Hermione
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"Talk?" Hermione repeated in disbelief. "Er, yes of course."
Viktor nodded and turned into the corridor. There was a serious look on his face that worried her a little. Hermione followed him, staring at the back of his shoes, suddenly a little stressed.
Viktor stopped at one of the white alcoves in the Gryffindor corridor. From there, they were hidden from the students entering and leaving the Common Room, and only a few feet from where Viktor had kissed her. Hermione felt a little uncomfortable as she remembered that moment. As if reading her mind, Krum cast a furtive glance in the direction of the alcove in question before returning to her.
"How are you feeling?" he finally asked.
Hermione absentmindedly pulled a thread from her jumper to avoid looking Viktor in the eye. His closed, scarred face was suddenly more frightening than usual.
"Fine." she replied honestly. "I'm preparing for the exams, so I'm pretty swamped."
"And are you... avoiding me, by any chance?" asked Viktor petulantly.
Hermione was. Definitely. She always sat at his table before he did in the Library, so he wouldn't intercept her and ask her to sit with him. She avoided his gaze when he looked for her in the corridors or the Great Hall. And she spent all her time with Harry, Ron and... Draco.
Still, she replied:
"No! Not at all!"
She knew she was lying very badly, but Viktor must not have known her well enough to realise that. He sighed and ran a hand through his close-cropped hair:
"I must confess I don't understand very vell, Herm-own-ninny..." he explained. "You seemed to be up for it the other night..." he said.
"I was! I'm just..." Hermione struggled for a few seconds to find the right words. "Too busy with work to think about it."
He watched her, eyebrows slightly raised.
"You're having doubts, aren't you? About our kiss."
Hermione lifted her head sharply.
"No, not at all." Hermione said, sure of herself this time. "I enjoyed it very much. And I love spending time with you, it's just that it's complicated to juggle everything at once, between work, my friends..."
"Ven you say "friends"," Viktor interrupted dryly, "do you mean Harry Potter?"
"Yes." she replied without hesitation. "I'm sorry if you take this the wrong way, but I'm not going to stop seeing Harry. He's my best friend, he's like a brother to me."
"I don't really understand." Viktor admitted.
"Understand what?" asked Hermione.
"You don't have the same... Manners that ve do." admitted Viktor, suddenly pacing in front of her. "I vas talking to a friend of mine from Dumstrang and he said that the British are different from us, that they see relationships differently... In Bulgaria, a man has to court a woman and if she accepts his advances, they get married."
Hermione made a small grimace, which Viktor caught.
"Don't vorry, I vasn't going to ask you to marry me." he said with a slight smile. "I'm just saying that ve don't have the same customs as you, and I'm having trouble understanding... vere ve stand."
"Um..." Hermione began, shifting from one foot to the other. "I don't really know either, I've never done this before."
They looked at each other in silence for several seconds, both a little lost. Hermione broke the silence, embarrassed:
"We're not courting each other here. I mean, the boy makes advances and the girl accepts them or not. They spend some time together, a few dates, before they officially go out."
"And how many suitors do you have?" he asked curiously.
"I don't- I don't have any suitors!" she said in a high-pitched yelp.
"But you spend time with Potter, and the redhead, and the round-faced boy from Gryffindor, and the blonde boy, Malfoy..." the Bulgarian began to list.
"That has nothing to do with it! They're my friends, they're not dates, I just spend my days with them! You have friends at Durmstrang, don't you?" asked Hermione.
"Male friends." Krum corrected, still doubtful.
Hermione took a deep breath. She understood that Viktor was a little confused, but she found it hard to explain the basics of friendship and love without blushing.
"The boys you mentioned are my friends." she explained softly. "I've known them for a long time."
"What about us?" asked Viktor. "Are we friends?"
Hermione was dancing so much from one foot to the other that she almost wobbled when she heard this question. Her heart suddenly leapt into her throat. She looked away:
"No, not really."
Viktor looked encouraged by the answer. His eyebrows relaxed and he put on a happier expression.
"So, should I ask you out?" he asked, his voice tinged with excitement.
"You can, but there's a good chance I won't be available all the time. What with exams..."
"I understand, Hermy-own." he replied gently. "You're a bright girl, I know you need to focus on your studies."
"Are you enjoying your classes at Hogwarts?" she asked, curious and also eager to change the subject.
Viktor shrugged.
"Not really. I already know my career."
Hermione nodded, although she thought it was a bit of a shame.
They talked about Hogwarts for a while, then Viktor offered to take her back to the painting. She accepted. Once they were in front of it, she was suddenly embarrassed: should she kiss him? But he put an end to her inner questioning by simply kissing her on the cheek.
"Good night, Hermy-own."
"Good night, Viktor!"
She whispered the password and the painting opened. Inside, all the students were spread out on the sofas and armchairs. The fire was out, but the smell of burning wood still filled the round room, the smell Hermione associated with comfort and peace.
Harry was sitting at a table, all alone, bent over some homework. She approached him and he smiled as he looked up at her.
"Hermione, hey! Where have you been?"
"In the Library." she replied, as she had for the last four years. Then she checked that Ron wasn't there before whispering to Harry, "And... Viktor walked me home."
"Viktor?" asked Harry, half too focused on his homework to really listen.
"Viktor Krum."
The name snapped Harry completely out of his reading. He looked at her, his eyes round behind his glasses.
"Oh." he replied. "Oh. You're... I mean... Viktor?"
"Yes, Viktor." she said with a sigh.
