tw : death
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Draco
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"Shh, not too loud, he'll wake up!"
"Move to the left, Pansy!"
"Ouch! You stepped on my foot!"
"Stop it, both of you! You'll wake him up!
"Do you think he's naked?"
"I can hear you, you idiots..." snarled Draco in a sleepy voice. "And no, Theo, I'm not naked."
At that moment, the green curtains of his canopy bed opened wide, blinding Draco with light. He closed his eyes with a grunt as his friends shouted in unison:
"Happy birthday Draco!"
As on every one of his birthdays, his three best friends stood beside his bed with big smiles on their faces. This year, they had even added a little twist: little party hats on their heads. The image would have been hilarious in Draco's eyes, if his awakening hadn't been so rude.
"Every year... Every year I tell you not to wake me, and every year you find a way..." he began.
"Oh, give us a break!" exclaimed Pansy with a smile. "We know you love it!"
"Come on, Cranky!" called Blaise, throwing his shirt at him. "Hurry up and come to the Great Hall, your present is waiting for you!"
Draco grumbled again, this time with less gusto. He loved presents. Well, not the countless presents that littered the Manor every Christmas, but rather the personal gifts from his friends. They knew him well enough to know what he really wanted, every time.
Blaise, Pansy and Theo left the room for breakfast, leaving Draco to get dressed. He put on his uniform, washed and prepared his things for the day's lessons. When he saw the clock, another grunt escaped his lips: there were still two hours before classes started. They had decided to wish him an even earlier birthday than in previous years.
Draco entered the Great Hall and made his way to his usual seat. The four tables were almost empty due to the early hour. Of course, Granger was already there, sitting alone and, of course, she had a book in front of her eyes. When he entered, she discreetly looked up at him and quickly returned to her reading. Draco smiled slightly.
He sat down and knew immediately that something was suspicious. Pansy was holding back a smile, Theo was all stilted and Blaise was avoiding looking at him.
"What?" asked Draco doubtfully.
"Nothing." Blaise said immediately. "What do you want to eat? Toast? Porridge?"
"Er..."
"Coffee!" exclaimed Theo. "Coffee, of course, you always have coffee..."
Theo hastily poured him a cup of black coffee, under Draco's wary gaze.
"What's wrong with you? Why are you acting like this?" he asked.
"Like what? We're perfectly normal!" Theo protested.
"Theo, you've never served me coffee in the four years we've been friends."
"Then I guess I've changed." the boy replied evasively. "Drink up, drink up."
Draco took a sip of coffee, still confused. He tried to meet Pansy's gaze, but she seemed suddenly captivated by her bowl of porridge, a smile threatening to hollow out her porcelain face.
"So, fifteen years, eh?" Blaise said to start the conversation, which was very unnatural. "How does it feel?"
"Not much, it hasn't changed too much since yesterday... Merlin, what's the matter with you?!" Draco huffed impatiently as Theo laughed into his napkin.
"Nothing!"
Draco rolled his eyes and decided to eat. It had been a very strange start to the day.
As he ate breakfast, the Slytherins who sat down wished him a happy birthday. He thanked them all, except Crabbe and Goyle, who he ignored. He still couldn't get over the spell they'd cast on Granger's neck.
As the owls entered the Great Hall, Draco was not surprised to see that Ebony was the most heavily laden of them all. He placed a large parcel on the table, along with a letter from his mother. The owl pecked at a few crumbs of toast and hurried off for a well-earned nap.
The parcel was a huge confection of sweets, the chocolate of which made Theo's eyes sparkle. There were also some excellent new dragon skin gloves, a broom care kit and a subscription to a Quidditch magazine, which Blaise hastily took and leafed through. His mother's letter was short, wishing him a great day of festivities.
When he finished reading, Draco pushed the parcel away to continue his meal. But Pansy suddenly clapped her hands, startling Draco, and Theo offered with a squeak:
"Do you want your present now?"
"Your "present"?" repeated Draco, disappointed. "The three of you got together?"
"I'd like to remind you that I don't have any money left." Theo said, a little offended. "Blaise helped me pay."
"It was a pleasure." said Blaise, no longer able to hide his amusement.
Pansy bent down and pulled out a box she had hidden under the bench. It was white, plain, with a purple ribbon around it. She placed it on the table and pushed it towards Draco, her eyes gleaming with mischief.
"Here, and happy birthday again!" she announced.
Draco looked at his three friends in turn, as suspicious as ever. He noticed that most of the Slytherins around them had stopped eating to look at him as well.
"What have you..."
"Open it!" cried Theo, stamping his feet impatiently.
Draco relented. He cut the ribbon and carefully opened the lid of the box.
He had imagined many things. Since May he'd been talking about a certain model of broom, so that his friends would understand that this was what he wanted. Or a collection of Alchemy books from Flourish and Blotts that interested him. Or rings, or a feather...
Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw in the box.
It was some sort of beige fur in the corner of the white box. At first, Draco thought it was a sock with hair on it. Then he tilted his head a little more, and recoiled when he saw two ears and a snout.
He almost dropped the box in surprise. The beast was asleep, curled up in the corner of the box. As everyone around Draco burst out laughing, it opened one eye and he and Draco shared a look of surprise.
"A ferret?! You bought me a fucking ferret?!" he shouted in shock.
But it was no use: Theo, Blaise and Pansy were laughing too hard to hear what he was saying. Theo was crying from laughter on Blaise's shoulder, and Pansy, across from them, kept repeating "Your face! If you could have seen your face!"
Draco immediately understood the strange behaviour of the Slytherins. Almost everyone around him was laughing. He closed the box angrily, annoyed.
He made a cross on his broom of dreams.
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Before classes began, Pansy explained to Draco - between giggles - that they had actually "borrowed" a first year ferret, and that it would have to be returned. Draco was delighted: he had no desire to have a pet ferret. So, they met up with the first year who got her ferret back (Draco found out it was called Bobby, which caused another fit of giggles from Pansy).
Draco thought a birthday was a good reason to skip class, but Theo made him go, insisting it was important for exams. The joke continued all day. Blaise and Pansy spent the morning giggling, and even more during Defence Against the Dark Arts, when Moody explained that one of the best defences against attack was Transfiguration.
Even Draco laughed at dinner. He had to admit it was a good joke, even if he didn't like being made fun of like that.
When Crabbe and Goyle approached him, however, his smile immediately vanished.
"Draco... We wanted to talk to you... And give you this..." Goyle said hesitantly.
He handed him a poorly wrapped package.
"Get lost." Draco replied simply.
The two boys obeyed, confused, their shoulders slumped in disappointment. Theo turned to Draco, one eyebrow raised in wonder:
"Wow. What was that all about?"
"Nothing important." Draco said, taking another bite of his beef pie. "If I told you we were giving Crabbe and Goyle the cold shoulder, but I couldn't tell you why, would you go along with it?" he asked his friends.
"Absolutely." Blaise replied immediately. "No reason needed, by the way."
Theo and Pansy nodded vigorously.
They didn't mention Crabbe and Goyle again after that.
After dinner, Draco hurried to the Library. Some time ago, until last year, the idea of having his birthday party in the Library would have seemed completely insane. He would have much rather attended a huge party thrown by Pansy in his honour. But on this day, his heart was pounding as he crossed the bookshelves. When he saw that Granger was already there, waiting for him, he felt a shiver of happiness.
Between Potter training, Occlumancy sessions and exams, he and Granger had found it hard to spend evenings together. He felt as if he hadn't seen her in a very long time. He took a second to look at her: her hair was loose, surrounding her face like a halo. She was smiling, squinting, her cheeks dimpled. Her teeth were short, a change Draco always found hard not to notice.
"Happy birthday, Draco!" she said, and it was the best birthday wish anyone had ever given him in his life.
He would probably never get used to the way she pronounced his name. His stomach fluttered, his heart raced and a rush of warmth warmed his body.
Of course, he pretended it didn't affect him and took a seat across from her:
"I didn't think you knew the date." he said.
Granger rolled her eyes, as if the idea was particularly ridiculous.
"I know very well that your birthday is the 5th of June, how could I not notice your overloaded owl every year?"
