notes :
- I fancast Rodolphus as Ezra Miller, if you need a mental image :)
- There is a lot of canon in this chapter, I'm sorry in advance if you find it a bit boring...
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Draco
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Draco spent the days following Granger's disappearance wandering around the Manor.
On Sunday, when he received no letter, he realised that Granger had definitely gone to the "Burrow". He imagined her journey that day. He found it hard to picture Granger on the Knight Bus, or even in the wizarding villages of England. In the evening, he wondered which bed she would sleep in. He suspected that the Weasleys were far too poor to offer her a bed of her own, so he concluded that she was sleeping with Weaslette.
On Monday, he chose to meditate rather than think. He spent the day sorting through his memories, only stopping for a few hours to eat with his mother. He was so exhausted from organising his mental library that he fell asleep in an instant.
On Tuesday, he woke up with a headache in his right temple and, avoiding too much Occlumency, spent the day worrying about what might be happening at the Weasley house. He wondered if Granger was in more danger there, on the other side of the war, than she was in her Muggle London. He also wondered what she might be doing all day: riding a broom for the bet? Reading on the sofa? Laughing with Weasley? That question kept him depressed for several hours.
On Wednesday, he spent the day wandering aimlessly around his Manor. In the afternoon, he was so bored that he memorised all the portraits in the Manor, one by one. He visited each room four times and walked around without stopping to do anything. He was afraid that if he sat down to read or rest, the feeling of torment he was experiencing would return with a vengeance. So, he wandered around for hours, until late in the afternoon, when he was interrupted by a noise.
It was an owl, behind one of the windows he had just passed. For a crazy second, Draco thought it was Granger who had managed to send him a message from the Weasley house, but he soon realised that wasn't the case when he saw what the owl was holding in its beak: a blue postcard.
Draco went to his room to pay the owl and sat down on his bed to read the card. It was a Muggle postcard, showing the great expanse of water, overlooked by mountains, with houses of all colours scattered along the coast. Draco looked at it for a long moment, amazed that the surface of the lake did not move, or that the birds frozen on the paper did not continue their trajectory. He realised it was the lake Blaise had mentioned before they left: Lake Como.
Draco turned the postcard over and easily recognised Theo's handwriting, written in midnight blue ink:
Hey Draco and Pansy!
We sent you this card from a little Muggle village we visited after the wedding. Blaise didn't like it very much, but I loved it! We even went to a church!
The wedding went well. The ceremony took place on the shore of the lake, facing the water, and it was wonderful. As Blaise's mum is very busy organising the trip, we're allowed to visit a lot, so we've been to Como, Bellano and tonight we're going to Varenna. We're eating well and it's really hot.
We hope all is well with you and that you don't get too bored without our irreplaceable presence. We know how much you miss us. But don't worry, we'll be back early tomorrow afternoon to bring some sunshine into your depressing lives.
Love from Italy!
Theo and Blaise.
Draco smiled as he read the card. He could picture the scene as if he'd been there: Theo insisting on buying a postcard and Blaise shrugging his shoulders and agreeing, but refusing to write anything on it. He could almost hear Theo's voice: "Come on, Blaise, just a quick word!"
That explained why Blaise's signature was different: the only word he had agreed to write under Theo's pleading, probably.
Draco reread his best friend's few sentences several times. Theo was not entirely wrong when he said that they would bring sunshine back into their lives when they returned: their absence was almost painful.
A movement outside caught Draco's eye and he saw Pansy and his cousin Rodolphus Apparating into the garden of Pansy Manor. The landing was violent: Draco saw Pansy's body waltz off and land on her back on the grass, while Rodolphus was thrown ten feet away. But Pansy didn't seem to mind the brutality of the Apparition: she was laughing uncontrollably on the grass.
Draco frowned. He had never liked Pansy's cousin, and seeing him Apparate like this did nothing to improve his opinion of him. He was putting Pansy in danger and she was too in awe of him to notice!
He walked quickly down the steps of the Manor and opened the back door to the garden. His mother wasn't there, probably in her chambers. He crossed the huge garden alone, skirting the fountain until he reached the hedge, which he stepped over. He found himself in Pansy's garden, but saw no one, so he went to knock on the main door.
It was her elf who opened it, but Pansy and Rodolphus were in the hall behind him, still laughing. When she saw him, Pansy smiled broadly:
"Draco! What are you doing here?" she asked as she walked up to him.
