tw: very slight reference for emetophobes to the penultimate paragraph of Draco's first POV
PS : I'm sorry :/
.
.
Hermione
.
.
Ever since the Yule Ball had been announced by McGonagall, it had been all anyone could talk about. It was as if the whole Castle had started chattering at once, broadcasting a constant hum. The dresses, the guests, the riders, the decorations, the band that was going to play... It was all she'd heard all day.
On the evening of the announcement, Hermione thought she would finally be at peace in the comfort of the Common Room, but that was before Ginny rushed at her before she had even stepped through the portrait opening.
"Hermione! Hermione! Did you hear about the Ball?"
Hermione rolled her eyes.
"What do you think? How could I not have heard about it? I even heard Flitwick asking Madame Hooch what colour he should wear for the evening." she sighed.
"Oh, great!" cried Ginny, overexcited. She whirled around her like a fly, then sat down right next to her on the couch. "So, what do you think?"
"What do you mean, what do I think?" repeated Hermione, a little irritated.
"Well, you know! Who are you going with?"
Hermione pulled out a book and opened it in her lap, but Ginny didn't take it as a polite request to leave her alone and continued to stare at her. Hermione sighed a second time:
"I don't know, aren't it supposed to be the boys who have to invite the girls?"
"Yes, but who would you want to go with?" asked Ginny impatiently.
Hermione thought about the question. Ron, of course, was the first person that came to mind. She imagined him, stressed, asking her to go to the Ball, inviting her to dance, and perhaps even kissing her under the starry ceiling of the Great Hall...
She pulled herself together quickly, not wanting to blush under Ginny's questioning eyes.
"No idea." she said, plunging falsely into her book.
"Liar." replied Ginny. "You wish it was Ron, don't you?"
How did she guess Hermione's thoughts before she even thought them herself?
"That's silly, he'd never do it." Hermione replied.
"Well... If it makes you feel any better, the one I want will never invite me either." said Ginny, suddenly less enthusiastic.
Hermione had no trouble understanding who she was talking about.
"I'm sure someone other than Harry will invite you, Ginny."
"I hope so, otherwise I wouldn't be able to go!"
"You know what? If no boys invite us, we'll both go together." Hermione offered. "I'll invite you."
"With flowers?" asked Ginny with a smile.
"Flowers and a card." concluded Hermione with a smile.
"Sounds good to me."
At that moment, Harry and Ron returned from dinner. Ron sat next to Hermione on the sofa and Harry sat in his favourite chair, facing the crackling fire.
Ginny eventually met up with some Gryffindor friends from her year and chatted in hushed tones, probably about the Ball again. Hermione was glad to be friends with Harry and Ron at that moment, because neither of them talked about dates or dresses to buy. They started a game of chess while Hermione read her book on the sofa, snuggled under the blanket her mum had made for her, cinnamon tea in her hands, finally enjoying the peace she'd been waiting for all day.
.
.
.
.
The day after McGonagall's announcement, Hermione went to the Library straight after her Rune Study class. When she entered, Krum was already seated at his favourite table in the centre of the Library. He looked up when he saw her and gave her a slight nod, so slight that she wondered if it was meant for her.
His fan club of girls was even bigger than usual, probably waiting to be invited by the Bulgarian to the Yule Ball. Hermione ignored the furious looks she received for having piqued Krum's interest, and reached the table hidden behind the shelves. It was empty.
Hermione tried to convince herself that she didn't care. Malfoy usually sat there on Fridays, but he didn't come every time. He was probably spending evenings with the Slytherins, where the parties were all monumental, from what they said.
She sat down at this table anyway, because all the others were busy and she didn't want to be embarrassed by untimely giggles. She took her borrowed books out of her bag and returned them to Madam Pince, then went to the Magical Creatures section. All the books looked interesting, so it was quite difficult to select three or four.
When her arms were loaded with five volumes, Hermione turned to go back to her table, and jumped when she came face to face with Viktor Krum. She hadn't heard him approach. He was already looking at her, seemingly hesitating to say something, but then abandoned his initiative and pretended to be looking for a book himself.
She returned to the secluded table, wondering what Viktor Krum wanted to tell her. Malfoy still wasn't there. Hermione tried to hide her disappointment once again, even though no one around her could see her face. She sat down, materialised her cup of tea, made herself one, and opened the first book on Magical Creatures.
Hermione loved Hagrid, he was one of her favourite people at Hogwarts, but she had to admit that the Care of Magical Creatures classes were a bit hollow, so she was reading a few books on the subject to catch up.