"Ah, yes." he said with a smile. "Ebony always has to work on that day, my mother likes extravagant displays."
"Theo took all the chocolate, I suppose?" she said, not losing the smile that lit up her face so beautifully.
"Of course he did."
"And how's your ferret?" she asked, obviously trying not to burst out laughing herself.
Draco's smiling face fell at that.
"Ah. So you saw it, then." he guessed darkly.
"Do you mean the moment you opened the box, or the moment you ran to catch it in the Charms corridor?" asked Granger, with a falsely serious look on her face.
"You were watching me in the Great Hall?" he replied, both snidely and secretly pleased by the thought.
"It was hard not to look up when Parkinson's laughter echoed through the Hall..."
"Well, to answer your question, Bobby's fine." Draco said, watching Granger's eyebrows furrow.
"Bobby?"
"The ferret." he explained.
Granger understood and burst out laughing. It was a crystalline laugh, devoid of any mockery or sarcasm: a real laugh, natural, melodious, that seemed to seep into Draco's veins, who couldn't help but smile in return. The sound of Granger's laughter echoed off the shelves around them, in their bubble, and he was suddenly eager to capture it in his evening meditations.
"Bobby." she repeated after she had caught her breath.
"Bobby. He belongs to a first-year in Ravenclaw who kindly agreed to lend him to Pansy, Blaise and Theo for the morning."
"I see. So, you won't be coming home with a ferret this summer. What a pity." Granger said with a sigh.
"No, and that's a good thing, because I think my mum would probably faint." said Draco.
Granger laughed again. Out of reflex, she covered her mouth with her hand, still complexed by her overly long teeth that were no longer long. Draco noticed that she had been working on her Rune Studies lesson before he arrived. But before he could read the strange alphabet, she closed her textbook.
"To be honest, I didn't think you'd come tonight." Granger said, her gaze suddenly more enigmatic.
"Why wouldn't I?" he asked, surprised.
"I thought you'd be celebrating. Or spending the evening with your friends. Aren't they wondering where you've been since the beginning of the year?" she asked.
"No, they're used to me spending time alone." Draco replied with a shrug. He had been careful not to answer her first assumption.
"Oh, I see. They won't... Guess where you are, after a while?"
"No. They know I study, they know I go to the Library, or sometimes outside... They haven't asked me anything in a long time."
Granger nodded thoughtfully. Then, she drank a cup of her tea, but this time it wasn't cinnamon: her cup had a sweet scent of orange blossom.
"I have a present for you." she said, suddenly in a low voice.
She tried to sound detached, but Draco could read her embarrassment in the colour of her cheeks and the way her eyes looked everywhere but at him. Draco smiled a proud little smile:
"Really?"
"Yes... But I don't know..." she said more hesitantly, obviously questioning her gift.
"It'll still be better than the ferret." he said to encourage her.
"Oh no, it'll be hard to top that."
"You didn't have to give me a present. I haven't given you one this year."
Or ever, for that matter. Yet he knew the date, as if it had been etched somewhere in his memory since he found out she was born on the 19th of September. He even read his horoscope from time to time, over Pansy's shoulder, when he was bored in class.
"That's understandable, you weren't talking to me then." she remarked.
"I've been talking to you since our first year."
"You know what I mean." she said impatiently. "Since we've really been talking."
Draco wanted to ask her what she meant by that, just to hear her talk about the beginning of their "friendship", to hear her views on their strange rendezvous, which he secretly cherished. But before he could, Granger pulled a wrapped parcel from her bag and Draco fell silent.
It was a rectangular gift, like a book, but larger. It was carefully decorated, and the idea that Granger would secretly wrap him a gift in her Common Room in colours he liked was as odd as it was pleasing. He smiled just at the thought.
"Here. It's not much." she said hastily.
Draco disagreed. Without even having seen what it was, he was already over the moon. Special attention from Granger was more than he deserved.
He unwrapped the gift carefully, not wanting to damage the green wrapping paper. It was Muggle paper: there was no moving pattern on it, yet, it was the first wrapping paper Draco hadn't torn off the moment he received the package.
It was a notebook. At first, Draco thought it was a textbook for one of the classes he was struggling with. But when he saw how thin it was, he realised it wasn't.
"It's a notebook I made myself." Granger said, her cheeks flushing. "Open it."
Draco obeyed. Inside, Granger had "stapled" pages of Muggle paper. As soon as he saw them, he exclaimed:
"Sheet music!"
"Sheet music to all my favourite songs." Granger explained before quickly catching herself: "Well, of all the songs by famous Muggle composers..."
"Your favourites?" he asked, curious to hear the beginning of her sentence.
"Yes..." she admitted. "I thought you could do with some practice. I asked my father to send me my music notebooks and I copied the sheet music by hand."
"By hand?!" he repeated, transfixed.
He leafed through the scores and read a few titles, each written in a different ink. She had even added a few lines of explanation and context to each piece of music in her neat, round handwriting, which Draco had read hundreds of times thanks to her notes.
"Yes... Do you like it?" she asked anxiously. "I saw that your mother had sent you a Quidditch kit, so I thought I'd get you something related, but I don't know your taste in broomstick, or Quidditch for that matter, so I thought you might like the music, but of course if you don't like it, you don't have to..."
"Granger..." he interrupted, suddenly gripped by a wave of unfamiliar emotion. "I love it. It's a beautiful gift. Thank you, it means so much to me."
To underscore his words, or perhaps just as a gesture of spontaneous gratitude, he placed his hand on hers. The gesture surprised them both, but Draco didn't remove his hand: he ran his thumb over the back of Granger's hand, which was burning hot. She blushed up to her neck. But when she heard his confession, she relaxed and smiled again.
"That's good then." she said with relief. "Did you see I put in Für Elise? I know you say Beethoven was a wizard, and he was, I don't question that, but I think that score deserves first place, because it was the one that made us realise that the line between wizards and Muggles could be crossed..."
Granger then threw herself body and soul into a long explanation of each score, and Draco listened intently, a smile on his lips as he leafed through the best gift he'd ever been given in his life.
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"Draco? Can we talk to you?"
Draco sighed. He had intended to use his Friday lunch break to read his sheet music against a window in the Potions corridor, but he hadn't taken Crabbe and Goyle into account. Ever since Draco had decided not to speak to them a week earlier, they had followed him everywhere, desperate to talk to him. Clearly, Crabbe and Goyle were having trouble understanding the concept of ignorance.
"What?" he asked aggressively, closing the notebook with a loud "clack!"
Goyle sat down on the bench under the window Draco had occupied, while Crabbe remained standing, surveying the surroundings.
"We noticed you weren't talking to us anymore." Goyle began hesitantly.
"Ten points for Slytherin." Draco grumbled in response.
"And we wanted to know what we did wrong." Goyle continued, his brow furrowing from the effort of stringing two words together. "After all, you've always made fun of Granger, you've always insulted her, so we just did what you do, thinking you'd..."
He lost the thread of his sentence and his face took on a purplish hue. Draco sighed a second time.
Crabbe and Goyle were getting on his nerves, but he understood their confusion. Before, he would never have criticised their behaviour, but now he was doing just the opposite. He decided to put aside his ideas of bloody revenge and play the role they knew:
"No, no, no, you don't understand!" Draco exclaimed, trying to sound as friendly as possible. "I got angry on purpose because I knew Snape was coming! I want to be Prefect! I had to pretend to be outraged!"
He saw the change in understanding relax Goyle's face. Crabbe, for his part, asked:
"Then why have you given us the cold shoulder ever since?"
"Because I had to play the part and Snape believed it." Draco made up as he spoke.
It didn't take long to convince Crabbe and Goyle. They accepted the lie without question. They had always had blind faith in Draco. When their discussion was over, Draco stood up and warned them in a falsely friendly tone:
"But a word of advice... Avoid casting spells behind people's backs." he said, trying to hide his anger behind his calm voice. "Especially Granger."
"Why?" they asked in surprise.
"Because... You could get into trouble." he said with a hint of menace.
Crabbe was about to reply, but was interrupted by the piercing voice of Pansy running down the corridor:
"Draco! There you are! I've been looking all over for you!"