"I came to see how you were." Draco replied curtly. "I saw you land, I thought you were hurt..."
"Draco Malfoy!" exclaimed Rodolphus when he saw him. "At last I see you again!"
His American accent almost made Draco roll his eyes. To hear him speak, you'd think he'd lived there all his life, even though he was only a student there. He probably thought it made him sound cooler.
"Yeah. Hey, Rodolphus." Draco said in the most blasé tone he could muster.
Rodolphus shook his hand, much harder than necessary, but Draco pretended not to feel anything. Pansy's cousin had exactly the same features as her: the same elongated eyes, the same charcoal colour. He had very long eyelashes, a pale complexion and a full mouth, often stretched into a wry grin. The only two things that distinguished him from Pansy were his inky black curly shoulder-length hair, and his height.
Rodolphus had had medium-length hair for as long as Draco had known him, and he'd always thought it looked awful. He was sure he'd let it grow to distinguish himself from the Parkinson family codes. Draco couldn't understand how Pansy's father could put up with such an affront from his nephew when he couldn't stand it if Pansy had even one badly combed hair.
"Have you been locked up in your tower all this time?" asked Rodolphus with a mocking laugh. "First time I've seen your face since I arrived. Aren't you going to say hello to your favourite cousin?"
"You're not my cousin." Draco grumbled, finding it hard to pretend to like the guy.
"Maybe not, but I'm still your favourite." Rodolphus objected. "Are you telling me there's someone in your family who's as nice as me?"
Before Draco could argue, Pansy exclaimed in a proud voice:
"No, there isn't! Draco, you'll never believe what we did today!"
Pansy walked around her cousin and stood in front of Draco. She radiated so much happiness that it was hard to be angry with Rodolphus when he saw her like this. How long had it been since he'd seen her this happy?
"Smearing your face in the garden?" quipped Draco.
"Hey! Don't insult my Apparition skills!" Pansy's cousin interjected, laughing.
"The landing was great!" said Pansy to reassure him. "I couldn't stop laughing!"
Draco cast a disapproving glance over his best friend's outfit. The Pansy he knew would have hated falling in the grass like that, and she would never have accepted getting mud on her clothes. He said nothing so as not to offend her and let her continue:
"No, that's even better! We spent the day... in France!" Pansy exclaimed happily.
This time, Draco didn't hide his surprise.
"In France?" he repeated incredulously. "I thought you hated France."
Pansy had always said that she hated that country. No one really understood why, but Draco knew it was because her mother had fled there when she abandoned her.
"That's because she hadn't been there with me." Rodolphus said, grabbing Pansy by the waist and rubbing his hand over her head.
The Pansy Draco knew would have howled with rage at the thought of someone messing with her hair like that, but the Pansy in front of him burst out laughing.
Draco suddenly remembered why he had been cooped up in the Manor all this time: he much preferred looking at the portraits in the corridors to spending five minutes in a room with Rodolphus.
"I have to go, my mother's expecting me." Draco lied. "Here, I wanted you to have this. I just received it."
He handed the card to Pansy, who let out a squeal of delight and began to read it. His cousin, as intrusive as ever, didn't hesitate to read it over her shoulder as well. Draco looked at him and gritted his teeth. He didn't like the idea of Rodolphus reading a private letter from Theo and Blaise at all.
"Oh, thank you, Draco! I can't wait for them to get home!" cried Pansy when she had finished.
Draco nodded and was about to turn around when he heard footsteps on the stairs. Rodolphus immediately drew his wand and cast a cleaning spell on Pansy to remove the mud stains from her skirt.
"Is that you I hear in the hall?" called out the husky voice of Pansy's father.
"Yes, Father, we've just arrived." Pansy said in a much more composed voice than the one she'd had a few seconds earlier.
Draco saw her hide the postcard behind her back as Pansy's father stood facing the group of three, his gaze cold and calculating. He was wearing his famous grey suit, which he never took off. His face was even more angular than his daughter's, giving him an authoritarian air that was a little frightening. He fixed his dark eyes on each of them, pausing on Draco for a second.
"Mr Malfoy. To what do we owe this honour?" he asked.
"Good evening Mr Parkinson." Draco greeted respectfully. "I just wanted to say good night to Pansy, who I haven't seen for a few days. I'll be heading home for dinner."
