note: minor deviation from the canon in the novel's chronology
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Hermione
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Hermione watched in amazement as Malfoy sat down at the round table. He put down a small stack of parchments, a quill, an inkwell, a textbook, all the while studiously ignoring Hermione's outraged gaze as she failed to utter a word. She wondered if he'd even seen her, and that he wasn't going to jump when he realised the table was occupied.
"This table is taken, Malfoy." she said in a strangled voice.
Malfoy didn't even look up and replied in a quiet tone:
"I saw that."
"Then why are you sitting there?" she asked, dumbfounded.
He finally raised his grey eyes, which he plunged unscrupulously into Hermione's, arching an eyebrow:
"Excuse me, does this Library belong to you, Granger?"
"No, but..."
"Krum fans have taken over everything." he said dryly. "This is the only table available, so I'll sit here."
"You don't mind that I'm already here?"
She had never heard Malfoy say so many sentences in a row without saying something mean to her, it was so surprising that she felt no remorse at telling him so bluntly. He simply shrugged:
"That depends, are you going to ask me a lot more questions like that, or am I going to be able to start working?"
"Er, no. Sorry."
He said nothing more, opened his Charms textbook and began copying down the various incantations from the year's syllabus. Hermione was so bewildered to be sharing a table with Draco Malfoy that she stared at the parchment he was writing on in disbelief for a good minute. Then she remembered her own novel and started reading again. The story was suddenly much less interesting than before, probably because what had just happened was so shocking that she couldn't get back into it.
Malfoy stood there for a long time. No one in the library could see them from here, they were well hidden by the shelves of books all around them. After half an hour, she finally managed to relax fully. She had been afraid that Malfoy would suddenly change his ways and start insulting her. But he didn't. He studied silently, mechanically writing down one magic formula after another. Sometimes he would glance down at his manual, or turn the pages to read a definition of a particular spell, which he would then write down. It was a revision sheet, Hermione realised.
She was in the middle of a sentence describing Edinburgh Castle when Malfoy suddenly stood up and put his things away. Then he turned and walked away without saying a word.
Hermione felt as if she had been dreaming this moment. She even pinched herself under the stitches of her woollen jumper to make sure she wasn't asleep. Maybe Harry hadn't even been selected and she'd be telling her dream to a hilarious Ron and Harry at breakfast. But no matter how much she pinched herself until her skin turned red, Hermione remained firmly seated at the remote Library table.
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Krum went to the Library every night of the week, bringing with him his whole fan club of giggling girls who took every available table. Every time Hermione left the Great Hall and went to study, they were already there, as if they were skipping dinner to be there before Krum arrived.
Malfoy came every night, too. Like last Monday, he sat opposite her soon after she arrived and didn't say a word to her, not even a 'hello' or a 'goodbye' when he suddenly left without warning. After a week, Hermione was almost a little used to his presence, although it was still strange.
He never studied the same thing, he changed subjects every night. Sometimes, she could see that he was stuck on an exercise that he stayed on for a long time and that caused numerous scratches on his parchment. But Hermione wouldn't help him, even though she was dying to give him the answer every time.
On Friday evening, Harry went with her to the Library. Miraculously, they found a table free, the only one not already occupied by Krum fans sitting a little way off. They were disturbed by their incessant sniggering all evening, but Harry managed to ignore it.
Malfoy didn't come that night, as if he already knew she wouldn't be alone.
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Draco
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"The Library? Again?" asked Pansy. "But I haven't seen you all week!"
"That's not true, I spent the evening with you yesterday." replied Draco.
"What are you doing there?" she asked suspiciously.
"Studying. My dad's put me under a lot of pressure to do well this year and I'm not going to come back and be shouted at again. Well, that's the end of the questioning? Can I go?"
Draco had just brazenly lied, because his father hadn't made the slightest remark about his place in the previous year's rankings, but Pansy believed him and nodded before returning to her conversation with Blaise and Daphne.
Draco turned on his heel and made his way to the Library.