Draco sighed for the umpteenth time. So he wouldn't get a chance to read in peace in this fucking Castle.
Pansy came panting up to him. The ribbon that held her hair elegantly was completely askew.
"I've been looking for you for an hour!" she squeaked.
"Why?" he asked.
"Could you do me a favour?" she asked, catching her breath.
"Of course." Draco replied without hesitation. "What do you need?"
"What are you doing with them?" she asked, pointing at Crabbe and Goyle without looking at them. "I thought we weren't talking to them anymore?"
"Case closed." Draco said simply.
"Right... It's for the best anyway, I'm going to need you too." Pansy said to the two boys.
Out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw Crabbe and Goyle go from surprise to pride. Draco suspected that Crabbe had a crush on Pansy, even though she never spoke to them.
"Come, I'll show you!" she announced hurriedly.
She started off in the other direction, half running. Draco followed at the same frenetic pace.
"Where are we going?" he asked, still confused.
"Remember when I helped Skeeter write the Granger article?" asked Pansy as they walked.
"Yeah?" he said, a little too snidely.
"She asked me to give her some new information for an article that's coming out on the Third Task day. And she asked me if anyone else could talk about it, give some juicy scoops..."
"About Granger?!" exclaimed Draco, stopping dead in his tracks. "No, no way. Fuck, Pansy! How can you..."
"Relax, Draco!" she said in an exasperated tone, grabbing the sleeve of his cloak to keep him going. "The article isn't about Granger! It's about Potter!"
Draco let out a small sigh of relief. The last thing Granger needed on top of the stress of exams and her precious Potter's Third Task was another slanderous article.
Realising that he had spoken a little too loudly, he glanced back to make sure that Crabbe and Goyle hadn't overheard him defending Granger again. Fortunately, they were too far behind, struggling to keep up with Pansy and Draco.
Pansy opened one of the doors leading to the Transfiguration courtyard. Draco knew it well, it was where Pansy went for her 'cigarette breaks'. But instead of going to the bench she usually sat on, she went straight to one of the most imposing trees in the courtyard.
"I thought Skeeter was banned from Hogwarts?" said Draco, still not understanding Pansy's plan.
She had that gleam of mischief in her eyes that usually meant nothing good.
"She still is. She's managed to find a way to keep writing despite Dumbledore's ban..."
Draco frowned. Granger was right, Skeeter was really using illegal means to interview those she was interested in. He felt a thrill of pleasure at the idea of knowing her secret before Granger did, and at the same time a little stress at the idea that she might be angry with him for talking to the journalist.
Pansy finally stopped in front of the trunk. Crabbe and Goyle arrived panting shortly after.
"Now, listen to me." Pansy said, suddenly filled with a disconcerting authority. "I told Skeeter I'd help her write her article, and she told me her secret. You are forbidden to reveal it, to anyone. None of you. Is that clear?"
She raised a threatening finger at them, then turned her sternest gaze on each of the three boys. Draco had the feeling she was addressing him rather than Crabbe and Goyle. Perhaps she knew that Granger wanted to know Skeeter's secret.
"I promise." he said reluctantly. Now he had to keep quiet.
Pansy seemed satisfied. She dropped her authoritative look and smiled with all her teeth. Draco was used to such drastic changes in expression, but he could see that Crabbe and Goyle were lost.
"Very well." Pansy announced theatrically. "So... there she is!"
She pointed triumphantly at the tree trunk with both arms. Draco looked at what she was indicating without understanding. It was simply an oak, with rather thick bark and a few pieces of dark moss. Draco raised his eyebrows.
"Is Skeeter a tree trunk?" asked Crabbe, as confused as he was.
"Of course not!" said Pansy, still smiling. "That's her, there!"
Draco stepped closer and finally saw what Pansy was showing him. What he had thought was black foam was actually a large beetle.
He might have thought his best friend had officially lost her mind, comparing her idol to an insect, until he spotted two round marks on the beetle's head that immediately reminded him of Skeeter's jewelled glasses.
"An Animagus?" guessed Draco, stunned.
"Yes, but she's not on the list of declared Animagus, which is why you can't tell anyone." Pansy continued in an excited whisper. "She said that, as an avid reader and fan of her work, I had a right to know her secret. That's how I told her what I thought of Granger, back in March! And now that she's writing an article about Potter, she asked me if I knew anyone who would be willing to tell her about him, and I thought of you!"
Proud of her idea, Pansy smiled broadly. Draco had rarely seen her this happy.
"What should I tell her?" he asked, a little unsure.
He wasn't as excited as Pansy about the idea of talking about Potter behind his back. Not because he felt sorry for the boy, annoying Potter was always one of his favourite pastimes, but because he kept seeing Granger's discomfited face in his head.
"The article will focus on the fact that Potter has gone mad." Pansy summed up, unmoved by Potter's plight. "Rita saw him coming out of Divination class after his nightmare. She wants to insist that he's too unstable to take part in the Tournament."
Draco, still hesitant, dug into his memory to think of a time when Potter had gone berserk. It was easy to come up with, because Potter had gone berserk a lot.
He looked at the beetle. Like that, it was hard to imagine that he was talking to a journalist.
"So?" urged Pansy. "Have you found something to say to her?"
Draco remembered the promise he'd made to himself one night in his first year. "I promise myself that Harry Potter will be my enemy." Back then, the chance to humiliate Potter in a newspaper would have been bread and butter. He had to keep his promise.
As he made his decision, another, much more recent promise resurfaced in his mind. "I promise I'll make Hermione Granger suffer. Worse than that, I promise I will destroy her." He shook his head, pushing the memory as far back into the layers of his brain as he could.
He approached the trunk and hesitantly raised his hand. The beetle flew up and landed in the palm of his hand.
"Crabbe, Goyle, keep watch here, I'm going to the other side of the tree! No one must hear!" ordered Pansy.
Draco put his hand to his mouth and covered it with his other hand so that Skeeter could hear everything he had to say.
"Two years ago," Draco began uncertainly, "I was challenged to a duel against Potter at a dueling club organised by our Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. When he saw that I won -hands down- he got carried away. He pulled a snake out of his wand, even though it was against the rules!"
The beetle had no reaction to show that it had heard his story. Draco moved his hand closer.
"The snake approached a student. And then, as if driven by sheer madness, Potter began to speak Parseltongue!"
The beetle suddenly vibrated in his hand, its antennae quivering against his closed fingers. This news seemed to please Rita Skeeter.
Draco tried to recall other details. He remembered Theo teaching him what Parseltongue was after they had seen Potter speak it in the middle of the Great Hall.
"He didn't even know Parseltongue, he's from a Muggle family!" Draco recalled. "That was the day I realised Potter was a bit of a weirdo. He's always been a bit odd. I think he wants the most power, behind his fallen hero exterior. He wants attention. That's why he keeps getting himself into more dangerous situations than the last: entering the Tournament, befriending half-giants and werewolves, wanting to take on Sirius Black alone...".
As he told the story, Draco was caught up in a wave of anger and resentment towards his enemy that made him speak faster and faster. Since he had started meditating, it was rare for him to feel these fits of rage, but now that he remembered what Potter had done, it was difficult to control. He finished his story. Then, at the end, he muttered:
"Well, I think I've said it all... And, Madam Skeeter, would it be possible not to quote me in your article? I'd prefer to remain anonymous, please."
The beetle's wings unfolded slightly, which Draco took as a positive response. He closed his fist and placed the insect discreetly on the trunk, then returned to Pansy, a ball of stress contracting painfully in his stomach.
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Hermione
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"You're doing really well, Harry." Hermione encouraged with a smile.
Her best friend returned the smile from across the room where they were practising during their lunch break. Harry was now able to perform the Impediment Jinx, the Reductor Curse and the Four-Point Spell to help him find his way around perfectly. Hermione went back to her list of learned spells and counted the ones he still had to master before the Third Task.
"Hey, come and have a look!" called Ron, who was standing by the window. "Look at Malfoy, what is he doing?"
Hermione felt a stupid flutter when she heard the name. Curious, she quickly approached the window, followed by Harry.