She was reading an interesting description of the Nifflers when Malfoy's drawling voice came from beside her:
"Granger."
She was so startled that she nearly spilled her tea on the yellowed pages of the book she was reading. Had she gone deaf in the space of an afternoon, with Krum and Malfoy she couldn't hear?
He arched a questioning eyebrow at her reaction and she coughed slightly before greeting him back:
"Good evening Malfoy. Late?"
"Late?" he repeated as he sat down opposite her. "Since when are there timetables? Did you think I was Longbottom?"
"No, it's just that on Fridays you usually come early."
He shrugged and took out a Potions book. She watched him settle in, staring a little too long at his hands. She had never noticed that his ring bore a crest, probably his family's because it was a large black M with a snake coiled around it.
"New book?" he asked in a voice tinged with amusement.
She looked up from her hands to concentrate on his face. She must not have understood quickly enough, because he pointed to the book she was reading and added:
"House elves?"
"Oh." she said, reacting far too late. "Oh, no. I mean, yes, but that's not why I'm reading it."
He was intrigued and glanced at the pages, one of which he could see a drawing of a Niffler.
"You read the..."
He suddenly seemed to understand and stopped frowning. His mouth stretched into a mocking smile, the kind he gave when he had just understood something.
"Ah, I see." he said, emphasising each letter to make her uncomfortable. "A sudden urge to study Care of Magical Creatures, Granger?"
"Er... Yes, I'm doing some research... For homework..." she lied.
"Nonsense. We don't have homework, we're still studying Explosive Larvae, or whatever they're called." said Draco, pointing his quill at her. "You're getting ahead of yourself on the syllabus, because your dear Hagrid is incapable of leading a class."
"No." she replied, avoiding looking at him.
"Granger, be honest." he said. "You can't look me in the eye and tell me without batting an eyelid that you genuinely think Hagrid's classes are instructive."
Harry, Ron and Ginny had told her too many times that she was incapable of lying to dare do what he asked. She swept the pages of the book with her hand, because she didn't know what to do with them when he was watching her like that.
"I find them very interesting." she replied in a small voice.
"Of course." said Malfoy as sarcastically as he could. "And Crabbe is soon to be appointed Minister of Magic."
She couldn't help but burst out laughing and finally looked up at Malfoy. His eyes inspected her, like lie detectors that could read her as easily as a book.
"Admit it. I won't tell anyone." he whispered, his eyes locked in hers. "I just want to hear you say it: Hagrid is not a good teacher."
She swallowed with difficulty. She hated it when people talked badly about Hagrid, even if, inwardly, she agreed a little. Besides, Malfoy's eyes were too intense to look away.
"Hagrid is very interesting, and he's passionate about Magical Creatures, he looks after them very well." she stammered.
"Okay, but that's not what I wanted to know." said Malfoy without hiding his amusement.
"Well... Maybe... The classes could be a bit more... complete." she finally admitted.
Draco seemed half convinced by this answer.
"Yeah. I think you know perfectly well that Hagrid isn't a good teacher, he doesn't know how to teach, and his lessons are almost dangerous, but you don't want to admit it. Isn't honesty one of the qualities of a Gryffindor?" he asked mockingly.
"No, that's Hufflepuffs." she murmured.
Draco chuckled and continued reading his Potions book, letting her breathe a little. Each exchange with him became more and more intense, especially when he stared at her like that. It was as if she was suddenly much more vulnerable.
They studied in silence as the minutes ticked by. Hermione leafed through some books on Magical Creatures while writing notes on a revision scroll, such as some definitions of creatures she'd never had the opportunity to see in real life.
She was about to ask Malfoy if he had ever seen a Griffin, when he made a strange noise. She raised her head and met his gaze, which was staring at what she was holding in her hands.
"What's that wand?" he asked, intrigued.
She looked down at the pen she was holding between her two fingers to write notes.
"Oh. It's a pen."
"I've never seen this before. What's that thing?" he asked.
"It's quite normal that you've never seen it, it's Muggle."
Malfoy twitched and looked at the pen as if it had suddenly become an instrument of torture.
"It's for writing." she explained. "It's like a quill, except you don't have to dip it in ink, there's a little reservoir in it, see?"
She showed him the transparent tube inside the pen and Draco was speechless. She ran the lead of the pen over the parchment, leaving a blue trace which he inspected carefully.
"It looks magical." he said suspiciously.
"No, it's Muggle. It's just an invention so you don't have to dip your pencil in ink, that's all. It's more practical."
"Why do you use a pin when you have quills?" he asked, despite the fact that she'd just explained it.
