book, put it in his pocket and approached him:

"What did Snape want with you? Why did Crabbe and Goyle come out before you?"

"He wanted to tell me he was going to warn my parents." Draco said in a slightly strangled voice.

Theo looked at him expressionlessly, and said nothing. For several long seconds, they simply stared at each other, and suddenly Draco unintentionally blurted out:

"You were right. It was stupid."

"Thank you." Theo replied without cracking a smile. "I'm sorry about your parents."

Draco just nodded, and they returned to the Common Room without another word.

Hermione

.
.

Hermione was reading a chapter of Potions by the dim light of her wand in bed. She was trying hard to understand what she was studying, but her eyelids were very heavy and she blinked so many times that it was impossible for her to read more than three words in a row. Her head rested on her pillow and she drifted off to sleep... When suddenly...

"AAAAAHHHH! NOOOO!"

The piercing howl she had just heard through the wall startled her so much that she threw her book, which fell to the floor with a loud crash. One of the dormitory lights flickered on and Hermione heard Parvati's sleepy voice ask:

"What was that?"

"I don't know..." replied Lavender with a yawn. "Wasn't that Ron's voice?"

Hermione felt the panic attack surge through her like a hurricane, and without expecting it, she couldn't breathe. Lavender and Parvati got up and stormed out of the dormitory to see what was going on, but Hermione couldn't move. She felt like she was in a nightmare, because Ron's scream kept pounding into her head over and over again.

She put her hand under the sleeve of her pyjamas and pinched herself several times. It wasn't a nightmare, it was Ron who had just screamed at the top of his lungs. Realising this, she quickly got out of her duvet and went out down the dormitory stairs. The Common Room was full of people shouting from all sides:

"Great! Shall we get on with the party?" one of the Weasley twins asked, his back to her.

Ron was in the middle of the room with Harry. He was livid and his hands were shaking. Hermione wanted to go over to them, but she just stood there on the stairs.

"Everyone into the dormitories!" shouted Percy as he took his place in the centre of the room.

"Percy!" cried Ron in terror. "Sirius Black! In the dormitory! With a knife! He woke me up!"

Hermione's heart seemed to explode in her chest. In fact, she couldn't feel anything, as if all the blood in her body had gone down her legs. She couldn't move, couldn't breathe, just stared at Ron's face, twisted with fear, without understanding.

"Nonsense!" snapped Percy after several seconds of heavy silence. "You've eaten too much, Ron... It was a nightmare, plain and simple..."

Hermione knew Ron well enough to say that it wasn't a nightmare. She had never seen him so frightened in her life. Sirius Black really had come into the dormitory, probably looking for Harry.

"I'm telling you the truth!" shouted Ron in desperation.

Suddenly, Professor McGonagall entered the Common Room, dressed entirely in her tartan dressing gown, clearly annoyed at having been woken by the shouts of the students. When Hermione saw her, she sighed with relief without realising it: if McGonagall were here, everything would be better. Everything would be more logical, more reasoned, as her parents tended to think.

"That's enough!" the teacher snapped, looking sternly at the assembled students. "I'm delighted that Gryffindor won the match, but this is getting ridiculous! Percy, I expected much better of you!"

"I absolutely did not authorise what just happened, Professor!" retorted Percy, stung by being targeted by his teacher. "I was telling them to go back upstairs and go to bed! My brother Ron had a nightmare..."

"IT WASN'T A NIGHTMARE!" cried Ron, "PROFESSOR, I WOKE UP, AND SIRIUS BLACK WAS STANDING IN FRONT OF ME, WITH A KNIFE IN HIS HAND!"

Professor McGonagall looked at him, and Hermione could see that she believed him more than Percy did.

"Don't be ridiculous, Weasley, how could he have got past the portrait?"

"He's the one to ask!" retorted Ron, pointing at the Cadogan Knight. "Ask him if he saw..."

McGonagall gave Ron one last wary look and opened the portrait to face him. The whole Room held its breath, including Hermione who had lost hers since Ron had shouted.

"Knight of the Cadogan." she enunciated clearly. "Did you let a man into Gryffindor Tower a few moments ago?"

"Certainly, good lady!" cried the knight immediately, puffing out his chest.

"You...? You did this?" snapped Professor McGonagall indignantly. "But... the password!"

"He had them all!" the knight assured proudly. "All the ones for the week! Written on a piece of paper. He read them to me one after the other!"

Professor McGonagall turned to the students gathered in the small circular room. She had gone much paler, and was now looking at face after face, one hand over her heart:

"Who..." she began in a dead voice. "Who was stupid enough to write down all the week's passwords and leave them lying around anywhere?"

Hermione didn't even have to turn to see the guilty look on Neville's face, who was standing right next to her. He let out a small shriek through his teeth, proof of his guilt, and Professor McGonagall changed her fear to black anger.

While she was getting angry at Neville, Hermione turned to Harry. He too was paler than usual, but he looked more worried for Ron than for himself. Still, it was obvious that Sirius Black had come looking for him, and that he'd got into the wrong bed.

He had a knife... What would have happened if he'd opened the right bed? If she'd lost her best friend, without even being able to say goodbye?