Draco was away from the other students, under a tree. Crabbe and Goyle were there too, a few feet away from him, as if watching their surroundings. Hermione watched Draco more closely: his head was bent in his hand and his lips were moving quickly.
"Sounds like he's talking into a walkie-talkie." Harry analysed.
"Impossible." Hermione cut in at once. "I told you, that kind of device can't work at Hogwarts."
She surveyed the strange scene once more. What could Draco be up to? She decided to ask him as soon as she saw him in the Library. She looked away from the window and saw that Ron and Harry were still staring at the blonde in fascination. She didn't like that very much.
"Come on, Harry." she said abruptly, leading him to a desk. "Let's try the Shield Charm again."
He was soon preoccupied with Hermione casting spells to crack the shield around him. Ron, on the other hand, returned to his reading of "Which Charms to Use When Encountering a Ferocious Monster?"
But Hermione was still thinking about Draco talking into his hand, not understanding the meaning of this very strange behaviour.
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But Hermione never had the chance to talk to Draco about it again. The exams were coming up and they didn't see each other for the whole weekend before the exams started. On Monday morning, Hermione wasn't thinking about Skeeter, or Malfoy, or Harry's training: she was only concentrating on the tests.
Fortunately, she was happy with her work. On Monday, she started the Arithmancy test, which turned out to be much easier than she had imagined. She filled in the chart quickly, made the correct calculations and even added an extra prediction in the time she had left: "It will rain when Death strikes."
The rest of the tests went just as well. She was moderately pleased with her Transfiguration result, as her mug was a little too grey for her liking, but she still got a confident smile from McGonagall.
Every night of the week, Hermione received a letter of encouragement from her parents. She replied to each one, telling them in detail about each exam.
On Thursday evening, Hermione was tempted to go to the Library to study. She hadn't been there for days because she'd been giving last-minute study sessions to the Gryffindors in the Common Room. But she remembered bitterly that Draco was taking Alchemy on Thursday night, so he wouldn't be at their table.
So the next day was the last day of exams and also the day of the Third Task. At breakfast, Harry seemed much calmer than during the last two tasks. He also ate, which was a good sign. Hermione, on the other hand, was noticeably stressed, as she had been every day since the exams began.
She was rereading her History of Magic lesson, the first exam of the day, when the owls burst into the Great Hall. She pushed her scrolls aside in time for the owl to drop the Daily Prophet. Hermione stroked the owl's head, unfolded the paper and half choked on her pumpkin juice when she saw the first page. She closed it roughly as Ron patted her back.
"What's wrong?" the boys asked.
"Nothing."
Ron snatched the paper out of her hand before she could put it down. She glared at him, but he didn't see it and unfolded the paper too. Like her, he rolled his eyes:
"Oh no, not today! That old cow!"
"What?" asked Harry. "Rita Skeeter again?"
"No." lied Ron, suddenly a little red.
"It's about me, isn't it?" asked Harry, trying to snatch the paper out of Ron's hands.
"No." Ron repeated.
"Hey, Potter!"
Hermione looked up at the same time as the other Gryffindors. She was surprised to see Draco holding the newspaper in his hands, next to a hilarious Crabbe and Goyle.
"Potter!" he called, clearly pleased. "How's your head? Are you feeling all right? You're not having a seizure, are you?"
Hermione was taken aback by his words. She didn't recognise Draco at all in this despicable boy. His features were twisted and distorted and his usually gentle smile had become a mocking grimace.
Ron had to hand Harry the paper. He put it on the table for the three of them to read, which Hermione did reluctantly.
The article was mainly about Harry's supposed madness. Hermione rolled her eyes several times as she read it. It was, as usual, a slanderous article against him, probably rewritten with Skeeter's Quick-Quotes Quill distorting everything.
Two sentences caught Hermione's eye:
"On Monday last, midway through a Divination lesson, your Daily Prophet reporter witnessed Potter storming from the class, claiming that his scar was hurting too badly to continue studying."
"Potter can speak Parseltongue," reveals Draco Malfoy, a Hogwarts fourth year. "There were a lot of attacks on students a couple of years ago, and most people thought Potter was behind them after they saw him lose his temper at a dueling club and set a snake on another boy. It was all hushed up, though. But he's made friends with werewolves and giants too. We think he'd do anything for a bit of power."
Hermione was furious with Draco, but also intrigued. How could Rita Skeeter know about the Divination class? Had Parkinson told her?
As Ron and Harry continued their reading, Hermione considered her theories. She had no idea how Skeeter had done it. Without thinking, she looked up and met Draco's eyes across the room. Crabbe and Goyle were smiling next to him. He wasn't smiling, it was as if he was... begging her without a word.
"Gone off me a bit, hasn't she?" Harry commented lightly as he folded the paper.
Crabbe and Goyle had started to make faces at him, but Harry ignored them. Draco just continued with his breakfast.
"How did she know your scar hurt during Divination class?" asked Ron, asking aloud the questions that were swirling in Hermione's head. "She couldn't have been there, she couldn't have heard..."
"The window was open." said Harry. "I opened it to breathe."
"You were at the top of the North Tower!" said Hermione. "Your voice couldn't have carried down to the grounds!"
"You're the one who's supposed to be researching magical methods of bugging!" retorted Harry, as if irritated that his explanation was being questioned. "You tell me how she did it!"
"I've been trying!" Hermione asserted. "But I... but..."
Suddenly a word Harry had just said repeated itself in her mind. Bugging.
A bug. That's what Rita Skeeter was.
And what if she really was?
It all added up. Hermione thought back to the strange scene under the oak in the Transfiguration Courtyard. Draco talking to his hand...
Another image flashed through her mind: Viktor, brushing an insect out of her hair after the second Task...
"Are you all right?" worried Ron.
"Yes..." Hermione replied breathlessly.
She had studied all the theories about changing size. How could Skeeter have heard her talking to Viktor on the platform? She had to be small... or change her appearance... What if Rita Skeeter could do both?
"I just had an idea..." she murmured. "I think I know... Because no one could have seen it... Not even Moody... And she could have stood on the windowsill... But she has no right... she has absolutely no right... I think we've got her! I'm going to the Library!"
She rose quickly from the bench, picked up her bag and looked at the Slytherin table. Draco was gone. She ran out the front door and up the stairs to the Library, two at a time. She only had about ten minutes before the History of Magic exam started... She prayed that Draco was already in the Library...
She ran into the huge room. Madam Pince's stern voice behind her stopped her:
"No running in the Library!"
Hermione obeyed and slowed her pace. She skirted the shelves, following the path she had memorised to find the Library table. She was sure that Draco would be waiting for her to tell him about her discovery.
She cursed through her teeth as she found herself standing in front of the empty table.
She desperately needed to talk to Draco to confirm her theory. She had to know if she was right. And she needed to be able to get angry at him for revealing Harry's private information to the most despicable woman she had ever met.
Frustrated, she kicked the leg of the table. Then, she opened her bag, tore a piece of parchment from one of her study sheets, took a Muggle pen and wrote quickly:
"SK - Animagus? Need to talk to you - meet here tonight."
She folded the parchment and placed it on Draco's chair. Then she walked back to the entrance of the Library and hurried to class.
.
.
Draco
.
.
With the exception of Astronomy, Draco passed all of his exams. It had to be said that he had never worked so hard since that year.
Theo was in a terrible state during the week, as he was every year. He would study late into the night and wake up with blue bags under his eyes. At night, Draco could even hear him reciting incantations in his sleep.
On Friday morning, the day of the Third Task, Draco knew the article would be published. Still, he watched the owls land with his stomach as tight as ever. Crabbe and Goyle smiled mockingly, and Pansy exclaimed with delight, even though her name was not on the article.
Theo let out a dramatic exclamation as he read it. Draco didn't look at it; he knew it was mostly lies made up by Skeeter. He did, however, see his first name and felt a surge of anger at the journalist for not respecting his wishes.
Seeing Potter's expression was thrilling. No matter what happened to Granger, he would never stop hating the boy. But the pain in Granger's eyes prevented him from enjoying it. He laughed at Potter, but it wasn't real. He no longer felt the same satisfaction.
He fled from the Slytherin table as soon as the trio discovered the article. He didn't want to see the betrayal on Granger's face. Using the excuse of some last-minute studying, he sat in front of the Transfiguration class early.