The fact that he was sitting opposite Granger was new, yet he still hadn't realised he'd dared to do it. The first time he'd done it, he'd said to himself, "And after all, I've got the right to sit wherever I want, haven't I? If I want to sit with Granger, I'll do it, it doesn't mean anything." Still, Draco couldn't find it normal to study inches away from her. They'd never been this close physically without arguing.
At first he told himself that it didn't mean anything, that he was only sitting there because he had no other place. However, the fact that he hadn't gone after seeing Potter enter with her belied his own thoughts. If he was completely honest with himself, he liked these moments. He even looked forward to being in the Library with her during the day, even though they never spoke. What prevented him from enjoying it fully was the fear that his parents would find out.
He had drawn up a whole list of plausible excuses in case his father or mother found out. Yet a week passed and he received no Howler from the Malfoys. In any case, he couldn't see how they could have known, given that no one could see them at the table at the back of the Library, and that if they were noticed, there was little chance that the pupil in question would tell his parents. That didn't stop him from anxiously watching the owls flying around the Great Hall every morning.
Granger was already settled when he entered the Library. She had a steaming cup of tea beside her and was deep in a textbook, frowning. When he pulled out the chair, she looked up at him but said nothing, and plunged back into her textbook. Draco couldn't see the title of the book, but he realised that it must be her option on runes, because the text in front of her didn't contain any letters of the alphabet.
He began to work silently on Potions. It was his favourite subject, so he didn't really see it as work but rather as optional learning. He liked reading it, it relaxed him.
The hour passed. Outside, it was raining, and the raindrops falling on the roof and windows made a very satisfying sound. From time to time, Granger took sips of tea, without taking her eyes off her text. Then she closed her textbook and changed subjects. She now had a large map of the sky and stars, probably an Astronomy course.
Draco was reading a paragraph about the benefits of the lovage plant when Granger broke the silence they had enjoyed for days:
"Your name comes from a constellation."
It wasn't a question, more a statement of fact. Draco looked up, taken aback. Granger wasn't looking at him, she was still studying the large Astronomy map.
"Er... What?" asked Draco.
"Your first name. It comes from a constellation, doesn't it?"
Before Draco could answer, she pulled a stack of books out of her bag and placed them on the table:
"I've been doing some research." she said, as seriously as she could. "And I realised that the Black family always used constellation or star names to name their descendants. Andromeda, Orion, Cassiopeia, Cygnus and Draco are all constellations."
"You researched my first name?" asked Draco, puzzled.
"Yes." she said, as if it were an obvious thing to do on a Saturday night. "I learned that your constellation is the Draco, and that the four stars in the head are located just above Hercules', and that in September a meteor shower, the Draconids, lights up Draco's head."
"I..."
"But your mum, Narcissa, right? She's the only one in your family who wasn't born after a constellation, or a star, or a comet. She's the only one in the Black family named after a flower, the Narcissus. And yet she continued the tradition by naming her only son after a constellation. Why?"
"You're far too curious, Granger." he said, hiding his astonishment.
She frowned, as if that answer wasn't satisfying enough.
"I simply asked about it, that's all. I never realised your first name came from a constellation, we haven't studied it in Astronomy class yet." she grumbled as she put her books away.
"If we haven't seen it yet, why are you so interested in it?"
She replied without looking at him:
"I'm just getting ahead of myself."
"Don't you have something else to do?" he asked, suddenly mocking. "Like helping Potter not get killed in a Tournament, for example?"
She shuddered slightly at this, but pretended not to care:
"I do too. I'm capable of multitasking, Malfoy."
"Good for you. It must be exhausting constantly having to help your famous friend who's getting himself into a mess."
"He didn't get himself into trouble." she corrected meticulously. "Someone put his name in the Goblet of Fire."
"Oh of course!" laughed Draco. "Is that what he told you?"
"Yes."
"And you believe him?"
She finally looked up, her eyes flashing:
"Of course I believe it. He's my best friend, when he tells me something, I believe it."