"A pen." she corrected. "It's more practical for writing, quicker. I asked my mum to send me some, it's useful when I write notes. Here, try it."
She handed him the pen but he recoiled, as if she were handing him a bomb.
"No!" he cried, his eyes suddenly wide. "No, I don't want to touch that."
"Oh, stop it Malfoy. It's just a pen."
"It's Muggle." he said, almost spitting out the word.
"You know, just because it's Muggle doesn't mean it's tainted." she said with a sigh. "Suit yourself, bother with your quills that stain everything, then."
She continued to write, ignoring Draco's wary gaze as he followed the ink trail on the paper. After several thoughtful minutes, he continued:
"I didn't know there were such things as Muggle objects. I mean, I understood that certain objects existed in both worlds, like the piano, but I didn't know that there were objects that were only Muggle."
Hermione gave up trying to explain the function of a computer to him before it had even formed in her mind. She simply nodded:
"You know, Muggle Studies is fascinating. Muggles can create very useful objects, and without magic to help them. You should have taken it last year, you would have learnt so much."
Draco let out a petty laugh between his lips, still without taking his eyes off the pen.
"Yeah, sure. I can see myself coming back from Hogwarts and telling my dad I've taken the Muggle option, he'd be thrilled."
Hermione didn't know what to say to that, because he was probably right. She couldn't really imagine Lucius Malfoy asking Draco the function of a battery, as Arthur might. She just kept writing.
.
.
Draco
.
.
The noise of the pen against the parchment was unbearable. It scratched the paper and distracted him from his reading. He kept coming back to it with his eyes to watch it move back and forth, following Granger's round handwriting. It looked like magic, whatever she said.
At 5.30pm, she switched to Arithmancy. Draco had decided to ignore this subject until it became too urgent, in which case he would ask Theo to do his exercises for him.
The sound of a chair hitting the floor echoed through the library, followed by dozens of others. Krum must have been leaving the library. At the end of the racket and the giggles of the girls that weren't camouflaged by the bookshelves between them and them, Granger grumbled.
"Something wrong, Granger?" asked Malfoy without looking up from his book.
"No, just annoyed with those girls. They haven't left the Library once since September, and I've never seen them with a book in front of them!"
"So what? They have a right to be there."
"Maybe, but they bother me. They're only there for Krum, just to get noticed by him." she grumbled.
"It's understandable, Granger. He's an international star." explained Draco, who had to restrain himself from laughing at the stubbornness of the girl in front of him.
She rolled her eyes gravely:
"I know he's a famous player, Ron's told me enough times as it is!" she said, suddenly very irritated, as if she'd already had this conversation dozens of times. "I'm just saying that's all they're there for. He's not even good-looking, a bit grumpy, and absolutely no loquacious!"
Draco had to muster all his strength not to scoff at the use of the word 'loquacious'.
"If he's as grumpy as you are now, you'd make a very handsome couple." he remarked.
She rolled her eyes again, which she often did when she was exasperated by something, especially by what he was saying.
"Nonsense. He's got hundreds of girls following him around and he doesn't talk to any of them. He must be gay."
This time Draco burst out laughing. He absolutely had to share this theory with Blaise.
"I don't think so." said Draco. "But you should worry about your boyfriend, he's the one who drools when he looks at him every time he walks by."
Granger frowned as she set her book down on the table.
"Who?" she asked.
"Weasley."
She grimaced, but he noticed that she seemed less shocked at the idea of Weasley being her boyfriend than Potter. His curiosity got the better of him.
"He's not my boyfriend." she said firmly.
"And yet you seem to be drooling all over him." he said with a mocking smile.
This time, she made a real face.
"Nonsense! I've never drooled over Ron."
"Of course you haven't, Granger. Just say that to convince yourself."
Actually, he was a little relieved to hear her say that. He'd been terrified at the thought of her dating Weasley. But he wasn't completely convinced of her answer either, because Granger had as low a capacity for lying as Theo had for not complaining, or Pansy had for not gossiping. He insisted, falsely snide:
"I'm sure deep down you're just like those girls." he said, pointing behind him with his thumb. "You pretend to hate them, but you're just like them. You wait for Weasley like the Prince Charming he is."
Granger let out a fake laugh in disguise.
"Ha-ha-ha."
Still, she'd blushed hard, which had to mean he'd said at least one true thing in there.
"Admit it. Ever since you got your new teeth, and learned to do your hair to a minimum, you've been waiting for Ronald Weasley to make you dance."