As the day wore on, the guilt evaporated. He was soon caught up in the excitement of the students for the Third Task.
As soon as the exams were officially over and they took their seats at the feast in the Great Hall, Blaise hurried back to the bet:
"I'll remind you of your wagers." he announced with unflinching seriousness. "Pans' and Daph', you have 10 Galleons on Delacour. Do you want to change?" he said with a little smile.
"No!" the girls replied. "We still believe in her."
"At your peril." replied Blaise, amused. "Draco, you're still on Diggory, 10 Galleons. Me, I'm on Krum, 10 Galleons, and I'll even add another 10 Galleons to the stake." he said, encouraged by the "oooohhh" from the surrounding Slytherins. "Theo, are you sure you don't want to place one last bet?"
"No, thanks." replied Theo, who was eating and reading a book at the same time, a complicated task that resulted in him getting tomato sauce all over him.
"Very well, as you wish." said Blaise. "Does anyone wish to place a final bet?" he asked, addressing the rest of the table.
His voice was loud enough to interest the students a little further away. Blaise wrote down several bets in his notebook to keep track, encouraging the Slytherins to raise their stakes each time. When Crabbe timidly offered to join in, Theo gave him a dark look that stopped him. It seemed they still had debts to pay.
"Anyone else?" Blaise asked the assembly once his notebook was scribbled over. "Very well then. May the best man win!" he said, loud enough to hope that Krum could hear him.
Unfortunately, the Bulgarian continued to eat alone, paying no attention to them.
As the sky above the Great Hall darkened, revealing hundreds of stars above their heads, Dumbledore rose and announced:
"Ladies and gentlemen, in five minutes I will ask you to make your way to the Quidditch pitch to watch the Third and Final Task of the Triwizard Tournament. Will the champions please follow Mr Bagman down to the stadium?"
Potter rose to his feet, cheered on by the Gryffindor table. The families of the Champions had been invited, which for Potter meant the Weasley family, as he didn't have any of his own. As Draco watched Mother Weasley pat him on the back to comfort him, he wondered if she'd changed her mind about Granger after sending her that ridiculous Easter egg.
Five minutes later, everyone was up, their bellies full of a delicious feast. Draco watched as Granger made her way to the Quidditch pitch, nervous but less so than usual. She even smiled at one of the countless Weasley brothers, a tall, long-haired one Draco didn't know.
All the way there, Blaise was extolling the virtues of Krum. Draco decided not to listen.
They arrived at the Quidditch pitch and Draco realised that Bagman knew little about the organisation of his own Tournament, because the towers were unoccupied. Instead, stands surrounded the entrance to a maze of impressive hedges. Draco took his place in the green Slytherin stand. From where he stood, between Blaise and Pansy, he had a perfect view of Granger sitting on the opposite platform, the Gryffindors'.
It was dark, a first for a Task. The added atmosphere was electrifying. For the first time since the Tournament began, Draco felt a sense of excitement. He was even encouraged by the applause of the crowd, and began to cheer loudly for Diggory when he was called upon.
The professors, who would surely be patrolling the maze during the Task, were chatting quietly with the Champions. Draco looked at Granger. She was already looking at him. There was no smile on her face, just deep concentration. As they looked at each other across the patch of grass, there was no particular expression on her face, but it was enough to send a jolt of electricity through Draco's body.
"Whose stupid idea was it to invite the school band?" complained Theo, pointing to a group of students under their stand.
"I have no idea." Pansy admitted. "It might add a bit of ambiance..."
As she spoke, the band began their first piece of music. By music, Draco meant a series of deafening sounds. All the Slytherins instinctively covered their ears and screamed in surprise.
"Don't tell me they're going to do that for the whole task?" exclaimed Blaise.
"I'm afraid so, they seem to be quite comfortable!" Theo replied, pointing to one of the Hufflepuff students with a sousaphone between his knees.
The noise from all these instruments at once soon became unbearable. They had to wait about ten minutes before the "music" stopped and Draco could remove his hands from covering his ears.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the Third and Final Task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin!" the amplified voice of Ludo Bagman announced. "Let me remind you how the points currently stand! Tied in first place, with eighty-five points each : Mr Cedric Diggory and Mr Harry Potter, both from Hogwarts School!
Draco applauded, but for Diggory, of course. He saw Granger jumping up and down on the stand, cheering for Potter. Longbottom and Weasley were holding a banner with an ugly lion's head to cheer him on.
"In third place with eighty points: Mr Viktor Krum, of Durmstrang Institute!"
Granger clapped a little more timidly, under Weasley's dark gaze.
"And in fourth place: Miss Fleur Delacour, of Beauxbatons Academy!"
Delacour curtsied elegantly.
"So... on my whistle, Harry and Cedric!" Bagman continued. "Three... two... one..."
A whistle blew and Potter and Diggory burst into the maze. Immediately their silhouettes disappeared in the darkness and it was impossible to make them out.
After several minutes, Ludo Bagman whistled again and Krum stepped forward, his face frozen and hard. He didn't look at the audience and entered the maze with his shoulders hunched. Blaise shouted into Draco's right ear, while he secretly prayed that Krum would be eaten by one of Hagrid's Blast-Ended Skrewts.
Delacour was the last to enter, more gracefully than the previous three Champions. Pansy applauded enthusiastically.
Then the lawn fell silent. For a few seconds, no one dared speak, as if afraid to distract the Champions inside. Then, Blaise leaned over to say something in Draco's ear, and Draco was concentrating on his sentence when...
"OH NO!" cried Theo.
The music band had resumed its cacophony. Draco had an instant headache, made worse when one of the students banged his cymbal against the wood of the platform. He wished he'd brought his earmuffs from Herbology.
Granger was focused as if she were the one in the maze, not Potter. She spoke to Weasley in a low voice as she scanned the hedges, following the contours with her finger in the air. She was not disturbed by the fanfare, or perhaps her concentration prevented her from hearing it.
Nothing happened for a long time. The Slytherins began a conversation, and everyone quickly lost interest in the maze, from which no sound or light escaped.
After a while, several of the teachers hurried along the hedges, wands in hand.
"It's Fleur, isn't it?" asked Pansy.
No one could answer her. It was many minutes before someone emerged from the maze and Draco recognised her powder-blue outfit. It was indeed Fleur, and she looked dazed. McGonagall and Madam Maxime helped her to walk and then led her to a stage with the other Beauxbatons students. The Slytherins were too far away to hear them, but they saw Fleur shake her head, her face streaked with tears.
"Miss Delacour is out of the competition after receiving a spell." Bagman said.
"That's a bit vague." Daphne pointed out to Blaise's left. "Aren't we allowed to know what spell?"
"It doesn't change the fact that you've just lost ten Galleons, Daphn'." Blaise said, pleased.
Daphne and Pansy pouted.
A few minutes later, a shower of red sparks burst over the hedges, startling Theo. As a team went to fetch the disqualified contestant, Blaise whispered:
"Potter."
But it wasn't Potter. It was Krum. He was lying on a stretcher, his eyes closed, his wand still clenched in his fist. Seeing this, the Slytherins let out an exclamation of disappointment, but nothing was louder than Blaise's genuine cry of distress:
"NO! NO! KRUM!"
"20 Galleons, right?" asked Theo with an amused smile.
Blaise leaned his head against Daphne's shoulder and muttered. Draco smiled: both at his best friend's disproportionate reaction, and because he was very happy about this turn of events.
Granger, for her part, was torn. She was still holding the banner for Potter, but her eyes were fixed on Krum's stretcher, concern written all over her features.
Krum was taken to the Hospital Wing and Bagman announced his disqualification (Draco could have sworn he heard a small sob to his left).
Then, nothing happened.
The wait was interminable, even more so than the second Task. Pansy offered them several packets of sweets and chocolates to pass the time. Theo had taken out a book. Even the band had stopped playing, much to the delight of Draco's bruised eardrums.
Pansy ended up looking at the stars and Draco did the same. They talked about anything and everything. They nibbled chocolate. And from time to time, he glanced at his Gryffindor, who had also sat down and was talking to Weaslette.