"Then you're naive." he said.
"If Pansy Parkinson's name came up from the Goblet of Fire, and she assured you she'd never signed up, would you believe her?" she asked.
Draco didn't even think:
"No."
"Then you must not trust your friends very much." Granger said.
"I do. I'm just not friends with Potter, to whom all sorts of extraordinary things seem to happen without his wanting them to."
"Because you really think it's an extraordinary thing? It's a very dangerous Tournament!" protested Granger.
Despite their heated debate, they didn't raise their voices, which was rather strange. Usually, they always ended up arguing and Draco would suffer another outburst. Here, he was perfectly relaxed. Perhaps thanks to the rain still pounding on the windows.
"I just think it's weird that of all the students at this school, Potter was the one selected, that's all." he stated.
"If you'd put your sick jealousy aside, you'd see that it's not that surprising."
"My sick jealousy?!" repeated Draco, laughing. "Me, I'm sickly jealous of Potter? You're talking nonsense, Granger. You don't know what to make up for your mate, whom you blindly believe. Wake up Granger, no one put his name in the Goblet of Fire, he did it all by himself, to get attention for himself, as usual."
"Harry would never do that." she retorted, sure of herself.
"Why would anyone go and put his name, then?"
"Because He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named wants revenge, maybe?" she blurted out.
Draco immediately lost his smile. Suddenly, there was an awkward silence. He'd never imagined the conversation could take such a dark turn. Granger blew out her nose and bent over her map again, visibly disturbed.
After a long moment of silence, Draco said:
"In any case, I'm for Diggory. I made a bet with Blaise and Pansy that he was going to be chosen yesterday."
He had no idea why he was sharing this information with Granger. Perhaps to diffuse this tense moment, or simply to interest her enough for her dark gaze to turn into an interested gleam.
"And you have a bet that he'll win?" she asked.
"No. I don't know if I'd bet on him... Krum is redoubtable too."
He turned mechanically to Krum. He couldn't really see him because of the library shelves, but he knew he was there, because he always sat at the same table these days.
When he turned back to Granger, her eyes sparkled with mischief. Draco knew her well enough to know she was up to something.
"So, I'll bet you Harry wins. I bet... How much did you bet, with Parkinson and Zabini?"
"10 Galleons."
She widened her eyes a little, surprised by the large amount they had staked. She reflected and announced:
"I'll bet you five Galleons."
"You don't have enough." Draco retorted with a wicked grin. "Your parents are Muggles, you'll pay me in pouns or whatever."
Contrary to what he would have thought, she was not hurt by this reflection, she simply shrugged her shoulders with her mischievous air. The corners of her mouth were stretched.
"I've got a lot more than that." she said calmly. "But if you're afraid of losing, you can always refuse."
He immediately held out his hand:
"No no. My money's on Diggory."
"No Krum?"
"Let's just say if it's Krum or Delacour, it'll be a tie, and we don't owe the other anything. Deal?"
She agreed and shook his hand in hers. It was the second time they'd bet something, and it was the second time he'd taken her hand. It was surprisingly warm and much smaller than Draco's hand, yet it embraced his perfectly. He tried to pretend that the touch did nothing for him, but the truth was that he shivered and clenched his fist under the table.
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Hermione
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Hermione could see that Harry was unhappy, but she had no idea how to help him feel better. He and Ron were still firmly resolved not to speak to each other, so she spent all her time juggling the two.
"I don't care if he put his name in the Cup or not, Hermione." Ron would tell her dryly over breakfast, "I'm just sick of being seen as the best friend who lags behind like a little dog. If you want to call it jealousy, go ahead, but I'm sure you'd react the same way if you were in my shoes."
"I don't really care if he won't talk to me." Harry assured her in a low voice during lessons. "If he thinks it's a pleasure to have his finger pointed at me every time I meet someone, if he's going to swap with me, nothing would please me more."