Pansy's father nodded gravely. Turning to his daughter, he curled his thin lips into a grimace of disgust:
"Where's your headband? Your hair is a terrible mess."
"In my pocket, Father." Pansy replied piteously, hastily removing the accessory and placing it on her hair. Her father's stern gaze did not soften, however; he looked at her as if she were covered in troll snot.
"How dare you introduce yourself to your guests like that?" he hissed, so low that Draco wondered if he wasn't speaking in Parseltongue. "It's a disgrace, Pansy."
"I'm sorry, Father." Pansy apologised, her cheeks flushed and her head bowed.
Draco didn't try to think of all the times he'd seen Pansy in a far worse state than this: dancing at a party with her skirt almost up, or drinking as many shots as she could before throwing it all up in the toilet while he held her hair, or chaining Muggle cigarettes together outside...
He immediately closed his mind and put all compromising memories of Pansy into his mental library, in case her father was a Legilimens.
"Why so serious, Percy?" asked Rodolphus suddenly, laughing. "It's only a headband!"
Draco's breath caught in his throat when he heard Pansy's cousin call his uncle by that name. Even Pansy, who was always apologising for Rodolphus' behaviour, gave him an indignant look. No one had ever dared to address her father with such disrespect.
To everyone's surprise, Pansy's father did not seem upset. He turned to his nephew:
"It's a matter of appearances, Rodolphus. I suppose you don't have to worry about that in the States, but here good manners are always the order of the day." he said sharply. "I was just coming to see you, I'd like to talk to you alone in my office, I have some information to give you before you leave tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?" repeated Pansy, in a strangled exclamation.
"Pansy!" cried her father at once. "Stop interrupting!"
Pansy bowed her head slightly.
"Sorry, Father. I just wanted to make sure I'd heard right, Rodolphus was supposed to stay on for another week..."
"That is no longer the case." Pansy's father said coldly. "He's going back to the States tomorrow. Come with me, Rodolphus. In my study."
Pansy's father gave Draco a quick nod, then turned and walked up the stairs. Rodolphus shot his cousin an apologetic look before following.
Just before they reached the top floor, Pansy's father's voice echoed down the hall:
"Pansy, get cleaned up at once!"
She gasped and looked at Draco. She looked extremely distressed.
"I will, Father!" she said in reply.
She walked past Draco, who thought she was opening the door for him to leave, but he realised she was actually taking a feather out of a drawer. She took the postcard from Theo and Blaise and wrote in the corner:
"Fountain, 8pm?"
Draco nodded happily. They hadn't seen each other at the fountain since Rodolphus had arrived. Pansy nodded, handed him the card back and quickly went up to her room to change.
"Mother?"
Narcissa looked up in surprise. Draco had not said a word during the meal they had shared in silence. Narcissa seemed pensive, lost in her distant thoughts, until Draco spoke to her towards the end of the dinner.
"Yes?"
"What do you think of Rodolphus Parkinson?"
Narcissa frowned for a moment, then asked:
"Vivian Parkinson and Helen Fawley's son? Pansy's first cousin?"
Draco nodded, impressed by his mother's ability to remember all those people. Narcissa pursed her lips slightly:
"I met him a few times at formal dinners, but I never spoke to him. It was as if he always felt the need to stand out, speak too loudly or make an inappropriate comment to impress everyone." she said, shaking her head in disapproval. "But I hear he's a clever boy and quite likeable. Awful haircut, I might add."
Draco nodded in agreement.
"He's been on holiday with Pansy for a few days. I don't like him very much." he admitted.
"Oh, is that why you don't spend much time with her at the moment?"
"Yes... Among other things."
Draco was surprised that his mother had noticed how often he was at the Manor. He never saw her, but she was still aware of his activities.
"And when will Blaise and Theodore be back from Italy?" asked Narcissa, taking a sip of wine.
"Tomorrow." Draco replied, a hint of excitement in his voice.
"Have you had any news?" she asked.
Draco was about to tell her about the postcard when he stopped. He suddenly remembered his father's order a few weeks ago not to be friends with Theo. He had never spoken to his mother about it again and he was suddenly afraid that she was testing him: if he said yes, would she tell Lucius? Could he get into trouble?
As if sensing his thoughts, his mother immediately reassured him:
"Draco, you can tell me anything."
"Well... Yes, they sent me a card..."
Narcissa nodded with a small smile.