After a -very long- moment, Blaise asked:
"Don't you think the teachers are getting a bit impatient?"
Draco looked in the direction he was pointing. Dumbledore was standing there, his eyebrows furrowed. McGonagall had returned and was talking hurriedly to someone, looking a little panicked. Moody and Hagrid were still patrolling the maze. The relaxed atmosphere in the audience suddenly became more eager. Draco could hear murmurs of "What's going on?" "Has anyone been hurt?"
He frowned. If anything had happened to Diggory or Potter, they would have heard it or seen sparks. It had been a long time, but maybe they'd just got lost?
McGonagall turned and walked quickly to the left of the maze, her wand lit. She looked worried. Snape moved suddenly, and as Draco's eyes fell on him, he saw him go the other way, his arm pressed to his chest as if he'd been injured.
Draco felt an uncomfortable shiver run down his spine.
Everyone was still talking quietly, carefree. Daphne was telling Pansy something and their laughter echoed around them. Theo was still reading, not paying the slightest attention to the teachers.
But Draco, without knowing why, had a bad feeling.
The minutes passed as slowly as they possibly could. All of Draco's senses were alert, but he had no idea why. No one else seemed to feel as he did. Yet, his muscles remained inflexible and the fear slowly consumed his mind.
Suddenly, in the middle of the lawn, with a loud "BOOM" that cut through all the low voiced conversation, a flash of light flashed out and two people landed hard. Draco instantly recognised the frail body of Potter, whose red and black T-shirt was torn to shreds, and Diggory, who was lying on the ground.
The entire crowd gasped and screamed, some in joy, others in disappointment. Everyone in the stands stood up and applauded, commenting on the arrival of Potter and Diggory to their friends, and the fanfare continued with joy and applause.
But Draco could see that Potter was injured. His leg was at an odd angle and he was bleeding through the tear in his shirt. He was still clutching the Trophy and Diggory wasn't moving, as if frozen...
Draco realised a second before the others. He didn't stand up like his classmates to applaud Diggory or celebrate Hogwarts' victory.
He froze in horror.
He stared at Cedric Diggory's body, his face livid, and it was as if all the blood had drained from his head, as if an icy wind had frozen him in place.
In the next second, which seemed like an eternity, the students understood. The people around Draco were struck by the same numbness as he was. The band suddenly stopped playing. Pansy let out a shrill scream, Delacour too, Theo shouted a vulgar word.
And while everyone was looking at Diggory's lifeless body, when all eyes were on Potter, Draco's body reacted on its own, beyond his control, as if one last reflex overcame his stupor, and he turned to Hermione, and saw her face frozen in horror.
.
.
Hermione
.
.
Hermione's first thought as she saw Harry and Cedric arrive on the pitch was, "They both deserved to win."
She instinctively jumped for joy, a smile on her face. Harry, the winner! She could never have imagined that he would win, it had never even occurred to her. But the prospect of Harry's hard work paying off was overwhelming and she couldn't stop smiling and shouting. She barely felt the tiny raindrops on her forehead, barely heard the exclamations of the twins beside her.
But then she noticed something strange. Why wasn't Harry up yet? Why wasn't he holding up the Trophy?
At first, she thought he was injured. Only then did she notice that Cedric hadn't moved. His eyes were open, but glassy, and his body was perfectly still.
A second thought crossed her mind: "He's dead."
Without realising it, she put her hands to her mouth to stifle the terrified scream that never came. Harry's body was convulsing, from cold, pain or tears, she couldn't tell. Ron understood as she did. He dropped his banner and it fell to the ground. She heard him catch his breath.
A third, almost childish thought flashed through her frightened brain. She wanted her mum to be there. To hold her in her arms.
Hermione had never seen death so close. She could almost feel it in the air, or taste it in her mouth. She didn't even feel the fear she thought she would, she just felt her head empty, her heart stop. She watched Harry crying against Cedric Diggory's body with all his last strength, powerless to do anything, the feeling of helplessness overwhelming everything else. It was the worst scene she had ever seen in her life.
Ron's hand found hers and squeezed it. She hadn't noticed that she'd let her arms fall to her sides. It was the warmth of Ron's palm that brought her out of her trance. It was as if he'd revived her with an electric shock.
"Harry! HARRY!" she screamed.
She pushed aside all the people on the platform who were blocking her from the exit. She had not let go of Ron's hand. He followed her closely, with the same vigour as her, but without a word, as if he was too shocked to regain the use of speech. She used her other arm to make her way through the stands.
"Harry! Harry!" she kept shouting, not stopping, as if he could hear her over the din, as if calling out to him might ease the pain he must be feeling right now.
She watched as Dumbledore grabbed him and turned him onto his back. He shook him as if he were unconscious. Hermione pushed a student out of the way and tumbled down the stairs at full speed.
"Merlin, Diggory!" cried Fudge, who was also leaning against Dumbledore. "Dumbledore, he's dead!"
The word rang out and was repeated amid frightened shouts. Hermione could hear the people around her bursting into tears, but she didn't let them break her concentration, she remained focused on her goal: to find Harry, to find Harry, to find Harry...
There were only a few more steps to go. Hermione barely looked where she was going, panicked glances going in the direction of her best friend. He was on his feet now, but staggering. His leg hurt and when she looked down she saw that he was bleeding. A cold fear gripped her head. He was hurt.
She jumped off the platform and landed on the grass, Ron still behind her. Several people had climbed down from the stands and it was difficult to see anything in the crowd of terrified people. When she tried to look over, Harry was gone.
"Harry! Harry! Where's Harry?"
A man had knelt beside Cedric and was screaming in tears. Agony shone through his pleading cry. Dumbledore had his back to Hermione and was talking to an livid witch. Hermione realised it was Cedric's parents.
"Where's Harry?" she repeated, but no one could hear her.
She refused to look down for fear of seeing Cedric's body and remembering his expressionless face. However, she saw Snape kneeling beside him, covering him with his black cloak. Ron seemed to find his voice at that moment:
"Hermione, he is, he is, Cedric..."
He was obviously in shock. Hermione snapped out of her vision and turned to Ron, who had lost all colour. He was holding on tightly to Hermione's hand, now the only thing keeping her from falling.
"Ron, Harry, where's Harry?" she demanded, screaming.
"I don't... My Mum, let's find Mum." was his reply.
It didn't take them long to find her. Mrs Weasley was standing at the edge of the lawn, her hand to her mouth and her eyes streaming with tears. Ginny was on her right, clinging to George's arm as he held her close. As Ron arrived, Mrs Weasley rushed over to him:
"Oh, Ron, this is terrible, terrible!"
She embraced her son, who regained some semblance of clarity from the contact. He closed his eyes and hugged his mother. He was taller than she, so it wasn't clear who was comforting whom.
"Where's Harry?" asked Ron's mother after a few seconds.
"I don't know, I can't find him!" cried Hermione in a shrill, panicked voice she didn't recognise. "He was here, and the next thing I knew he was taken away..."
McGonagall walked past them at that moment. Her wand was pressed against her and she looked at Cedric dazedly.
"Professor McGonagall! Where's Harry?" asked Hermione in the same strange voice.
"With Dumbledore, he's..." she started, then turned her head to see that Dumbledore was alone.
Without saying a word, she approached Dumbledore and whispered in his ear. The Headmaster looked around, asked Hagrid and Snape for something and then suddenly left the Quidditch pitch at an impressive speed for such an old man. McGonagall and Snape followed him, their wands pointing straight ahead, their faces impassive.
Ginny was crying into her brother's arm. Mrs Weasley and Ron were still huddled together, shaking slightly. Cedric was being carried out on a stretcher, covered in Snape's black cloak. It was raining hard now.
For the first time since Harry's return, Hermione saw Draco in the crowd. He was still on the Slytherin stand, staring into space. Pansy Parkinson was collapsed against him. She wasn't crying, but her already pale face reflected the same horror as Hermione's. When Hermione looked at them, Draco met her gaze. They didn't say a word, but she could see how terrified he was.