Hermione had decided to just listen without flinching, because no matter how hard she tried to reconcile the two, it was no use. The only people not taking part in the argument were Neville, Ginny, and Malfoy. And surprisingly, the last one was the one she spent the most time with.
Ron hung out with Fred and George, and Harry stayed with Seamus and Dean. So when Hermione was in the Library, it was often by herself. And Malfoy always joined her. Krum's fan club was always on the lookout and watching him study, even though it seemed to upset him a lot, and Malfoy would take advantage of it to take the free seat at her table.
On Sunday evening, after dinner in the Great Hall, Harry got up and Hermione proposed:
"Do you want to come with me to the Library? I have to write up some messages to encourage people to join the S.P.E.W..."
"No thanks." Harry replied at once. "I'm going to bed early."
Hermione had to admit that she wasn't particularly disappointed that he wasn't coming, because she knew that Malfoy was going to settle down at the remote table in the Library if Harry didn't accompany her.
She felt the Slytherin's gaze on her, but when she turned her head towards him, Malfoy was deep in conversation with Pansy Parkinson. She left the Great Hall with Harry, who said goodbye to her at the foot of the stairs, and Hermione headed for the Library. When she arrived, she gave a quick nod to Mrs. Pince, then walked through the main room full of busy tables. As she passed him, Krum looked up and waved to her.
Hermione was so surprised that she checked behind her to see if it was addressed to her. Then, seeing that he had really greeted her, she waved back. As she continued walking, she received several angry glances from the girls who were watching her from afar. She paid them no mind and continued zigzagging through the aisles to find her favourite table of the moment.
She sat down and placed her S.P.E.W lists on the table, along with her notebook and her box of badges. Hermione deliberately put everything on her side of the table so as not to intrude on Malfoy's space. Then she fetched a copy of Rights of Inferior Magical Creatures. When she returned to the table, Malfoy was already seated there.
"Good evening Malfoy."
It was the first time she had greeted him. They didn't usually talk, except the night before. He arched an eyebrow and said in his drawl:
"Good evening."
He wasn't wearing his uniform, and was dressed exclusively in black, with a turtleneck. His pale skin contrasted with the colour of his outfit and made his grey eyes stand out even more, as they detailed his Arithmancy homework in a concentrated sweep.
Hermione sat down in front of him again and began her work. She drew up a list of the S.P.E.W's members so far, then set about writing some sort of parchment leaflet to encourage people to join, writing down the headline measures she wanted to put in place.
"Paid work", "Right to days off and days of rest in the week", "Number of working hours imposed by contract" and "No use of violence under any circumstances" were the first. She wrote them down carefully on paper, then looked for inspiration in the "house elves" section of the book she had borrowed while drinking her mint tea, because she had run out of cinnamon bags.
It was probably the persistent sound of metal badges clattering in the box that made Malfoy look at what she was doing. He didn't hesitate to ask her in astonishment:
"What the hell are you doing, Granger?"
"I'm working on my association."
"The spew? What is it, a defence association against your..."
"Shhh! Don't comment on the name 'spew', Ron's already exhausted it. Sorry."
Malfoy was silent. In reality, she had the impression that he wanted to make a reference to her blood, and she didn't want to hear about that. She continued to write her prospectus, and Malfoy spoke again:
""Paid work?"" he read aloud. ""Number of hours imposed by a contract?" What the hell is this?"
"This is the S.P.E.W. An association I set up to defend the rights of house elves."
She knew that her cheeks had turned pink when she said that, but she kept her head up proudly to show that she was not ashamed of her project. Malfoy laughed all the same:
"What?! No, you're kidding me?"
"Not at all. I'm defending poor magical creatures who have no rights, and who are being mistreated!"
"But... It's in their nature!" he contradicted.
"To be abused every day? To work like hell, day and night, without being rewarded in any way?" she retorted.
"Yes!"
Hermione gave Malfoy the same look she had given Ron.
"How would you react if you were asked to do all this?" she asked in an increasingly impatient tone.