"You... What's going on between you two?" Harry continued, clearly hesitating.
Hermione sat down next to Harry and massaged her temples.
"I've spent the last twenty minutes explaining to him what "a friend" is, I don't want to have that conversation with you again." she said with a smile that reassured Harry. "Let's just say... We spend time together."
"I'm fine with that answer." Harry said, obviously relieved that he didn't have to prolong this conversation any further.
"Ron wouldn't be, though." Hermione said, glancing at the redhead sitting by the fireplace. "Would you mind...?"
"I won't tell him anything Hermione." Harry said before she'd even finished her sentence.
That was why Harry was her best friend. He knew her so well.
She smiled and looked down at Harry's parchment, full of erasures and ink stains:
"Transfiguration?"
He confirmed with a sleepy nod.
"Do you need help?" she offered.
"I would marry you." replied Harry, shifting his textbook so Hermione could read.
"Don't tell Viktor, then. He wouldn't understand anything anymore." she said with a laugh.
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Hermione had always been very studious at school.
Ron and Harry reminded her often enough for her to know that. She studied harder than the other students and always got better grades. She worked tirelessly for many hours in the Library. She knew her subjects like the back of her hand.
So she was sure that the revision period would be the same as in previous years: difficult, long and busy.
But there was one small detail that changed all her plans for the week after the spring holidays.
Draco Malfoy.
She had grown accustomed to his presence in the Library, to their secret meetings after classes. She enjoyed spending her evenings studying with him, talking about anything and everything, discovering a new side to this enigmatic boy.
What she hadn't expected was to develop a new passion that Hermione Granger had never considered before.
It had started during Arithmancy class on the Monday of the new term. Hermione had sat in her usual place, front row left, at a desk all to herself, where she could spread out her books to her heart's content.
She was ahead of schedule, so she already knew the day's lesson. She had already redone the numerical diagram that Professor Vector had asked the students to reproduce on their parchments. Hermione rested her chin on the palm of her hand and looked around, waiting for the exercise to end.
Her eyes naturally fell on the table to her right, occupied by Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott. The latter was engrossed in his diagram, muttering the numbers he was copying. His curly hair fell a little in front of his eyes, covering his forehead and ears, and his Slytherin tie was a little crooked.
Draco Malfoy, on the other hand, looked nothing like his neighbour. He stood, as always, perfectly straight, his face with its natural hardness, his jaw set, his eyes scanning the book in front of him. His hair was perfectly combed and smooth, with a touch of gel carefully placed on his forehead. He didn't touch it, unlike Theodore, who kept running his hand through it when he got stuck on a number in the diagram.
Draco wore his uniform as strictly as possible, his collar and tie ironed and straight. His shirt was tucked into his uniform trousers and his green wizard's robes fell gracefully around him. His long, white hands rested on the table, and he didn't make the slightest movement except to turn the pages of his textbook.
When he read like that, he looked like a statue. A white marble statue, with chiseled, harmonious features.
Hermione was surprised that he looked nothing like the people she knew. She had never noticed the difference. Viktor's features were hard, almost menacing. The Weasleys all had round, cheerful faces that inspired confidence. Harry's face was hard to read, if you didn't look into his deep emerald green eyes.
Draco was different, as if his face had been copied from a character in a book.
Hermione noticed, for the first time since she had known him, that Draco Malfoy was absurdly handsome.
She had always found him pale and stiff. But now that she looked at him, she could see a beauty she'd never seen before. When had he stopped pulling back his blond hair? When had his jaw become so set?
Draco suddenly turned his head towards her and all Hermione could do was gasp. His eyes. She'd never seen anyone with grey eyes before she met him. Sometimes, in bright light, they took on a clear bluish tint. She was instantly drawn into his captivating gaze.
He gave a quick little smile before turning his head back to his book. Hermione blushed. Caught red-handed.
That did not stop her from watching Draco more than necessary. In every class they shared, Hermione found herself discreetly watching the blonde. She watched him talking to Parkinson or smiling with Zabini, she watched him writing his lessons or practising with his wand. Often she was so caught up in her thoughts that she had to tear herself away from her vision to work.
She looked forward to their evenings in the Library. She imagined their conversation that evening, creating dialogues in her head during class. She imagined him laughing or teasing her gently, her stomach twisting in anticipation. She remembered the way he had approached her during the Ball, when they had been shouting at each other in an empty classroom and Hermione had had the sudden urge to kiss him. She thought about it before she went to sleep and smiled in the dark.
Hermione didn't mention it to Ginny, she was too embarrassed. She didn't want to reveal this new thing that was still too fresh for her to understand herself. She tried to tell herself it was just a phase. But she had to admit that she'd never thought of Ron in this way. She'd never watched him like that in class.
Ron and Harry didn't notice this change in mood until the middle of May.
"Are you in a hurry?" asked Ron when he saw her eating her food at full speed without chewing.
"No." she said, her mouth full of cream pie.
"You look like you are though." Harry remarked.
"I'm just going to the Library." she said after swallowing her dessert properly. "I really need to finish my study of chapter seven of Defence Against the Dark Arts."
Harry and Ron rolled their eyes at the same time. If they started talking about 'workload' or 'overworking', Hermione was ready to pull out her study planner so they'd leave her alone. They had always hated that planner and always gave in when they saw it. Fortunately, they said nothing and resumed their conversation while Hermione slipped away discreetly.