"You're not making any sense, Malfoy." she decreed, taking care to look everywhere but at him. "If you knew Ron at all, you'd know he's not like that. We don't feel anything for each other."
Why was she blushing so much? If he was really wrong, she would have had no trouble rebuffing him. Her reaction worried him.
"I don't believe it." he said stubbornly.
"Then don't believe it!" she exclaimed, a little more impatiently. "Ron's my best friend, I love him very much, but that's all. He didn't even notice that my teeth had changed. And do I ask if you like Pansy Parkinson? Leave me alone!"
"What?" intervened Draco.
Granger pretended to go back to her book, as if she hadn't planned to say that out loud.
"What?" she repeated.
"What did you just say? Weasley didn't notice your teeth?"
Finally, she lifted her head, meeting his gaze. Hers was unreadable, simply puzzled. When he mentioned her teeth, she ran her tongue over them without realising, perhaps to check that they were still shorter.
"Er, no." she said, to end the conversation.
But Draco had no desire to end the conversation.
"How could Weasley not have noticed your teeth?"
It was impossible. Weasley couldn't see clearly. It was all Draco had seen since she'd come back from the hospital wing. Whenever she opened her mouth, the difference in the length of her teeth was obvious, it had changed her smile, her facial expressions. It was prettier, even if sometimes he missed the slightly longer teeth she used to have.
How could Weasley, who spent all his time with her, not have noticed this change?
She shrugged.
"I don't know, it can't be very noticeable."
Just by saying that sentence, he could see the change: before, her lips curled over her teeth, whereas now, he couldn't see them.
"He's blind. Or really stupid, even more so than Crabbe and Goyle."
She smiled a little. It was so strange to know that he'd noticed the very next day, when Weasley had seen her every day since, had spoken to her, maybe even seen her smile, and hadn't noticed the difference in her teeth. He was stunned by this new information.
"Are you jealous, Malfoy?" she asked mischievously.
He refocused on their conversation.
"No. I'm just saying that you're friends with two idiots, and you prove it to me every day. And you're the jealous one, you think I didn't hear you when you asked me if I was going out with Pansy?"
"I didn't ask you anything." she said, hiding her face with her book, probably to stop him seeing her blush.
He smiled in spite of himself. She might not be able to hide her blushes, but she was incapable of resisting her curiosity. Draco managed to gather the information he needed without appearing intrusive, but her disinterested air wasn't fooling anyone. She wanted to know if he was going out with Pansy, but clearly didn't dare ask him.
He decided to give her what she wanted:
"I'm not going out with Pansy." he said. "We're just really good friends."
He couldn't see her behind her book, just a few curly locks sticking out. Yet he was sure she had smiled.
.
.
.
Dear Draco,
The Manor is as empty as ever without you. I miss our dinners together, when you used to tell me the latest news about your friends and your new Quidditch skills. I've been lonely lately because your father's been away a lot, especially at the Ministry. I don't know what business he's dealing with at the moment, but it seems important enough to devote all his time to it.
So I keep myself busy by reading, or inviting friends over for tea. Do you remember Isidora, whom you met when you were about 8 or 9? She's a distant Scandinavian cousin, whom I had the pleasure of welcoming to the Manoir a few days ago.
Apart from that, there's not much news for you in this weekly letter. I presume you will be spending Christmas at Hogwarts exceptionally, as there is a Yule Ball this year? Don't forget that your evening clothes are in the left-hand compartment of your suitcase, so ask the elves to iron them for you before the Ball. Will you be inviting Pansy? Or maybe another date?
Please give me news of Pansy, Theodore and Blaise, it's been a long time since you've kept me up to date.
Have a good week,
Mum.
"Come on Draco, we're going to be late!" said Pansy as she rose from the Slytherin bench.
Draco finished reading his mother's letter, finished his coffee in one gulp and stepped over the bench. Theo and Blaise did the same silently, a little too tired on this Monday morning to make conversation. Pansy was already at the doors of the Great Hall, obviously worried about arriving late for Herbology.
It was when Draco picked up his mother's letter from the table that he noticed a second letter had slipped out of the envelope. He looked at it with a frown: he hadn't noticed that Ebony had brought him two letters.
"Come on, Draco!" urged Pansy.
"Just a second!"
He took the second letter and examined it as he walked. It bore only his first name, so he opened it and was surprised to recognize his father's handwriting. He rarely wrote to him, and when he did, it was usually to announce something, or to send him a clipped newspaper article. He suspected that his mother had ordered his father to write to Draco.