"I'm glad they're having a good time there. I'm sorry you couldn't go, you would have loved Italy, I think."
"You're not angry?"
"Angry?" she repeated, not understanding.
"Father... He asked me to stop talking to Theo..." Draco began, but Narcissa stopped him by raising her hand:
"It was a stupid request." she said, so curtly that her tone surprised him. "Theodore is a perfectly respectable boy from a complicated family. I certainly wouldn't want you to stop being friends with him just because your father asked you to. I won't tell him, and it will remain a secret between us. Is that all right?"
Draco was pleased at the offer and nodded his head. His mother rarely disobeyed Lucius' orders, but Draco knew she had a special affection for Theo. Narcissa nodded as if to seal her agreement before rising gracefully:
"I'm quite tired. Would you mind if I cut this meal short?"
"No, not at all. I wasn't hungry anyway." he said, as he got up as well.
"Good." his mother said as she walked away. "Then tell Pansy I said good night."
Draco blinked a few times, surprised at this instruction, then left the dining room and opened the door to the garden.
It was still early compared to Pansy's appointment, so Draco lay down alone by the fountain and waited for her to arrive, meditating a little. The splashing of the fountain beside him quickly calmed his mind.
A few minutes later, there was the sound of soft footsteps and Pansy was lying on the grass next to him. She had her headband in her hair, which she immediately removed.
They didn't speak for several seconds, taking advantage of the silence.
"He's leaving tomorrow." Pansy finally announced, her voice full of sobs.
Draco turned to her and stared for a few seconds at her face, turned towards the stars. Selfishly, he was a little happy to have his best friend all to himself again, but at the same time he hated to see her like this. He couldn't stand his cousin, but he could even less stand seeing Pansy so sad. He fumbled in the grass for her hand.
"I'm sorry, Pans'." he murmured.
"It's not fair." she said, sniffling a little. "He was supposed to stay for a fortnight."
"Is it your father who doesn't want him to stay?" asked Draco.
"No, it's him. He says he has business there and can't stay..."
She ran her other hand over her face, probably to wipe away tears that Draco pretended not to see.
"Is that what he wanted to talk to your father about, in his office?"
"I don't know, they were in there for over an hour and they didn't talk about it over dinner. Rodolphus just left me a note in my room before he went to bed..."
She handed him the crumpled note, which Draco read in the moonlight:
Pansy,
I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was leaving tomorrow. I've got things to sort out in the States, things I really need to do. But I'll see you soon, I promise.
Take care,
Rodolphus.
By the time he had finished reading, Pansy was crying. Draco handed her the note again and patted her hand in a gesture of comfort:
"I'm sorry, Pans'..."
"He didn't even say goodbye..." she said between sobs. "He's leaving early tomorrow and I won't even see him..."
"I'm sure he wanted to, but he couldn't in front of your father... Maybe it's better this way..."
"I wanted to introduce him to Theo and Blaise..." she said in a small voice.
"Blaise has already seen him, hasn't he?" replied Draco. "And he said he'd be back soon, so Theo can meet him then... And you had a good time with him, didn't you? You had a good day with him, it's nice that it ends there, don't you think?"
Pansy nodded sadly. Draco continued to stroke the back of her hand as she calmed down a little. Wiping away her tears one last time, she asked quietly:
"Why does everyone end up abandoning me?"
Draco's heart sank at the question.
"He's not abandoning you, Pans'..." he murmured. "And I'm here. Blaise and Theo too. We'll always be here, you know that."
In response, Pansy squeezed Draco's fingers, who understood her gratitude through this simple gesture. They weren't very good at talking about things like that, so he understood that she didn't want to dwell on it.
After a long silence, she turned to him, her dark eyes a little misty:
"You don't like him very much, Rodolphus, do you?"
She already knew Draco's opinion of his cousin, but he didn't want to hurt her any more tonight. So he answered instead:
"I like to see you happy."
She seemed satisfied with the answer.
As Draco scanned the cloudy sky for his constellation, she said quietly:
"I told him."
"Told him what?" asked Draco.
"That I'm in love with you. To Rodolphus, I told him."
"Oh." replied Draco, surprised at this confession. "What did he say?"
"That I was stupid."
"Then he doesn't like me very much either." Draco concluded with a chuckle.
"No, not much, I guess." Pansy admitted. "But he doesn't know the good things about you, you're always a bit cold when people don't know you well."