"I wouldn't be asked, because I was lucky enough not to have been born in a house elf's body."
Hermione sighed, tired in advance of this endless debate.
"Anyway, I don't even know why I'm telling you about it. You're one of those people who has one, and you've treated Dobby badly all your life. You have no pity for them."
He frowned:
"My parents mistreated Dobby, that's true. But what makes you think I have?"
"Because you're just like them."
He seemed genuinely hurt by this sentence:
"Am I? Do you really think so?"
"You believe in the purity of blood or whatever, and you participate in the enslavement of house elves. If you were against it, you would have rebelled against it long ago, and you wouldn't have taken advantage of the poor conditions of the elves for your own gain."
"If I really believed in the purity of blood, do you really think I'd be sitting here tonight? Do you think my father would have?"
Hermione suddenly stopped talking when she heard this and looked curiously at Malfoy. He didn't seem to have anticipated saying that and quickly returned to his Arithmancy textbook. But Hermione wouldn't let an opportunity like this pass to ask him questions:
"If you don't believe it, why do you keep repeating it to me every week for over three years, then?"
Malfoy sighed and continued speaking, still hunched over his formulas:
"Because, as for house elves, I was raised with it. So was Pansy, and so was Blaise, and Crabbe, and Goyle. If you'd lived under the same conditions I did, I don't think you'd have been surprised at the elf life."
"And that doesn't bother you? Knowing you're doing this to them?"
Malfoy sighed a second time:
"You're far too curious, Granger."
"Yes, I get that a lot. That doesn't answer the question."
"No. Because to me, it's normal."
"But look!" pressed Hermione, shoving the book under his nose. "Look at what they're going through! How can you not feel an ounce of empathy for them? Look how they're treated! You must see it every day at home! How would you like to be insulted like that, forced to work?"
"Forget it, Granger." he said coldly, pushing the book away. "I'm not interested."
Hermione grumbled and returned to her book, irritated. She'd never spoken to anyone who used an elf, and hearing him animated her with even more rage.
Malfoy was silent for a long time, so Hermione did the same and read the few articles she could find on house elves. She wrote down some ideas on a scrap of parchment, to complete her prospectus. Suddenly, as their part of the Library was plunged into silence, Malfoy huffed loudly and put down his quill.
"Did you understand last Monday's class in Arithmancy?" he asked in a small, feverish voice.
Hermione had noticed that he was struggling with that class. She'd even noticed it the previous Monday, because he kept crossing out everything he wrote and mumbling intelligible words because he didn't understand. She continued to write "Possibility of refusing a request from your employer", replying:
"Of course I did."
"Can you... I don't know, help me?"
Hermione could see it was costing him a lot to make such a request. Draco Malfoy must really have been on the verge of a nervous breakdown to stoop so low as to ask Hermione Granger, the girl he despised, for help. But she didn't flinch:
"Okay."
"Really?"
"Yes, if you join the S.P.E.W. It's two Sickles per member, that gives you the right to a badge. And you can invite other people to join us like that..."
But she was interrupted by Malfoy's laughter.
"I said no, Granger."
Despite his refusal, Hermione couldn't help but smile. His laugh was infectious, it wasn't the evil laugh he always had, this one was genuine and Hermione couldn't help but imitate it.
He continued to write, or rather to crudely cross out the formulas he was writing, until he had holes in his parchment with the tip of his quill. Hermione couldn't concentrate any more, she was too busy ogling Malfoy's work. After a while, she couldn't stand it any longer:
"That's not it at all, you've got the wrong method."
"I did notice that!" snapped Malfoy, throwing his quill on the desk. "But I don't understand anything, it doesn't make any sense! This fucking book is..."
"Hey, hey! Calm down, that's not the way to do it!" cut in Hermione.
Malfoy put the book down, taken aback. Hermione took a deep breath and asked:
"Do you know what Arithmancy is?"
Malfoy took it badly. He leaned back in his seat and hissed:
"Okay, fine, laugh at me. I see. The Know-It-All girl who..."