As the rain began to fall in torrents, they all returned to the Castle. Mrs Weasley assumed that Harry had been taken to the Hospital Wing, so they made their way there as quickly as they could. Bill led the group with a calm demeanour. Hermione was still in that stupor that prevented her from feeling anything. Ron was in shock. Ginny couldn't stop crying and Fred and George comforted her in hushed tones.
The Castle was full of panicked students. No one really understood what was happening and everyone was asking questions aloud. Bill had to fight his way through the crowd to reach the stairs. When they reached the Hospital Wing, Madam Pomfrey was tending to a patient in one of the back beds, presumably Krum.
"Where's Harry?" asked Hermione as she inspected each open bed.
He wasn't there. Her pulse quickened dangerously.
"Can I help you?" the nurse asked in a low voice.
"We're looking for Harry." Mrs Weasley explained.
"He's not here, I'm afraid."
They all asked her questions at once. Hermione felt her insides tighten as Madam Pomfrey shook her head. She hated not knowing where Harry was, especially after seeing him in such a state. He'd been hurt. Why wasn't he in the Hospital Wing being treated?
Fred and George volunteered to go and find Dumbledore and Ginny followed. She was still crying and her wet clothes clung to her skin, as did Hermione's, who was shivering with cold and fear.
Turning her head, Hermione was surprised to see Moody lying in a bed in the distance. He was missing an eye and his skull was bald, giving him a frightening look. He looked in very bad shape. Hermione raised her eyebrows, surprised to see her teacher here.
"Did you see him before he left?" asked Mrs Weasley in a frankly impatient tone. "Does anyone have any idea where the boy might be?"
Just as she asked this, the door to the Hospital Wing opened and everyone turned. In the doorway stood Dumbledore, looking perfectly calm, unlike everyone else. Harry was there too, half leaning against him, grimacing in pain. He was covered in mud and blood, his body convulsing with nervous spasms.
"Harry! Oh, Harry!" screamed Mrs. Weasley when she saw him.
She approached but Dumbledore stopped her with a wave of his hand:
"Molly." he said in a firm voice. "Please listen to me for a moment. Harry has been through a terrible ordeal tonight. He has just had to relive it for me. What he needs now is sleep, and peace, and quiet. If he would like you all to stay with him," he added, looking around at Ron, Hermione and Bill, "you may do so. But I do not want you questioning him until he is ready to answer, and certainly not this evening."
Everyone nodded. It was clear that Harry was still in shock. His left eye twitched behind his broken glasses.
"Headmaster?" asked Madam Pomfrey. "May I ask what this...?"
"This dog is going to be staying with Harry for a while." Dumbledore explained, and Hermione only then noticed a large black dog at Harry's foot. Sirius. "I'll be back as soon as I've seen Fudge. I'm asking you to stay here until tomorrow, Harry."
Harry nodded and Dumbledore left the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey helped Harry into the first bed. He changed into new pyjamas. When he saw Moody, he asked the nurse softly:
"How is he?"
"He'll be alright." Madam Pomfrey assured him.
Hermione didn't understand this exchange. Harry probably knew what Moody was suffering from, perhaps he had seen him in the labyrinth.
Everyone took their places around Harry, Hermione and Ron closest to him. When his green eyes landed on them, he smiled faintly:
" I'm alright." he promised in a raspy voice. "Just tired."
This reassured Hermione, who managed to give him a pale smile. Madam Pomfrey then handed him a Dreamless Sleep potion, which Harry swallowed. As soon as he finished the bottle, his eyes closed by themselves and his head bobbed against the pillow.
Hermione gently removed his glasses, took out her wand, said: "Occulus Reparo" and placed them on the bedside table.
The Hospital Wing fell silent. Everyone watched Harry sleep without saying a word. It was restful. Hermione could now see the events of the evening more clearly. Now that she knew Harry was alive, she allowed herself to ask all the questions she hadn't dared before, too worried about her best friend.
Who had killed Cedric Diggory?
A cold shiver ran down her spine and she knew she already had the answer to that question.
It wasn't long before Harry woke up, alerted by Fudge's screams in the corridor. Hermione was standing with Ron against one of the windows of the room. Watching the Minister burst into the Hospital Wing, followed by an enraged McGonagall and an inexpressive Snape, Hermione thought that this scene was exactly like the one the year before, when Sirius had been captured.
"Where's Dumbledore?" shouted Fudge to Mrs Weasley.
"He's not here." she replied sharply. "This is a Hospital Wing, Minister, and you'd better..."
Dumbledore entered at that moment. A conversation ensued that Hermione did not understand at all. They were talking about Barty Crouch, and Hermione realised far too late that they were actually talking about Junior, Barty Crouch's son. She didn't understand the point of the discussion, but she reacted especially when Dumbledore announced in a solemn voice:
"Lord Voldemort was giving him instructions, Cornelius. Those people's deaths were mere by-products of a plan to restore Voldemort to full strength again. The plan succeeded. Voldemort has been restored to his body."
Everyone shivered. Although Hermione had suspected it, hearing it in Dumbledore's voice was even more striking. She exchanged a startled look with Ron.
While Fudge denied his return and questioned Harry's "maddening" mind, Hermione imagined what Harry might have faced tonight.
"Forgive me, Dumbledore..." said Fudge with an odd smile, as if expecting someone to tell him that it was actually a big joke. "I've never heard of a scar acting as an alarm bell before..."
Hermione felt a hatred for the Minister that Harry surely shared, for he suddenly shouted:
"Listen! I saw Voldemort come back!"
Everyone fell silent. Hermione's worst fears had just been confirmed.
"I saw the Death Eaters!" he continued in a loud voice. "I can even give you their names! Lucius Malfoy..."
Hermione took the name like a punch to the gut. She knew for a fact that Lucius Malfoy was a Death Eater. It was obvious, even Draco had hinted at it several times. But she wondered if his son was aware of his actions tonight. Did Draco know his father had seen the Dark Lord? Did he already know about the plan to capture Harry in the labyrinth?
She shook her head. She was being rational. She knew Draco. Even if he was trying to play a role with Harry, she knew he wouldn't want to hurt him. He couldn't know. If she found out that the boy she'd spent most evenings of the year with, the boy she was starting to seriously like, was plotting behind her back to set up her best friend, she'd be able to collapse on the spot.
Fudge still wasn't listening, despite the names Harry was mentioning. Still, Dumbledore was trying hard to talk sense into him. Every argument he gave to prove His return gave Hermione goose bumps. But Fudge was stubborn.
"He can't be back." he said, staring into Dumbledore's eyes. "He can't. That's impossible."
Dumbledore was about to retort, when Snape suddenly stepped in. His movement was so sudden that Ron flinched beside Hermione. Snape stood in front of Fudge, his face devoid of emotion, and lifted the sleeve of his cloak to show him his forearm.
"There." Snape said in his deep, gravelly voice. "There. The Dark Mark. It is not as clear as it was an hour or so ago, when it burned black, but you can still see it. Lord Voldemort carved this mark in every Death Eater's arm with fire."
Hermione couldn't hold back a hiccup of surprise. She couldn't see very well, but she thought she saw a black ink stain in the shape of a skull on her teacher's pale skin. Harry had told her that Snape had been a Death Eater, but this was the first time she had seen such real evidence.
It was a means of distinguishing one another, and his means of summoning us to him." Snape continued. "When he touched the Mark of any Death Eater, we were to Disapparate, and Apparate, instantly, at his side. This Mark has been growing clearer all year. Karkaroff's too. Why do you think Karkaroff fled tonight? We both felt the Mark burn. We both knew he had returned. Karkaroff fears the Dark Lord's vengeance. He betrayed too many of his fellow Death Eaters to be sure of a welcome back into the fold."
Fudge opened and closed his mouth a few times, his eyes fixed on the Mark of Snape. His face then took on an ominous purplish tinge, and he looked up at Dumbledore with deep disgust marked on his features.
"I don't know what you and your staff are playing at, Dumbledore, but I have heard enough. I have no more to add. I will be in touch with you tomorrow, Dumbledore, to discuss the running of this school. I must return to the Ministry."
And he left furiously, not without throwing the bag of a thousand Galleons Harry had won on his bed. Harry didn't even look at it.
As Fudge left the room, Dumbledore turned to the others in the room. He was perfectly calm for someone who had just had a violent argument.