"That's why he shook my hand so hard earlier." Draco guessed, remembering Pansy's cousin's grip.
"Maybe. But he's just trying to protect me, that's all." Pansy said, still defending Rodolphus.
"I know, I get it. I'd be upset too if you'd told me that."
"Still, it's my fault. But this year, I'm going to stop being in love. I'll try to change, to move on. I promise." she said in a much more confident voice.
"I don't want you to change too much either." Draco said, who didn't like this promise.
"Theo told me that I should try to love myself before I love anyone else." she said.
"I think that's excellent advice." he assured her. "Try to understand how you feel, and take your time, and do it in a healthy way, and you'll see that things will get much better."
Still stroking the back of her hand, Draco gave her a smile to which she replied.
"You haven't even told me about France." he said, changing the subject.
Pansy began to recount her day's adventures in a much more enthusiastic tone. Draco listened quietly, trying not to react to every moment when Rodolphus irritated him, and then they had fun finding their constellation despite the clouds covering the sky.
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The next day, as usual, Draco woke up thinking about Granger. He lay in bed for a few minutes, wondering what she could be doing all day, before meditating and closing his mind. He got ready, ate his breakfast as long as he could, read the paper twice and sat in the Manor library trying to read, but to no avail. When she wasn't there, with her cinnamon teas and dozens of scattered notebooks, it was as if he couldn't concentrate.
He decided to skip lunch and go to Blaise's house. He hadn't been there since they had left for Italy, but Draco felt the need to work off his boredom. He told his mother, and set off down the village lane.
Blaise's house was completely empty, devoid of light and life, which made it much less inviting than usual. When Draco arrived at the door, Cooky opened it before he could knock:
"Hello, Mr Draco." he greeted in his thin voice.
"I've come to play a bit of Quidditch." explained Draco, who thought he looked a bit ridiculous coming to the pitch alone.
The elf made no comment and let him in.
"Can Cooky get you anything?" the elf offered. "Something to eat? Or a refreshing drink perhaps?"
"No, thank you, not at the moment." Draco said as he walked into the garden.
Luckily, Cooky did not follow him. Draco automatically went to the cupboard to put on his Quidditch gear and pick up one of Blaise's many brooms. The moment he straddled it, he felt a considerable weight of stress evaporate from his shoulders. He took off and circled the pitch several times, enjoying the warm wind that hit his face.
Quidditch, and flying a broom in general, had always given him unique sensations. He had always loved it. But now, with his mind constantly occupied by dark thoughts, flying was even more freeing. Up there, there was no stress, no Lucius, no shameful thoughts, no hidden feelings, no Snape, no secrets. He was alone with his empty head, and it did him good. It was like a new form of Occlumancy.
Draco enjoyed the feeling for a while, then went back to practising Quidditch. At first he enjoyed every second of it, like a new found freedom.
Then, he started looking around for Blaise.
Draco had never played Quidditch without Blaise, except at Hogwarts. And he soon realised that the feeling of freedom he associated with Quidditch was also associated with his best friend. When he played, he usually laughed out loud, or tried out new techniques together, or challenged each other, or invented games. Always with Blaise.
The fact that no one was there to catch the ball quickly became depressing. Two hours after Draco had started, Cooky came with a tray of apples and juice, which he left on the grass before he left, but Draco didn't take anything. He preferred to stay in the air, spinning aimlessly, bitterly regretting that his best friend wasn't with him.
He was trying to do three loops in a row when he suddenly heard someone call out from behind him:
"Hey, Dray!"
Thinking he was dreaming, Draco turned to see Blaise approaching the pitch, followed closely by Theo, who was smiling at him. Draco's heart immediately filled with joy.
"You're here!" he exclaimed in relief.
"Of course we're here, didn't you get our card?" shouted Theo, who was still too far away for Draco to hear his voice perfectly.
"Your card, Theo." Blaise corrected as he entered the pitch. "Dray, you got room for me?"
Draco nodded frantically, too moved to express how glad he was that he was there. Blaise opened the cupboard and took out his broom, while Theo rolled his eyes and laughed. He sat down on the floor next to the tray Cooky had brought, took his book out of his pocket and began to read while eating the apple.
When Blaise got on his broom, Draco realised that he didn't really need Occlumancy or Quidditch to feel good.
Seeing his friends gave him the same feeling of happiness.