Heading blindly towards the Herbology class behind Pansy, Theo and Blaise, Draco began reading:
"Dear Draco,
I've heard of a Ball being held on Christmas Day at Hogwarts. I wish I could make myself available to attend, but I've been particularly busy lately. I don't know what kind of atmosphere Hogwarts is in at the moment, but I can assure you that the tension at the Ministry is palpable.
The Tournament has raised fears among the leaders of the wizarding world, particularly because of Potter and his illegal entry. Journalists at the Daily Prophet think Potter got in on his own for the glory, but I think otherwise. If Potter is as stupid as you say he is, I doubt he could have tricked Dumbledore like that. No, I think there are far more ingenious plans afoot.
Don't let anyone at Hogwarts read this letter, I trust you to keep it confidential. But I want to tell you before you hear it from anyone else. I think we're entering a new age. I think that times are going to go back to the way they were meant to be, that the world is going to be purified again. The rumours are flying, Draco, and they're true. I can feel His return.
Your mother doesn't want me to tell you, but I think it's vital that you know. You're our direct link to Hogwarts and Dumbledore, and I want you to report to me on anything abnormal that happens in the next few months. Because there will be, believe me, especially this second task of the Tournament. Send me a letter as soon as you can.
Take care of yourself and your honour, Draco. It's in your hands, and it's more important than ever that our family shines and stands out from the rest.
Everything will change now.
Answer me quickly,
Lucius Malfoy.
Draco felt an unpleasant shiver run down his spine from the back of his neck. He reread the letter a second time, and the words "era", "purified", "abnormal" hit him harder than the winter wind he faced as he went out into the courtyard. He stopped at the phrase "I can feel His return." What the hell did that mean?
"All right, Draco?" asked Theo, who was waiting for him a little further on.
He hadn't realised that he'd stopped walking. He joined his friend in a few strides, and his face must have shown fear because Theo frowned and insisted:
"What's going on? Who's this letter from?"
"My father." replied Draco in a blank voice, and Theo frowned even more. "Here."
Theo took the letter and read it silently. They weren't very far from the greenhouses, Draco could see Pansy settling in through the transparent bay windows. He waited for Theo to finish reading, ignoring the knot that had formed in his stomach.
Selfishly, Draco was slightly relieved. He had thought, when he saw that his father had written him a letter, that Lucius had been told about his meetings with Granger. If he had known what he was doing, he would probably have sent him a Howler, or worse, gone there to confront him directly.
But this letter was just as threatening. Draco weighed up the consequences as the sentences he had written became imprinted on his mind.
Theo finally looked up. He still looked puzzled, but much paler.
"Do you believe it?" he finally said in a serious tone.
"I don't know." admitted Draco. "But it's not very reassuring, in any case. If my father's right... He could be behind Potter's entry."
He thought back to what Granger had told him, when Potter had been named as the second champion of Hogwarts. That it could be a harbinger of the return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. He hadn't given it much thought since.
Theo shuddered, as had Draco a few seconds earlier. They looked into each other's eyes for a second, and Draco could see the fear in Theo's blue eyes, probably the same fear he could see in his own too.
"Come on, we'll show it to Blaise and Pansy." Theo said, his voice suddenly a lot less confident than before.
They continued walking, the two of them not speaking. For once, Theo didn't complain about the cold or the snow his feet were sinking into. He was too deep in his own thoughts to notice.
The Herbology class started just as Draco sat down on the stool next to Pansy, so he decided to show them the letter at break time. That didn't stop him thinking about it throughout the lesson, though. He didn't listen to a word of Sprout's talk about the Flitterblooms, or Pansy's chatter about her preparations for the Yule Ball.
He was thinking about his father's letter and the fear was growing inside him, little by little. Unlike the anger he usually felt, the fear was cold, sly. It didn't pour out of him like a fire, it slowly froze him. And he hated this fear, because it wasn't familiar like his anger, he didn't know how to manage it to stop it spreading.
Usually he liked Herbology class, because it was shared with the Gryffindors and he could watch Granger cutting her plants or look at Longbottom with that look of jealousy she thought she was hiding. But during that class, he didn't even glance in her direction, too distracted. Theo did not participate either, probably just as upset by what he had just read as Draco.
The letter stayed in his mind all day. Pansy and Blaise were more indifferent to it, they both thought his father was exaggerating to impress him. Yet Draco knew deep down that this was not the case. The fact that he was sending him this news was quite telling. Draco reread it over lunch, and thought back over every line during his afternoon classes, trying to unearth some hidden meaning, some secret code that Lucius might have told him.
In his last class of the day, Transfiguration, he realised something.