She reached her favourite corridor, the one leading to the Library. Even from outside, Hermione felt she could smell the books, as if the huge room wasn't big enough to contain the smell of old paper. Hermione walked in, inhaled the scent she loved so much, greeted Madam Pince with a wave and then went to sit down at the back of the room. She walked along a few shelves, which were much dustier than the ones in the middle of the room because the students didn't go near them, and found her favourite table.
Draco was already sitting there, motionless, concentrating on a textbook. When he saw her coming, his grey eyes lit up for a second:
"There you are! I need you." he said.
"Oh?" she replied, her heart beating unusually fast.
Hermione sat down in her usual chair and took out her things, her green mug which Harry had given her, into which she poured boiling water and dipped a tea bag. Then she slumped against the back of the chair, enjoying the seconds of relaxation that this routine gave her, just before she had to study properly.
"What are you working on?" she finally asked Draco.
"Defence Against the Dark Arts."
"That's exactly what I wanted to study!" she said.
Hermione took out her planner and looked at what she had planned for tonight, crossing out some lessons she had already done and moving some subjects to other days. Meanwhile, Draco looked at the planner with an indecipherable expression on his face, as if trying to read her handwriting or her incomprehensible sense of organisation.
"So? Where do you need help?" she asked, finally looking in his direction.
Draco leaned forward to read the incantation he was about to perform. Hermione took the opportunity to quickly examine his outfit: a long-sleeved black shirt that contrasted with his pale skin. She looked down at her long fingers and the rings that adorned them before hastily turning her face back so that he wouldn't see them.
"Fumos." he said finally, lifting his head.
"Oh. We've been studying it too."
"Have you been practising?" asked Draco, interested.
"Yes, with Ron." she said, then smiled as she remembered the moment. "We did it in the Common Room, which wasn't a very good idea because the room went completely up in smoke and everyone started coughing. Everyone thought it was Fred and George's prank. The dormitory smelled of smoke for a week."
"Then I guess I shouldn't test it in the library." Draco said, putting his wand down.
"Good idea. We can test it outside if you like."
Draco agreed and they got to work. Hermione wrote her study sheet for chapter seven, trying not to look at Draco. She'd never had a problem concentrating at this table before, but lately she'd developed the annoying habit of watching Draco more than she used to. It was a distraction she tried to avoid.
When she had finished her form, she reread it several times, trying to imprint the names of the magical creatures and defensive spells, but the boy in front of her kept interrupting her mental training without doing anything to break her concentration. Hermione finally gave in, drank her lukewarm tea in one gulp and offered:
"Shall we go?"
Draco agreed and they put their things away. Usually they left at closing time, when the Library was practically empty. This time they had to split up so as not to attract the attention of the last of the workers. Draco took the Divination wing and Hermione went out through the large main room, the one where the Krum fan club always kept an eye out.
Viktor was sitting in his usual spot. When he saw her, he motioned for her to come closer.
"Hermy-own, I've been looking for you!" he murmured as she approached his table. "I wanted to know if you would be willing to walk around the Lake with me tomorrow."
Hermione didn't answer right away, surprised at the suggestion. Viktor had asked her to meet him before, but never in the form of an organised date. Besides, walking around the Lake was something she usually did with Harry.
Still, she nodded.
"All right. I finish my Rune Studies class at four tomorrow."
"I'll be there." Viktor promised with a smile.
They said goodbye and Hermione left the Library. Draco was waiting for her outside, leaning against a pillar in the corridor, his mood more glum than it had been a few minutes earlier.
"What did he want with you, Krum?" he asked, getting straight to the point.
"Oh, nothing in particular." Hermione lied.
They hadn't really talked about Viktor since the Ball, only mentioned his name in passing, just like Ron. Draco shifted his dark gaze between Hermione and the inside of the Library, where he could surely see the back of the Bulgarian's head, before continuing his walk. Thankfully, he didn't insist.
They reached their bench and Hermione made herself comfortable. The breeze was warm. Hermione no longer had to get out her jam jar to keep warm in May. She looked out at the trees around her, still lit by the last rays of sunlight on the horizon. Draco sat down next to her and she ignored the warm sensation this contact gave her, blaming it on the sun.
"Here, look what I've got." Draco said, suddenly in a better mood.
He took a box of chocolates from his bag, opened it and placed it on the bench between them.
"Ohhh! Is this the same chocolate your mother sent you for Easter?" Hermione asked as she picked up one of the small squares.
Draco had managed to get two more during the holidays, which he had shared with Hermione.
"Some of them are pralines, yes, but there are also some raspberry ones, I think." he explained.
They pecked at the chocolates while Draco told her how he had managed to take them from under Theodore's nose without him noticing while he was reading. He explained that it was Blaise who had asked him to do it so that Theodore wouldn't get a perforated stomach, which made Hermione laugh as much as she felt sorry for poor Theodore, who was about to wonder where his chocolate had gone.
They ate until Hermione felt full, although it was hard not to want more of that delicious chocolate. Then Draco practised his smoke spell. He stood up and stood in front of her, then pointed his wand at the bench and repeated several times:
"Fumos!"
"No, you need to make a bigger circle with your wand." Hermione explained.
"Show me." Draco said.
She made the gesture with her hand. Draco shook his head:
"Come and show me." he said.
Hermione stood up and walked over to him, then placed her fingers on his, the ones holding his wand. She walked him through the spell several times. It was the closest she had ever been to him physically, and she could smell his distinctive mint and apple scent wafting off his clothes. She inhaled it far more than was necessary.
"Now you say the spell." she said as she reluctantly let go of his hand.