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On the 2nd of August 1995, Draco declared that he had fully acquired Occlumency.
He had perfected all his techniques, practiced them hundreds of times and stored all his memories in books in his library. Now he could move freely through them without even feeling exhausted. He could close his mind in less than three seconds and become completely hermetically sealed, ready for any attack. He no longer had any doubts about his abilities. He was fully aware of his own thoughts.
His father had finally returned from his mission, more overwhelmed than ever. The dark circles on his waxy skin were obvious. He looked as if he'd had a very difficult month.
Whenever Draco was in the same room with him, he would Occlude. That meant he no longer felt the same fear as before. He had nothing to hide, he was a model son, perfectly sane, without any inappropriate feelings. His father didn't notice the physical changes in his son caused by Occlumancy. In fact, he didn't notice much at all: Lucius spent most of his time locked away in his study, and they ate their dinner quickly and in silence.
As soon as he could, Draco sought refuge in Blaise's house.
As if to make up for their absence, Draco spent much more time there than at home. Pansy often went there too, whenever she could get away without arousing her father's suspicions. Blaise and Theo, in particular, talked at length about their time in Italy. Theo, who had never travelled before, was overjoyed.
"You're so lucky." Pansy had sighed on the evening of their return, just after Theo had given a long talk about the taste of Italian Stracciatella ice cream. "I haven't even travelled this summer!"
Draco had tried not to think about the fact that he had travelled quite well himself, in Muggle London, alongside Granger.
"What are you talking about?" he'd asked instead. "You went to France with Rodolphus."
He'd realised his mistake a second after he'd said it. Pansy had winced as she remembered that day. Rodolphus' departure was always a painful topic. Fortunately, Theo and Blaise had not noticed and had asked her for details of her day, and Pansy had happily begun to tell them.
So, on the 2nd of August, Draco decided he was finally ready, and set off for Blaise's Manor with a determined stride.
He arrived to find Blaise, Theo and Pansy sitting at the garden table. As usual, they were lounging around, enjoying the sunshine: Pansy was stretched out on her chair, her feet resting on Blaise's thighs in front of her, a sun reflector magically designed to make her tan faster. Theo was reading his book, squinting in the sun, and Blaise was eating a peach.
When he saw Draco burst in, Blaise laughed:
"Well, you look pretty lively for such an early hour."
"It's ten o'clock, Blaise." Draco objected and sat down on an empty chair at the table.
Cooky materialised immediately to bring him an iced tea and apple slices.
"In summer, any hour before noon is morning." Blaise remarked.
"I have something to tell you." Draco announced solemnly, looking at his three friends.
"Can it wait?" asked Theo, not looking up from his book. "I'm reading a fascinating chapter..."
Draco glanced at the cover: A Midsummer Night's Dream, by a certain Shakespeare. Draco had never heard of this book, so he assumed it was Muggle. He cleared his throat:
"I'm finally ready to tell you what I was doing with Snape on Thursday nights."
Theo immediately closed his book, Pansy dropped her reflector and Blaise sat up straight in his chair.
"What?!" they all shouted at the same time.
"Really?" exclaimed Theo, stunned.
"Why today?" asked Pansy.
"I warned you that as soon as it was safe for me to tell you, I'd let you know. Today is the day."
"Merlin, Draco, you're not up to something magical on the sly, are you?" asked Theo in a panicked voice. "The Ministry will find you if you use magic before you're seventeen!"
"I'm aware of that law, thank you." Draco replied ironically. "No, it's not really a magic thing, it was more... work on myself."
"Draco, tell us, for goodness sake!" snapped an impatient Pansy.
"Snape did tutor me, but it wasn't in Alchemy." he explained. "It was... Occlumency."
Blaise and Pansy looked puzzled. Theo, on the other hand, slumped back in his chair as if Draco had hit him.
"Are you serious?" he asked, stunned.
"Occluwhat?" asked Pansy.
"Occlumency." Draco repeated. "It's a magical technique that allows you to close your mind and put your thoughts away in case someone tries to get in. A Legilimens."
"Did you know about that, Theo?" asked Blaise. "Did you read about it in one of your books?"
"Not really." he said, his voice suddenly weaker and deeper. "It's my father. He's a Legilimens."
Draco was surprised at this revelation. He'd expected Theo to already know about Occlumency, but he'd never thought he'd been affected by it.