The phrase his father had used, which had chilled his blood since that very morning, "I can feel His return", was not metaphorical. His father could feel the return of the Dark Lord. On his arm. On the black mark embedded in his flesh, the one that had given Draco nightmares as a child because Lucius used it as a threat, a punishment. It must have quivered several times, indicating His return. The thought made him want to vomit.
Draco went to bed very early that night. He wanted to sleep to forget what had haunted him all day and move on. The letter had remained on his desk and he could see it when he opened his eyes, lit up by the faint rays of the moon, like a tangible threat that his world was about to come crashing down.
That night, for the first time in his life, he dreamt of Hermione Granger. And when he woke up, he realised how frightened he was by this dream.
.
.
Hermione
.
.
Five days. Draco Malfoy hadn't been to the Library for five days.
It was the first time he hadn't been there for that long since they'd started studying together. Hermione had gone to the Library every night this week, alone, and the secluded table had remained strangely empty.
On Monday, she'd thought he must have been too tired. On Tuesday, she thought that perhaps he hadn't felt like leaving his friends. On Wednesday, she thought he had probably been anticipating his Astronomy class and wanted to rest beforehand.
On Thursday, she thought maybe he didn't want to see her any more.
The last time they'd studied together had been last Sunday, and no matter how many times Hermione replayed the afternoon in her head, she couldn't understand what had upset him. He'd done exactly what he always did: he'd teased her, he'd made fun of the S.P.E.W, Harry, Ron, Neville, he'd laughed when Hermione explained that she was already preparing for her OWLs next year, and he'd even said "goodbye" to her as she left. He'd been perfectly pleasant, at least, as pleasant as Draco Malfoy could be.
And besides, she didn't know if it was because she was only noticing him now, but he was much less present than before. She used to bump into him all the time: in the corridors, in the Great Hall, in the courtyard... He always sat opposite her during meals, three tables away, and they exchanged discreet glances from time to time, or at the table next to her in Potions... This week, that was no longer the case at all.
It was as if he was avoiding her. He no longer even glanced at her, no longer made a single scathing remark. Normally, he'd laugh at her when she walked by, and she'd say something back to annoy him, and they'd bicker like that, without anyone around them knowing that they were spending hours together in a corner of the Library.
But his silence and ignorance were extremely burdensome. Hermione tried to meet his eyes, to send him a discreet signal, but it was as if he didn't see her. How could he have changed his attitude so quickly, without warning? Especially as he was still acting the same way as before with Pansy Parkinson, still laughing with her in the corridors.
On Friday, after Potions class, where Malefoy had spent the whole two hours with his back turned, and dinner talking to Blaise Zabini, she once again found the Library table empty. She had expected it, of course, but that didn't stop Hermione from feeling an unpleasant tingling in her stomach: disappointment.
She tried to work, but realised that her lack of concentration was preventing her from being efficient. She kept looking up at the slightest noise, secretly hoping to see him coming, with his grin and his "Good evening Granger". But he didn't. He didn't show up all evening, and Hermione had made absolutely no progress with her studies.
She finally gave up and left the Library before it closed. Even Madam Pince raised her eyebrows as she walked past the desk to leave, because usually she had to chase her out of the Library.
Hermione wandered through the corridors, taking advantage of the fact that they were empty because all the students had already gone back to their Common Rooms to start the weekend. She didn't particularly want to go, she was still too worried. She kept wondering, over and over again, what had gone through Draco Malfoy's mind to give up these study sessions.
She walked randomly and found herself by chance in the dungeons. She pulled her cardigan tighter around her to protect her from the damp cold that always spread through this part of the castle, which she hated. It was cold, dull, dreary, everything she hated, and the exact opposite of the warm Gryffindors Tower.
She wondered which of its grey walls opened into the Slytherin Common Room. She had never had the opportunity to enter it, or even to see any of the students going in. In any case, there was no noise to suggest a party, although she suspected that the walls must have been soundproofed, because there were always Slytherin parties on Friday nights.
Hermione went back up the stairs, because she didn't really want to get caught by a Slytherin hanging around in the dungeons. Draco was probably out partying anyway, so there was no way she'd be able to see him alone tonight to ask him what his problem was.
Suddenly, she stopped abruptly on the step. She remembered something he had said a few weeks earlier: "I come here to settle down and think a bit."
She continued walking, but instead of continuing up the stairs to the Gryffindors' Common Room, she turned left and opened the heavy door to the back courtyard. The cold seized her immediately, her poor woollen cardigan did nothing to protect her from the December weather. Still, she walked along the path, picking out places where the snow had melted to the ground.