"Fumos." he pronounced clearly.
Smoke billowed from his wand, still pointed at the bench. The smoke was not as opaque as it should be and was odourless, but it was a good step forward. Hermione congratulated him and returned to the bench, and Draco did the same.
A cloud of smoke surrounded them. It wasn't unpleasant, the grey wisps were almost hypnotic to watch. The smoke was the same colour as Draco's eyes.
When she turned her head to confirm, he was already looking at her. Hermione wondered if he was watching her as much as she was watching him.
Her rational mind screamed at her to come to her senses. Not to dwell on such silly feelings. Ron was the one she felt something for. He should be the boy who occupied all her thoughts. Why wasn't he? Why did she prefer to sit on this bench instead of upstairs with her friends?
She pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind for the moment. She simply enjoyed the moment, selfishly. She preferred to stare into the Slytherin's greyish pupils, analysing the shades of grey and blue overlapping in them.
They didn't speak, surrounded by their bubble, literally. The cloud of smoke did not dissipate and they did not speak, simply enjoying each other's silence. It was a nice feeling. It soothed Hermione's stress, the frantic beating of her heart that never really stopped.
When Draco reached into the space between them, Hermione thought he wanted a chocolate. But instead of taking the box, Draco gently placed his hand on Hermione's, never taking his eyes off her, and took it into his own, without a word.
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Draco
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Against all expectations, Draco was beginning to enjoy meditation.
He had never really believed in Divination the way Pansy did, but he had to admit that the benefits of meditation were real. Draco felt calmer, more rested. He slept better and had fewer nightmares, and when he did, Draco no longer woke up with a start.
Apparently, practising this exercise didn't shock the others. His friends must have been used to finding him immobile, lost in his own thoughts. Sometimes he would emerge from his mental contemplation to find everyone around him, not knowing how long they had been there. He would simply pick up the conversation as if nothing had happened.
The ability to rest and clear his mind helped him greatly in his Occlumancy lessons. When classes resumed after the holidays, Draco went to his Potions Master's office every Monday and Thursday evening before dinner. Around the middle of May, Snape invited him to sit at his desk before they began their session.
"You're managing to mentally reject me now." Snape announced without preamble. "I can no longer reach your mind, which demonstrates your mental ability to use your brain to good effect."
Draco was taken aback by his words. He had thought that Snape had simply reduced the intensity of his intrusions in order to train him. He felt a brief pang of pride.
"I wanted to teach you how to push me away so that you could control your mind." Snape continued. "Meditation helps you become aware of your strengths. But a Legilimens -a good one, anyway- won't just get into your mind. He'll search, pushing you to your limits to find what he's looking for."
Draco shuddered slightly as he imagined such a scene and his proud smile vanished instantly.
"That's why the first quality of a good Occlumen is to not be one." Snape explained.
Draco frowned:
"Professor, I'm afraid I don't quite understand."
"Think about it, Draco." Snape replied, leaning back slightly on his desk, his fingers intertwined. His long black hair fell down like a veil. "If a Legilimens gets into your head and sees that you're pushing him away, that you're hiding a certain part of your memories, what will his reaction be?"
"To insist." Draco guessed, still a little confused. "To tire me out until I give in and he can access my memories."
He thought back to when he had fainted, when all his mental strength had been exhausted by the intrusions that had been too strong.
"Exactly." Snape said, his dark eyes fixed on the boy. "So what you have to do is make it look like you're not an Occlumen. You have to deliberately place memories of your own choosing, so that the Legilimens will not suspect anything."
"You mean I can... choose memories and thoughts? Move them around in my head?" asked Draco, stunned.
"That's exactly what I'm telling you. Now that you are aware of your mind and how to use it to ward off an attack, you can control it."
Draco took some time to consider this attractive alternative, under Snape's sharp gaze as he waited for a reaction.
If he could not only hide Granger and his memories of her, but also replace them with fakes, he was sure he could protect his confidential thoughts from a potential intruder. For the first time since March, Draco understood the value of his Occlumancy lessons. Now that he was in full possession of his own mind, he could shape it in his own way.
A smile must have appeared on his lips because Snape nodded and stood up, taking it as confirmation. Draco carefully rose as well and stood in front of his teacher, watching. He had no idea what was about to happen.
"Close your eyes." Snape ordered and Draco reluctantly did so, his fingers tightening around his wand.
A few seconds passed in which Draco could hear his heart beating against his eardrums, worried. He had no idea what Snape was going to do. He felt like an animal about to be killed. He awaited his punishment, agonising more and more with every second of prolonged silence.
He wanted to half-open one eye, just to see what Snape was going to do. Was he pointing his wand at him? Would he faint again from the force of the attack?
Then, Draco realised that Snape actually wanted him to meditate. It took all his will to calm down. He cleared his mind, as he had done every night for the past two months. He regulated his breathing. He relaxed his shoulders and his jaw.
Draco's mind was clear, empty. Once he had calmed down, it was easier to anticipate Snape's attack. It was as if he was prepared. But instead of the familiar Legilimency needle he had expected, it was a distant, guttural voice that spoke:
"Each Occlumen has a personal way of sorting their memories." Snape explained. "Some imagine boxes, trees, waves... Personally, I imagine rows of potion vials into which I pour my thoughts. It's up to you where you want to put yours."
Draco didn't have to think. An image appeared at the end of Snape's sentence. Dusty shelves full of battered books of all colours. In the middle of these shelves, if one ventured deep into the depths of the Library, one could find a round table for two, with a cup of tea, textbooks, feathers and a girl with curly hair.