"There's work to be done." he said gravely. "Molly, am I right in thinking that I can count on you and Arthur?"
"Of course you can." assured Mrs. Weasley at once.
Hermione felt a surge of admiration for this woman of such courage. Dumbledore then distributed tasks: Bill went to deliver the message to his father, Madam Pomfrey was sent to fetch Winky, and McGonagall left to find Hagrid and Madam Maxime.
"And now, it is time for two of our number to recognize each other for what they are." announced Dumbledore once everyone had gone outside. "Sirius... if you could resume your usual form."
The big black dog beside Harry's bed raised its head, and a second later it was back in human form. Mrs. Weasley screamed in terror:
"Sirius Black!" she shrieked.
"Calm down, Mum!" said Ron, coming over to her and holding her arm. "It's okay!"
Snape, for his part, watched Sirius in horror. The tension in the room was suddenly charged with animosity. Hermione almost expected them to get into a duel in the middle of the Hospital Wing.
"Him!" hissed Snape. "What's he doing here?"
"He's here because I invited him." said Dumbledore peacefully. "As are you, Severus. I know I can count on you both. The time has come to forget your old quarrels and trust each other."
Seeing Sirius's eyes full of revulsion, Hermione realised that Dumbledore was asking the impossible. They really hated each other.
"In the short term..." continued Dumbledore, with a certain impatience in his voice, "You might be content not to show open hostility to each other. You'll start by shaking hands. You're on the same side now. We don't have much time and, if the few who know the truth don't unite now, there will soon be no hope for any of us."
Very slowly, Snape and Sirius shook hands, never stopping their murderous glances at each other.
"That will do for now." said Dumbledore, stepping between them. "Now, I have work for both of you. Fudge's attitude, while not surprising, changes everything. Sirius, you must leave immediately to warn Remus Lupin, Arabella Figg, Mondingus Fletcher, the old crowd. Stay hidden at Lupin's for now, I'll contact you there."
"But..." said Harry weakly. He was looking at his godfather with such pain that it was difficult for Hermione to look at him.
"You'll see me again very soon, Harry." Sirius assured. "I promise you I will. But I have to do what I can, you understand, don't you?"
"Yes." said Harry. "Yes... Of course."
Sirius shook his hand affectionately, turned into a dog again and left the room. Mrs. Weasley followed him with a look of astonishment.
"Severus." Dumbledore said, turning to Snape. "You know what I must ask of you. If you are prepared..."
"I'm ready." Snape replied confidently.
Hermione frowned. She would have liked to know the contents of this hidden mission.
"Good luck, then." said Dumbledore gravely.
Snape left the room without a glance around. He closed the door of the Hospital Wing, which fell into silence. After Fudge's screams and Dumbledore's words, Hermione greeted the silence with pleasure.
"I have to go downstairs." announced Dumbledore. "I need to see the Diggorys. Harry, drink the rest of your potion. I'll be back a little later."
Harry nodded as he watched the Headmaster leave the room in his turn. Hermione watched him as he gazed up at the ceiling, obviously digesting all the information from the evening. His left eye was still twitching behind his glasses.
Ron's mum then approached Harry's bed and spoke to him in the gentlest tone possible:
"You need to finish your potion, Harry. You need a good night's sleep. Try to think of something else... Think of all the things you're going to be able to buy with what you've earned!"
"I don't want that gold." Harry replied at once, as if the very idea hurt him. His voice was even hoarser from shouting so much. "Take it. Give it to anyone. It wasn't me who should have won it, it was Cedric."
Her voice broke a little as she said his first name. Hermione felt the tears welling up against her will. He looked as if he had suffered so much...
"It's not your fault, Harry." whispered Mrs. Weasley.
"I told him to take the cup with me..."
He blinked several times to chase the tears from the corners of his eyes. Mrs. Weasley put the potion back on the bedside table, and took Harry in her arms. The embrace seemed to shock Harry for the first few seconds, but then he relented, and closed his eyes. Molly was hugging him tightly.
They stayed like that for a long time, and Hermione felt it did him good. He buried his face in her neck as she stroked his back and rocked him gently.
Hermione looked away. She felt like she was invading their privacy and she didn't want to embarrass Harry. She looked out of the window into the night. From a distance she could still hear the faint voices of several students outside.
Her eyes were drawn to a black spot on the windowsill. When she saw a huge beetle, she blinked several times. It was strange that there was a beetle there...
Hermione suddenly understood. It wasn't just any bug. It was Rita Skeeter. Her theory was right: she was an unregistered Animagus. She'd thought she could turn into a cockroach, but a beetle made more sense. Besides, it was a beetle that Viktor had removed from her hair.
Anger overwhelmed Hermione's emotions. She felt a gut-wrenching rage at the thought of that horrible journalist describing the intimate scene Harry was experiencing. It would destroy him. So she acted on her emotions. She took a small, empty jar from Madam Pomfrey's potions table, walked over to the window and trapped the beast.
Her capture made more noise than she had intended. She quickly screwed the jar shut and hastily tucked it into her cloak pocket. She turned to find Mrs Weasley, Harry and Ron looking at her strangely.
"Sorry." she whispered.
"Your potion, Harry." Mrs Weasley said, wiping her eyes.
Harry drank the potion in one go. His head fell back on the pillows and he closed his eyes, swollen with tears.
.
.
.
.
The next few days were very strange.
Harry had returned, but he looked like a ghost. He looked pale all the time and didn't speak. He only stayed with Hermione and Ron. The night after he returned from the Hospital Wing, he told them very briefly what had happened. Even without the details, Hermione had been horrified that her best friend could have gone through all this alone. She couldn't sleep for two nights in a row.
After that, Harry refused to talk about it. Not about Cedric, not about Dumbledore, not about the Dark Lord. Hermione and Ron understood this and avoided all subjects related to Harry's terrors. He and Ron would play chess in silence, or he would read next to Hermione in the armchairs in the Common Room, although Hermione suspected he wasn't really reading. He sat next to them in class, but his eyes were always lost in the void.
Ron and Hermione were not surprised when Harry asked if they could visit Hagrid during a free period on Thursday. As they sat around the round table in his hut, drinking cinnamon tea and eating small biscuits, Hagrid asked Harry:
"Are you all right?"
"Yes." he replied.
"No, you're not." Hagrid said. "Of course you're not. But you will be."
.
.
.
.
On the last night before they left for the holidays, the traditional end of year feast was replaced by a ceremony in honour of Cedric. It was the first time Hermione cried for him. It was as if her throat had been tightened all the time, and Dumbledore's speech had managed to make her burst into tears. Harry didn't cry, but he remained stoic, ignoring the curious looks the other students gave him.
Just before the end, Hermione turned her head to see Draco on the other side of the Great Hall. He wasn't crying and he wasn't looking at Dumbledore as he spoke. But Hermione could tell that Cedric's death had affected him too. Her heart sank. Lucius Malfoy had been there that night.
She decided to go to the Library after the feast. She hadn't seen Draco since the week before the exams and she was dying to talk to him. She wanted to know what he was thinking and how he was doing.
Harry went to bed early that night and Ron went with him. Hermione took the opportunity to sneak out of the Common Room before curfew and walked briskly to the Library. On the way, she imagined all the things she wanted to say to him. All the questions she wanted to ask him, and all the answers she dreaded hearing.
And even though she was angry with him for the article and for Skeeter, she could hardly contain her desire to see him and talk to him. Even if it was stupid.
She arrived at the Library with a list of questions in her head. She imagined how he would be dressed, how he would smell, how he would sound. Her heart throbbed painfully with every step she took, longing to see him again before she left for the summer.
But when Hermione rounded the last shelf and reached the round table, it was empty. She had been so sure that Draco would be sitting there that a wave of disappointment swept over her and she began to cry quietly.
She looked around the table and noticed that her note about Skeeter was gone. So he had come here.
She was about to turn around when she saw a piece of parchment on the edge of the table.
She threw herself at it and picked it up. Underneath it were five large pieces of a Galleon. Hermione looked at them without understanding, then turned the paper over to read what he had written.
Two words were written in his beautiful italic script.
"You've won."