She was sure she'd find him there, on his bench, and indeed she had been right. Malfoy was sitting looking at the front of Hogwarts without seeing it. Behind him, the sky was fading, revealing the sun setting over the valley.
It took him a while to see her, and it wasn't until she was three-quarters of the way along that he turned his head and flinched. As she reached him, she realised that she had no idea what she wanted to say. He was waiting, his eyebrows furrowed, looking rather annoyed, and she was standing there like an idiot.
"Good evening Malfoy." was the first thing she managed to say.
Draco sighed loudly, a sigh full of annoyance and resentment.
"You're definitely having trouble understanding signals, Granger." he said coldly.
She frowned.
"Excuse me?"
"Nothing. I have nothing to say to you, go away." he blurted out without looking at her.
His tone was as cold as the wind that chilled her to the spot. She ignored him and sat down on the bench, he slid to the end.
"Didn't you hear me, Granger? Go away." Draco snapped.
"No." she replied.
"You're so stubborn." he said, his eyes still fixed on the Castle.
"And you're a coward."
She had said this without thinking, but it elicited an immediate reaction from him. He turned his head curtly towards her, his grey eyes icy, his face contracted with bitterness:
"It's not true." he hissed.
"Yes, it is." Hermione continued. "You've been acting normal for the last week, and suddenly you're ignoring me? You're avoiding me, without saying anything to me by way of explanation?"
"I don't owe you anything, Granger."
"Parkinson found out your little secret? Nott? Zabini?" she ventured.
"No." he said, turning his attention back to the windows of Hogwarts. "Nothing to do with it, I simply decided it myself. Now, go away."
"And you don't think I deserve to know about it?!" she grew impatient with his silence. "Did you think I wasn't going to notice, that I wasn't going to ask you where you'd been?!"
"You're so curious, Granger!" he exploded. "Aren't you sick of it, snooping around?! Can't you just understand that I don't want to see you? That I've had enough?"
"I'm not too nosy, I'm just trying to understand!" she exclaimed, annoyed as well. "You can't just disappear from one day to the next without warning!"
"Yes, I can! And that's what I'm doing. Now, for the last time, go away!"
He waved his hand at her, as if to sweep her away from him. But Hermione wasn't going to leave without getting what she wanted:
"I'll leave when you've explained to me clearly what you're upset about."
He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Hermione waited, and every breath she took left a cloud of cold. She waited while Draco chose his words carefully, until at last he spat out in a brittle voice:
"I don't want to be seen with a Mudblood."
The insult hurt, much more than she could have imagined. She'd heard it from him several times now, but the fact that he said it without even looking at her made her shiver.
"All right." she said simply, her throat constricting.
She was even more confused than when she had arrived. She rose to her feet and sought his gaze one last time, but it was still resolutely turned. She turned on her heels, walked up the path, then changed her mind and abruptly turned back.
"No, Malfoy." she said firmly. "That's no explanation. If you think I'm going to settle for this after spending dozens of evenings in the Library with you, you don't know me very well, after all. I don't believe you."
She sat back down and stared at him:
"I know I wasn't the only one who enjoyed our sessions in the Library. No matter how much you pretend not to care, I know for a fact that something's bothering you, or you'd never have stopped coming. We were beginning to become friends, the two of us, and you..."
"Friends?" he cut in with an evil laugh. "We were never friends, Granger. I still hate you just as much."
"I know that's not true." she said. "If you did, you'd tell me by looking me in the eye."
He turned as he heard this and finally met her gaze. They were facing each other, yet she had the impression that he was very far away from her. Looking at her, he deflated a little, as if he couldn't be mean all of a sudden.
"It's too dangerous." he breathed, more to himself than to her.
"What's dangerous? We're just studying together, and no one's seen it."
"No, you don't understand." he whispered. "I have a lot at stake."
"What do you mean?"
He spoke so low she was forced to bend over to catch everything he said.
"We can never be friends, you and me. I know you think it's possible, but it's not. You see too much of the good in people, Granger. I can't be the person you want me to be."
"But how can you know what I want?"
"Because you're a fucking Gryffindor, you expect to change my mind!" he hissed through gritted teeth, his words almost inaudible. "You want to change me, make me into something I'm not. But here's the reality: you're a Gryffindor, I'm a Slytherin. You're friends with Potter, and I'm Lucius Malfoy's son. I'm supposed to hate you!"
"And you don't?" asked Granger.
His left eye twitched a little, but he held his gaze.
"No. I don't." he said in a whisper. "But it doesn't matter. I can't risk my life for a few hours in the Library."