"Malfoy! Shut up and listen to me, my God!"
This time his eyes widened, and he obeyed. Hermione resumed her explanation:
"Arithmancy is like Divination, but with numbers. You can predict the future with formulas, you can anticipate an event, except that because it's mathematics, it's anchored."
Suddenly the image of Malfoy's crystal ball came to her mind, him crying, bent double. But she pushed it away and continued:
"The formulas you see there, they serve as an example. Once you understand how they work, you'll be able to create your own series of numbers. And after that, it'll just come to you!"
"Okay..." said Malfoy, in a low voice, as if he feared she might get upset again. "But the problem is, I don't understand any of these formulas."
"Yes, you do. You just don't understand what they're for."
She pushed back her chair to come closer to him and help him write. He almost jumped when he saw her move forward, but she paid him no mind and began to write down several strings of numbers, explaining to him each time what they referred to. He listened attentively, without cutting her off once. He seemed genuinely interested, and in the end he understood.
"There, that's it." encouraged Hermione. "So now, take the exercises for tomorrow and try them, and I'll tell you if you've got it right or not."
He switched parchments and Hermione resumed her seat opposite him. She heard him scratching at his paper for long minutes but forced herself not to look, so as not to disturb him. He muttered:
"I feel like I'm Longbottom."
She had no idea what he meant and looked up from her book:
"What? Neville isn't in Arithmancy."
"I know." he said. "I'm talking about your little work sessions on Saturdays. I feel like I have a tutor or something."
She made round eyes.
"How do you know I'm helping Neville?"
He grinned:
"Oh, Granger. You've been meeting him every Saturday at the same time to work since first year, everyone's noticed."
She frowned. Even Ron and Harry didn't know about these sessions with Neville. Not because she'd never told them, but because they couldn't remember. Every Saturday since first year, whenever she got up to go join Neville, Ron would ask her, "where are you going?"
The fact that Malfoy knew this unnerved her enormously. But she didn't have time to think about it because Malfoy pushed his parchment towards her with a dismissive air:
"Well? Am I right?"
She read the formulas in her head. She noticed he had very nice handwriting, a little italicised.
"Yes, all good."
"Ah, I can't wait to see Theo's face tomorrow! He doesn't understand anything either." he said with a sneer.
"Then you should tell him to come too." she said without thinking. "I could help him."
Malfoy looked at her with an odd face:
"No, this is strange enough as it is."
He put his things away, leaving a doubtful Hermione. Then he stood up, slung his bag over his shoulder, and seemed to hesitate about something to say as he left. Usually, he never said goodbye to her, just left without a word. But this time, he thought about it, then blurted out:
"See you later, Granger."
She watched him go and disappear behind the shelves of books. She'd suspected he wouldn't say 'thank you', because that wasn't like him at all. Draco Malfoy never thanked anyone.
Hermione remained seated at the table, but she could no longer read properly. Her whole head was taken up with Malfoy and his strange behaviour over the last few days. She wondered if the relationship they had had since first year, which had been conflictual, was changing.
Maybe he was going to stop insulting her, or Harry, or Ron, and they could become friends? She hoped so, because for the first time since she'd known him, there was nothing arrogant about him.
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Hermione
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"Put your exercises on your desks and I'll correct them while you work on a new sequence of numbers that I'm going to write on the blackboard for you."
Hermione nodded and took out her Arithmancy homework. She glanced sideways at Malfoy, who was sitting next to her on the other side of the classroom wing, but he made not the slightest sign that they had done it together the previous day. He took out his parchment and put it down.
Hermione then began to write the sequel that Professor Vector had put on the blackboard as she went through the rows. The teacher crossed out a few places on Theodore Nott's parchment, who grimaced, then looked quickly at Malfoy's:
"Very good Malfoy, excellent." she commented as she continued walking towards the back of the class.
Theodore hiccupped:
"What?! Let me see that!"