"Did you find it?" asked Snape.
Draco nodded without speaking.
"Now, I want you to pick a memory, any memory."
Without knowing why, a specific image flashed through Draco's mind: Blaise, sprawled out on his dormitory bed, asleep against the page of his favourite Quidditch magazine. The memory was from the night before, when Draco had entered the dormitory and found Blaise like that.
"Remember where you were. The position you were in. Your thoughts as you experienced this moment. The smells, the sounds." Snape's voice continued, sounding farther and farther away.
Draco replayed the memory in his mind: he was standing, with his hand on the doorknob, his head turned to the right, where Blaise's bed was. His bed was, as usual, completely unmade, the green covers half falling to the floor. Draco could only hear the water of the Black Lake lapping against the window and Blaise's deep breathing. His cheek was pressed against the page of the Quidditch magazine, the one... The one with the latest England results. As Draco approached him, he could smell the cold, damp stone of the dormitory, and Blaise's, a fresh amber scent.
"Now that you've imagined it in its entirety, I want you to take this memory and store it in whatever form you choose."
Draco imagined the bookshelf. He chose the shelf to his left, the one with the most books. He chose a thick book with an orange cover. The title of the book was written in the middle of the cover: Blaise.
He opened the book. The pages were blank. Draco leafed through the thick volume to one of the last pages and quickly wrote down the memory as he had described it in his mind. Then he closed the book and put it back on the shelf, in the middle of a row.
When Draco opened his eyes, the office was much darker. Snape was back at his desk, watching him with a blank expression.
"I've put it away." Draco said simply. His voice was hoarse. He had no idea how long it had taken him to put the memory away.
"Good." Snape said. "Continue this exercise as soon as you can. Put away the memories you don't want others to see. The most compromising ones should be the ones buried deepest in your mind."
By 'compromising', Draco realised that Snape was referring to Granger. He nodded and left the study, muttering a goodbye. The corridor was pitch black. Draco hurried back to the Common Room, his head feeling strangely vaporous.
When he entered, he was not surprised to find a small group of students celebrating. Pansy was in the middle, as usual, with a drink in her hand. She was talking to a girl, unaware that Draco had entered the room. Absent-mindedly, she waved her wand to change the music.
Blaise was on the edge of the sofa, also sipping a drink. He was deep in conversation with Daphne, as he often was these days.
Draco preferred to go straight to the dormitory. When he entered, he was greeted by the same smells he remembered. But it wasn't Blaise in his bed, it was Theo in the bed to the left of Blaise. He was sitting up against the headboard, reading, a half-opened box of chocolates next to him.
When Draco entered, Theo glanced up at him furtively before returning to his page.
"Back from your tutoring?" he asked, plenty of sarcasm in his voice.
"Yeah." Draco replied, sitting down on his bed.
Theo made a strange sound, like he was clearing his throat. He didn't look at Draco and continued reading. Then he said reproachfully:
"Blaise brought you something to eat. It's on the desk, but it's probably cold."
Draco found a small plate of chicken breast and potatoes. He ate it without appetite, just to get something in his stomach. He was surprised to see that it was almost midnight.
Theo closed his book curtly and put it back in his little improvised bookcase, along with the box of chocolates that was almost finished. Then he sat cross-legged, staring at Draco from across the room:
"Are you going to tell me what the hell you were doing?" he asked coldly.
"No, I'm sorry. I can't tell you. But I will soon..."
Theo's mirthless laughter interrupted his sentence. He was clearly pissed off. He got up and locked himself in the bathroom. When he came out, his face was even more hostile than before.
Theo didn't say good night and closed the curtains on his bed with a wave of his wand. Draco said nothing, knowing that anything he said would only make him angrier. The prospect of knowing he could protect him was comforting.
Blaise and Pansy were always curious about what Draco did after school on Thursdays and now Mondays, but they didn't question him anymore. They knew Draco well enough to know that he wouldn't say anything unless he chose to. Theo had a harder time with this idea. He desperately wanted to know so that he could be included in the secret.
Draco washed quickly and got into bed with the curtains closed. But he wasn't going to sleep yet. He sat down and closed his eyes.
He meditated for a long time, putting Snape's advice into practice. He could almost hear Snape's deep voice giving him instructions. He returned to his bookshelf and analysed the shelves. He chose the one on the far right, filled with blue books.
He decided to start with Theo. As if sorting through his sensitive memories of him would somehow apologise for his behaviour over the last few months. He chose every moment, every secret, every expression. He captured all the moments with his best friend that he wanted to keep for himself.
His Muggle books, his different interests, the way he talked about Pansy when she did something wrong, the moment he had helped him write his letter to his father, their hugs, their secrets whispered in the dormitory at night, his tears, the few times he had mentioned his father.
The moment he had arrived through Blaise's chimney, covered in blood, was the hardest. Draco was constantly pulled back to the present because of the tears that threatened to fall. He recalled every detail of that terrible memory with horror. The fear on Pansy's face, the blood, the foul smell of Dittany Essence on his skin, the long white streaks down his torso, his eyes red from the smoke. He had to remember his own horror at seeing his friend die before his eyes. Then, he took the memory and put it in a separate book, with the deepest blue cover, and put it as far away as possible on the shelf.
He felt a sigh of relief escape him as he did so.