"You always act like you're the only one involved in the whole thing! Like I don't have a say!" she snapped.
"Because your opinion doesn't change anything. I have to stop. Those times in the Library, or even on that bench, it's dangerous."
He wanted to say something more to her but refrained at the last moment, then turned his head back towards the Castle. Hermione felt the sentence as if it had gone through her body, like a needle through her flesh.
"So what, we can't be friends any more because you decided it on a Monday morning? Had you forgotten that I was a Muggle-born in the meantime?"
He gave a mirthless laugh.
"No, believe me, I haven't forgotten that."
Suddenly, the sadness she felt at having lost the only Malfoy personality she liked turned to rage. She looked at the insipid, closed-off boy in front of her, and she felt anger boiling in her veins.
Hermione rose abruptly from the bench, and he didn't even turn his head towards her.
"You know what Malfoy? You really are a coward. You always have been, I don't know why I was so stupid to think you could behave decently. Thank you for making me realise that."
And she walked away, this time well up the path towards the Castle. She was raging, so much so that she couldn't even feel the cold that had numbed her limbs.
When she reached the middle of the path, she heard a faint "Granger" at her back, but she didn't turn round. She didn't want to know what he meant, she wanted to get away from him as quickly as possible.
He didn't insist. He let her go all the way, and anyway, his words were probably blown away by the wind.
Draco
Draco sat on the bench for a long time, but the whole conversation he'd just had at Granger made his stomach hurt too much to ignore the sensation any longer. He should have done this long before, detached himself from her before they got too attached to their friendship. It was doomed to failure anyway.
He thought back to Blaise's words: "I say you should enjoy it. If you like her, and she likes you, don't let your family stop you. They don't even know about it. Don't beat yourself up about it."
He so wished he'd taken that advice. He had convinced himself that it was possible. But that was before his father's letter.
When he arrived at the dungeons, his fingers were still blue. He shoved them into his pockets to try and warm them and whispered the password.
The Common Room was still filled with smoke. He soon found the person who had caused it: Pansy was lying on the usual green sofa, half on top of Daphne, who was also smoking one of her Muggle cigarettes.
He watched as Pansy chatted and spat out her smoke and made shapes with it. Just as an "O" appeared in the air, he made an impulsive decision.
He approached the sofa quickly. Seeing him, Pansy straightened up slightly.
"Hey Draco, do you want some space?" she offered.
He took a deep breath and asked:
"Pansy, do you want to be my date, for the Ball?"
Pansy opened big round eyes, half interrupted in her movement to give him room on the sofa. Daphne choked dramatically on her cigarette smoke.
Draco heard Blaise's advice in his head again, the voice of wisdom: "Stop getting her hopes up. Tell her honestly that you don't love her, but that you want to remain her friend. Pansy's a grown-up, she'll understand."
So he added in a hurried sentence:
"You're the only person I want to go with."
It wasn't entirely true, but the other person was completely unthinkable in every way, and anyway, he wanted to go with Pansy. As friends. Before he could clarify that, Pansy crushed her cigarette in a makeshift ashtray and smiled.
It was the first real smile he'd seen for a week, and it warmed his heart and brought him some comfort on this horrible day.
"Of course I want to be your date. I didn't think you'd ask me, I thought it was already the case..." said Pansy.
Her eyes were bright, like Granger's earlier.
"I figured you wanted a formal invitation." he said.
He was suddenly aware of the dozens of students around Pansy watching the scene. Daphne, who was closest to his circle of vision, was still stunned. Draco cleared his throat and danced from one foot to the other:
"So, that's it." he concluded on a rather awkward note. "I'm going to bed."
"Okay." replied Pansy, who looked surprised by this totally unusual behaviour.
He made his way to the dormitories, trying not to listen to the murmurs of the girls as he turned round. He crossed the crowded Common Room and spotted Blaise. Even though he hadn't been able to hear what he'd just said to Pansy, Draco had the impression that his best friend was being judgmental.
Draco lay back in bed fully dressed, thankful that Theo already had his curtains closed. He did the same with his and turned to look at the green fabric ceiling of his four-poster bed.
He had invited Pansy, everything was as it was supposed to be. He was a respectable Pureblood, who would go to the Yule Ball with a respectable, Pureblooded girl with good manners, whom his parents liked. He had Slytherin friends, and didn't hang out with the scum, the Gryffindors, the filth his father insulted on a daily basis.
"Yes." said the little voice in his head, the one Draco was desperately trying to silence. "But then, why are you so sad?"