He snatched the parchment from Malfoy's hands and stared at it, dumbfounded:
"How the hell did you manage to do all this? You're supposed to be rubbish at this stuff!"
"Hey, I just worked at it. You should do the same." Malfoy replied with a sneer.
Theodore looked extremely offended:
"Working... That's all I do, working! I spend all my time reading my Arithmancy manual, and you manage to do it overnight? I don't care, you're going to explain it all to me again. I've already helped you lots of times, you owe me one."
He sulked for the rest of the class, and Hermione found it hard not to laugh like Malfoy.
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Draco
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"You're terrible at explaining things, Draco." Theo said with a sigh.
He crumpled the parchment he was working on into a ball.
"You're the one who doesn't understand anything!" defended Draco.
They were both sitting on the floor, next to the small table in front of the sofa they often used in the Common Room, where Pansy and Blaise were sitting and immersed in a discussion. Theo had spread out all his Arithmancy books and was struggling to understand the lesson he was trying to learn, which was being taught very badly by Draco.
He couldn't admit that it was Granger who had helped him understand, so he tried as hard as he could to explain it to Theo again, as she had done, without success. Strangely, when she wasn't with him, it was much harder to concentrate and remember the advice she was giving him.
"Forget it." intervened Pansy with a mocking smile. "He's rubbish at anything involving fortune-telling, horoscopes, divination..."
"It's not divination!" retorted Theo, annoyed. "It's numbers, logic, it's got nothing to do with prediction!"
This was exactly the opposite of what Granger had told him, but Draco didn't deny it, because he wouldn't have been able to explain clearly why.
Daphne approached their table at this point:
"Hey, I hear you guys are having a little bet with each other about the Hogwarts champions?" she said as she took a seat next to Pansy.
"Yeah! Do you want to bet too?" offered Blaise.
"Ok." said Daphne. "I bet Fleur wins the Tournament. 10 Galleons."
Blaise raised his eyebrows:
"Risky bet, but okay."
"Risky? Why?" asked Pansy. "She's super strong."
"Pans', Krum and Diggory are in the competition." said Blaise.
"Yes, but Fleur has potential." said Daphne with a smile. "When I spoke to her, she was confident."
"You spoke to her?" asked Blaise suddenly, very interested. "How did she sound? Do you think I could..."
"Oh, Zabini..." said Pansy, smiling. "You don't really think you have a chance with her, do you?"
"Oh yes I do." said Blaise proudly.
"You're just saying that because she's blonde and beautiful." commented Daphne.
"Well, he wouldn't say that if she was an ugly redhead." remarked Theo.
Everyone burst out laughing.
"I like redheads." commented Blaise. "But Fleur... she's something else. Don't you think, Dray?"
Dray raised his head at his name, glanced at Pansy to see if she was jealous, and simply shrugged:
"Yeah, I guess she's fine. But I'm not very blonde."
Pansy raised her shoulders at this, obviously relieved. Draco preferred to change the subject:
"I didn't know you'd extended the bets on the winners."
"No wonder, you hardly ever come here in the evenings any more, you spend all your time in the Library." grumbled Pansy.
He ignored her and asked:
"So, who did you bet on?"
"Me, Krum." announced Blaise. "10 Galleons."
"Like Daphne, Fleur." said Pansy.
"Okay, then I bet on Diggory." said Draco for the second time in a week. "Nobody bet on Potter?"
Everyone laughed a second time:
"Potter? You might as well throw your Galleons into the Black Lake. Impossible." said Blaise.
"It's Diggory, the real champion of Hogwarts. Potter stinks!" said Pansy.
Draco repeated this sentence several times in his head.
"It sounds like a slogan." he said evasively.
"Yeah, it does." realised Pansy. ""Potter stinks." It should be written on a banner, and hung in the Great Hall, for Potter to stumble across at breakfast."
Draco chuckled, and while the others continued chatting, he thought back to Granger's silly association, the spew one, and her little badges she carried around everywhere.
"No... Not a banner... I have another idea."
.
.
Hermione
.
.