Draco finished putting away the moments with Theo that he wanted to keep private. He took all the sensitivity that was so characteristic of Theo and locked it away in a mental book. He kept only the studious, slightly reserved, different and sometimes irritating boy. When he had finished with the last compromising memory, the letter from his father announcing that he had been disowned by the Nott family, Draco looked at his bookshelf full of Theo and opened his eyes again.
Light filtered through his curtain. Blaise and Theo were pacing the room, getting ready for class. Draco rubbed his eyes and yawned, saying goodbye to his night's sleep.
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After this sleepless night, Draco could only look forward to meeting Granger in the Library that evening. The day dragged on with agonising slowness, and Draco struggled to keep his eyes open during Charms class. He ate as quickly as he could with Crabbe and Goyle (they were always first in the Great Hall) and watched as Granger sat at the Gryffindor table.
She was wearing her red cardigan, the one he liked. She had a few strands of hair pulled back and was eating while chatting with Potter and Weasley, as usual. Sometimes, Longbottom would join in. She finished her pudding extremely slowly (was the world against him that day?) and finally gave him a quick look as she got up to go to the Library.
Draco reflexively got up at the same time as her, ready to bolt.
"Where are you going?" asked Goyle's gravelly voice.
"I've finished eating." Draco said. "I'm going to sleep, I'm exhausted."
"Did you go to the party last night?" asked Goyle, who had decided to ask questions on the one day Draco didn't want them.
"Can I finish your panna cotta?" interjected Crabbe, pointing to Draco's untouched bowl.
"Er, yes, you could say that. And yes, help yourself..." said Draco, still watching Granger as she walked out the front door.
"We didn't see you though." Goyle continued.
"I was..." Draco focused on the two boys again, tearing himself out of his vision. Goyle was looking at him strangely, and Crabbe was halfway through his dessert. "I left the party early."
"Oh." said Goyle, his features distorted by the monstrous concentration his thoughts demanded of him. "And... where are the others? Nott, Pansy, Blaise?"
"No idea, maybe still in the Common Room. See you later!" yelled Draco, already moving away from the table.
He ran towards the exit, cursing through his teeth. That stupid Goyle had already cost him several precious minutes. Why was everyone blaming him these days? Theo was always sulking, Pansy and Blaise were talking to him less and less, and now even Goyle was getting into it! He just wanted an evening in his bubble, with Granger!
About halfway up the stairs, Draco stopped to calm down. He leaned back against the railing and closed his eyes, ignoring the curious looks of the students coming down. Pansy had told him countless times that he was in a foul mood when he was tired, and he didn't want to scare Granger away with his temper. He allowed himself a few seconds of meditation to clear his head.
Once he'd calmed down, he climbed the last few steps and turned into the Library corridor. He almost smiled in anticipation. It had been two days since he'd last spoken to Granger, but it felt like twelve. He was so looking forward to seeing her that it made him quicken his pace.
However, as he turned into the corridor, he bumped into someone violently, stopping him abruptly in his tracks.
"Fuck! Can't you watch where you're go..." began Draco, massaging his head.
But he stopped dead in his tracks when he realised who he'd bumped into. He had an imposing, stooped figure, and his face was marked by a severe contortion that did not bode well.
Viktor Krum.
Draco stepped back a little in shock, still massaging the skull he'd collided head-on with Krum, whose body was as hard as his face.
"You're Draco Malfoy, aren't you?" asked Krum in a gruff voice, that stood out due to his Nordic accent.
"Yes, I am."
As he said this, Draco straightened up, trying as hard as he could to be as tall as the Quidditch player. He had never seen him up close before. His scars were menacing, accentuating his already fierce features. He had seen hundreds of photographs of him over the years, but it was only now that he realised how young he really was.
The anger that had gripped him when he had watched Krum kiss Granger's hand, or make her dance, or talk to her under the tree outside, or watch her in the Library came rushing back, crushing his attempt at meditation of a few seconds before.
"I vanted to talk to you." the Bulgarian announced, without relaxing his face, which was as grim as ever.
"I'm listening." Draco said in a voice that he wanted to be calm and collected, but which turned out to be the opposite.
Krum moved to the right and Draco followed, leaning against the wall to show that this was his home and that it was Krum who had invaded his Castle.
"I vill get straight to the point." Krum said. "Herm-own-ninny told me you were friends."
Draco had two reactions: the first was to wince when he heard the massacre he had made by saying her first name, and the second was a little jump in his stomach when he heard that Granger had told Krum about him.
"She told you that?" he said, feigning indifference.
"Yes, and I vould like to know if you agree." Krum said, crossing his arms over his chest and waiting for an answer.
Draco was surprised by the question. He had never spoken so directly to anyone about his feelings and he certainly didn't want the first person to be Krum. But at the same time, he didn't want to confirm his theory, so he could feel free to go out with Granger. The thought made him clench his fist.
"What do you care?" he retorted.
Krum raised his thick eyebrows in surprise: he was obviously not used to being spoken to in that tone. But Draco had put aside his admiration for the Quidditch player and focused solely on the boy who was trying to steal his girl.
"I just vant to check that you consider her a friend too. Hermy-own tells me you spend a lot of time together, and I see you in the Library sometimes."
"We do." Draco said, surprised that Granger had told him the truth. "She helps me with my homework from time to time, nothing more."
It was a lie, but Draco didn't feel like telling him his biggest secret, risking the information spreading like wildfire around Hogwarts. He hoped Granger had insisted that she and Draco weren't supposed to be friends.
"Why are you asking me this?" asked Draco, no longer hiding the anger in his voice.
"I just vant to be sure that Hermione's friends are just friends, and not suitors." Krum explained.
Draco couldn't suppress a mocking chuckle.
"Suitors?" he repeated.
"Yes." Krum agreed, and the coldness of the word stopped Draco's laughter.
"What suitors?"
"She talks a lot about Harry Potter." Krum said defiantly, as if to prove that his fears were well founded.
Draco was relieved. He knew Potter was no longer a threat to Granger. He was angry with him -for many reasons-, but being one of her 'suitors' wasn't one of them.
"I see. Then you'll just have to ask him, if you're so worried." Draco said to end the odd conversation. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to study."
He gave Krum a light nudge as he passed. The Bulgarian turned his head towards him but said nothing. Draco was surprised at his own confidence, Krum was twice his size. It was probably resentment that made him act like that.
Draco walked towards the Library doors, but just before he entered he turned:
"Hey, Krum?"
Krum turned and looked confused.
"It's Hermione." Draco corrected dryly. "Not Hermy-own, or Herm-own-ninny, or whatever. Friendly advice: if you want to be one of her "suitors", at least learn how to pronounce her name properly."
And off he went to the Library.
.
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Hermione
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Draco arrived at the round table in the Library a few minutes after her. It had only been two days since she had seen him, or at least not really seen him, but she had the impression that it had been much longer. She watched him sit down with a small smile on her face.
She'd expected to hear his usual "Good evening, Granger", but instead he announced directly:
"Your boyfriend is worried."
Hermione frowned:
"Excuse me?" she asked.
Draco didn't take his things out of his bag, he just leaned back against the back of his chair, looking rather irritated. He crossed his arms and looked at her contemptuously:
"I just had a heated conversation with your boyfriend."
"Ron?" Hermione asked without thinking.
This seemed to upset Draco even more and he tensed a little more against his chair.
"No." he spat. "Though I'd like to avoid it too, if possible."
"What are you talking about?"
"Krum." he said harshly.
"Oh!"
Hermione hadn't even thought about that possibility. She imagined Krum talking to Draco, but the image wouldn't come, as if her brain couldn't face the possibility that these two people, so far apart in her life, had ever met.
Then, finally, Draco's insinuation reached her brain.
"Viktor is not my boyfriend!" she said a little too loudly.
"Because Weasley is?" he hissed through clenched teeth.
"No!" she shouted, already annoyed at the thought of having to explain her friendships yet again. "None of them is! Why on earth did Viktor come to see you?"
"Apparently, "he vanted to know if I vas one of your 'suitors'"" he said, imitating his Bulgarian accent.
"Oh no!" Hermione moaned. She felt her cheeks flush.
"Yes." Draco said coldly, unmoved by her distress. "Would you kindly tell your Viktor that we shouldn't be talking, that it's a secret, that it's dangerous, and that I'm risking a lot? And to stop intercepting me in the corridors to tell me about it? Oh, and if you don't mind, could you stop telling everyone that you "spend a lot of time with me in the Library?!""
"I didn't tell him, he found out by himself!" protested Hermione.
"Yes, because he's been stalking you like a maniac!" said Draco, suddenly losing his patience. "He follows you! He's always looking at you! He takes you on dates around the Lake..."
"... How do you know that..."
"... And he asks everyone around you if we're your suitors!" Draco continued. "This isn't the 18th century anymore, Granger, it's about time you told your Viktor to stop behaving like a fucking backward person!"
"He's just having a hard time adjusting to English culture, which is so different from his own!" snapped Hermione, staring into the tormented grey eyes in front of her. "If you weren't so closed-minded, you might understand!"
"I don't have to understand anything, it's none of my business!" Draco retorted, which stung Hermione painfully. "But now it is, apparently, because you told him we were friends, when I've told you fifty times that we can't be, because my family might find out and I might be disowned! It's bad enough seeing each other like this in the Library, but if all of Hogwarts finds out..."
"I told Viktor it was a secret, he won't repeat anything!" she shot back. "And he's leaving in less than two months, there's no risk of that. I'm being careful, unlike what you're implying!"
"If you're not, I'll have to stop coming, you know that, don't you?" urged Draco, more agitated than ever.
"I'll tell him not to talk to you again, and I'll remind him it's a secret, all right?" replied Hermione.
"All right." said Draco, even though he still sounded furious.
Hermione sighed and drank her cup of tea to pass the awkward moment. Then, she placed the cool palms of her hands against her cheeks to clear away the redness that must have invaded her cheeks.
"Why did he come and ask me that, anyway?" asked Draco, still annoyed, but a little curious.
"I don't know." Hermione admitted dryly.
"There must be a reason." Draco insisted, which annoyed Hermione even more. "He's come to ask me if I'm your suitor. He wants you to get together, or something...?"
"That's none of your business."
Draco was offended. He retorted immediately:
"I reckon it is my business when someone comes to me in the middle of a corridor..."
"Are you jealous?" cut in Hermione.
"What? No, no, I'm not." he said, a little too quickly for Hermione to understand exactly what he had just said, which was quite rare.
"Where do you go on Thursday nights? And why don't you come to the Library on Mondays anymore?" asked Hermione.
He rounded his eyes, surprised by the turn of the conversation.
"I can't tell you that."
"Yet I feel it is my business because we..." began Hermione.
"Oh, stop it!" exclaimed Draco, much too loudly for the Library. Hermione was suddenly panicked that someone was coming to find out where the noise was coming from. "Theo's already pissing me off with this, what I do on Thursday nights is none of your fucking concern, and neither is he, so leave me the fuck alone with it!"