The rest of the week flew by, and Hermione spent every evening in the Library. Harry went with her during lunchtimes to practise the Summoning Charm that he couldn't quite manage. And in the evenings, Malfoy would sit at her table and work with her.
Some evenings they didn't speak at all, and others they exchanged a few sentences. Malfoy always made fun of the S.P.E.W whenever she took out her box of badges, but she tried to ignore him and carried on working.
On Tuesday and Thursday, Harry came with her, because he was lonely and didn't want to go back to Gryffindor Tower without her. And on those two evenings, Malfoy didn't come to the Library. Hermione wondered how he knew she wasn't alone without even going inside to check.
On Friday afternoon, Harry was particularly depressed. He was so moody that he couldn't do any Accio, and although Hermione said you had to study theory to do it, she knew in her heart that he couldn't do it because he was sad. She knew this because when Ron and Harry had ignored her the year before, she had been much worse in lessons. She wanted to explain to Harry that magic had a lot to do with morale, but she was afraid he'd take it the wrong way and preferred not to say anything.
They ate in silence and went to Potions class. Since Ron had stopped talking to him, Harry seemed to be suffering even more in those particular classes, so he reluctantly made his way through the dungeons to Potions.
In the distance, Hermione saw the Slytherin group consisting of Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, Crabbe and Goyle, and a few girls Hermione didn't know.
They were all laughing and turned towards them as they approached. Hermione then saw several badges pinned to their wizarding robes. On them was written in red letters: "Support Cedric Diggory, the real Hogwarts champion!"
She felt Harry tense up beside her.
"Do you like it, Potter?" asked Malfoy in his drawl. "And that's not all, look!"
He pressed his badge and the message of support for Cedric melted away to reveal another message, which read in green letters, "Potter stinks". All the Slytherins did the same, and suddenly all the badges turned green with the glittering message, and they burst out laughing. Hermione noticed that Theodore Nott was the only one without a badge: he was leaning against a wall in the dungeons and not taking part in the conversation, immersed in a book.
"Oh, very funny." Hermione hissed at Pansy Parkinson, who was laughing out loud. "Really witty."
"Want one, Granger?" asked Malfoy, turning to her. "I've got loads. But don't touch my hand, I've just washed it, don't want a Mudblood sliming it up."
Hermione raised her eyebrows as she stared at Malfoy. She thought back to the two times they had shaken hands to bet in secret. That he hadn't made the slightest remark then that she might be 'dirty'. And that he himself had held out his hand to her to bet on Diggory.
What's more, she was sure that he was making a hidden reference to her association, which irritated her even more.
Besides... She looked at the badges. They were exactly like the ones she had made, the ones in her metal box that she had designed in the Library, in front of him. She felt anger welling up inside her: he had taken inspiration from her work to make these, and mocked Harry! And on top of that, he was insulting her to make everyone laugh!
She wanted to say something back to him, something that would hurt as much as he was making her feel right now. Hermione was staring into his cold, mean, grey eyes, thinking about what she could throw at him, when she was jostled by Harry. She turned towards him and saw that he had pulled out his wand and was pointing it at Malfoy.
She had rarely seen him so angry in her life.
"Harry!" she cried, grabbing his arm fiercely.
"Go on, Potter." said Malfoy coldly, his wand outstretched, too. "Moody's not here to protect you this time. Do it, if you've got the guts..."
Hermione didn't recognise the boy in front of her. He was nothing like the boy in the Library, who never raised his voice, who never said anything mean to her. This boy was cold and animated by an icy anger that frightened her a little.
They both cast a spell at the same time:
"Furunculus!" shouted Harry.
"Dentesaugmento!" shouted Malfoy.
The jets of light from both wands flew out at the same time, colliding with each other and ricocheting violently. Hermione saw Malfoy's pink light bounce back and hit her right in the middle of the face. Immediately, she felt a deep pain, as if her gums were splitting open.
She groaned in pain and could just make out the worry on Malfoy's face before she closed her eyes.