"Then stop asking me about my relationship with Viktor, that's private!" retorted Hermione in the same tone.
"Fine!" snapped Draco, banging his fist against the table.
"Fine!" repeated Hermione, glowering.
And they began to work in silence, both ruminating on their anger, unable to concentrate.
.
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.
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Draco didn't return to the Library until Tuesday evening. He looked more rested, calmer, but he was still angry. He just said, "Good evening, Granger", and worked for two hours without saying a word.
Hermione was still upset too. She hadn't liked the way he'd gone at Viktor, and she wanted to give him a hard time. So they didn't talk on Wednesday either. Hermione had to stop herself from spilling her guts to him, but she didn't want to get into another argument in the Library, so she kept quiet.
She went to their bench both evenings, but he didn't come.
On Thursday, Hermione found herself watching Draco even more than usual. She blamed it on their fight. He came to breakfast with his hair a little more dishevelled than usual. She noticed he had fewer circles under his eyes than before. He ate with his friends without so much as a glance at her, then got up to go to class.
Gryffindors didn't share classes with Slytherins on Thursday mornings, so she didn't see him again until lunch. He spent it with Zabini, chatting from time to time, then Daphne Greengrass sat down next to them and took all of Zabini's attention while Draco continued to eat in silence. They only looked at each other once, but he looked away as soon as he caught sight of her.
In the afternoon, they shared lessons in Arithmancy and Defence Against the Dark Arts. That day, Moody gave them a study session on the Fumos spell that Draco had performed around their bench a week earlier. The classroom was soon filled with smoke. Draco never once turned his head towards her, when all she could think of was him, and his smoky grey eyes, and his hand against hers.
That night, after dinner, Hermione really wanted to talk to Draco. Maybe even apologise first, because it had been a stupid fight, and they'd gotten carried away over nothing. She hoped that whatever he had planned on Thursday nights, he'd cancelled it to spend the evening with her.
But the round table was empty, and Hermione spent the evening alone in the Library.
She tried to study Potions, but every sound startled her. She imagined every footstep as his. She wanted to hear him say "Good evening, Granger". But he didn't show.
A few minutes before the Library closed, Hermione walked up to Madam Pince's desk with a piece of parchment in her hand.
"Yes, Miss Granger?" the librarian asked when she saw her coming, in the friendliest tone she was capable of.
"I need a book to help me understand my Potions lessons, but I can't find it in the stacks." Hermione explained. "It's called "Mugwort and Asphodel"."
"It's in Potions class." Madam Pince informed her without a hint of hesitation. "In the left cupboard. If you want to go and get it, I can write you a note of permission."
Hermione nodded, wondering how this woman could know the exact location of this book. She took the note, thanked the librarian and stepped out into the corridor.
Instead of going straight back up to the Gryffindor Common Room on the seventh floor, Hermione went downstairs to the dungeons. She desperately needed that book to complete her studies before tomorrow's lesson. The corridors were deserted, and the dungeons even more terrifying than during the day. The atmosphere was chilling.
Hermione saw no one, except the ghost of Slytherin, who took no notice of her. She opened the Potions classroom and lit the end of her wand to see something, then went to the cupboard on the left.
Looking for the book, Hermione wondered what Draco could be doing on a Thursday night. He had to be on this floor. Perhaps it was a weekly meeting in his Common Room, like an extracurricular activity? Or was he studying with someone else? The thought made her stomach churn.
Finally finding the volume she was looking for, Hermione discreetly left the classroom. As she made her way back to the dungeons, she could have sworn she heard Snape's voice from behind one of the corridor doors. His deep voice was unmistakable. But Hermione couldn't make out where it was coming from or what he was saying, so she thought she must be tired and stopped looking.
She had almost reached the stairs when someone spoke behind her back.
"Hey! What the hell are you doing here?!"
Hermione was so surprised that she dropped her book and it fell to the floor. She picked it up and turned around. She sighed in exasperation as she realised that the person who had frightened her was none other than Crabbe, closely followed by Goyle. They were hidden by the darkness, but Hermione could see that both their wands were lit.
"I've come to collect a book." she said, showing it to them with an impatient gesture.
"You're on our territory!" shouted Goyle.
Hermione rolled her eyes:
"There is no "territory", I was just in the Potions class!"
"Dungeons aren't for Mudbloods like you!" retorted Crabbe, ignoring her remark.
The insult made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Even though she'd heard it many times before, she'd never been able to get used to it, and even though Crabbe and Goyle were as thick as bricks, she couldn't help but feel a pang of fear when she heard it. She hated feeling inferior just because of an insult.
"You really are as stupid as you both look." she said flatly.
Her mother had often told her that the best response to conflict was boredom. She put that advice into practice.
She watched the reaction of the two oafs, who took a few seconds to realise that what she had said was not a compliment, but an insult. Then she turned and started up the stairs.
"You shouldn't have said that!" one of them shouted behind her back. "Scalpere cutis!"
Hermione felt the spell open the skin on the back of her neck with alarming speed. She screamed in pain and brought an automatic hand to her neck, feeling blood trickle down her back.
She turned in shock towards the two boys, but just before she could shout at them, someone exclaimed at the end of the corridor:
"Expelliarmus!"
Crabbe and Goyle's wands leapt from their hands and landed in the hands of the approaching boy.
Despite the darkness, Hermione could easily make out Draco from a distance.
And he looked furious.