"You mean your father has already forced his way into your mind?" asked Pansy in disgust.
"No, he never really did." Theo confessed. "He just threatened me a few times. I didn't know Snape was one."
"He's mostly an Occlumens." Draco corrected. "He taught me to close my mind, and he trained me to sort my thoughts so that no Legilimens could read them freely."
"Trained you?!" repeated Blaise.
"Yes. He said I'd probably need it in the future and offered to teach it to me." he explained. "That's why you found me like this last time. I was completely drained of energy, it's quite... intense as lessons go. But now I'm fully trained. I can close my mind completely."
"But why did you need it, more than the others?" asked Blaise, his eyebrows furrowed. "What were you trying to hide?"
Draco exchanged a very brief look with Pansy, who remained silent.
"Because my family has a connection to the Dark Lord." he said. "Snape thought I needed to protect confidential information, about you for example, so as not to jeopardise my place in the family. And now that I'm an Occlumens, I can teach you too!"
"No way." Theo cut in. "I don't want to learn it, I think it should be black magic and forbidden."
"I do!" Blaise blurted out, surprised by Theo's categorical refusal. "Seriously, you don't want to learn how to hide what you don't want anyone to see?"
"Hide what? I've got nothing to hide!" Theo protested.
"Do you think the Dark Lord will appreciate you reading this?" scoffed Pansy, pointing at his book.
"Legilimancy is used to search the mind for incriminating information about someone." Theo pointed out. "I don't think the Dark Lord would be interested in my monthly reading."
Theo shook his head, then seemed to think for a second, frowned and changed his mind:
"Well, it might be useful after all..."
"Me too, I want to be able to Occlude." Pansy declared, picking up her tan reflector again to tuck it under her chin. "I don't even know if my father is a Legilimens, it would be nice to be able to defend myself just in case. Is that why you asked me how to meditate, Draco?"
He nodded. As soon as he heard this, Theo let out a long, exasperated sigh, already discouraged.
Draco's three friends resumed their positions, each taking in the news he had just given them. They were lost in thought when Blaise said:
"Well, in any case, I'm relieved."
"Really?" exclaimed Draco.
"Yes... I was afraid that... I mean, private lessons with Snape, so regularly... I was beginning to wonder..." Blaise said evasively with a grin.
It took Draco a few seconds to realise what he was implying. When he finally did, he winced in disgust:
"Fuck, Blaise. Fuck!"
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Hermione
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"Mione? Mione?"
Hermione heard Ginny's voice gently nudging her out of her sleep. Her eyes flickered open to see her leaning over her, her long red hair falling on either side of her face.
"We have to wake up, Mum's getting everything ready..." she whispered.
Hermione concentrated on the sounds in the Burrow: downstairs, everyone was getting restless. She could hear Molly Weasley's shrill voice giving orders to everyone.
"All right, I'll wake up." Hermione said, running her hand over her face.
Ginny went out to wash her face while Hermione dressed and packed her bags. Crookshanks was surprisingly docile enough to get into his cage. He curled up into a ball, a little worried about the journey.
When the two girls were ready and went downstairs, they were faced with chaos.
Mrs Weasley was waving her wand around, trying to sort out everyone's belongings, sending dozens of objects flying over their heads. The twins, being the tallest, kept getting clothes, cutlery and toiletries thrown in their faces, so they cast a Bubble-Head Charm to protect themselves. However, their bubble caused everything Mrs Weasley threw to bounce off, resulting in a cacophony of screams, protests and broken crockery.
Hermione somehow managed to get her luggage together, despite the chaos in the room, and ended up with Crookshanks looking at her bitterly. Ginny and Hermione then helped Mrs Weasley put the last of the suitcases away, Ron took them outside and the twins managed to slip a few tricks into their bags behind their overworked mother's back.
"Everyone ready?" called Mrs Weasley after a good half hour. "Come on, let's go!"
The small group met outside the house, in the garden, and Arthur magically closed the Burrow with several complex spells.
Hermione looked at the house sadly: she would have liked to spend more time there. The Burrow represented summer, holidays, happiness. Looking at Ron, she saw that he must be thinking the same thing. He was glancing around with a wistful look on his face.
Ginny, Ron and Hermione were then given a Side-Along Apparition escort. Ginny went with her father, Ron with his mother and Hermione with Bill.
"Don't worry, I've done this hundreds of times." he said to reassure her.
Hermione nodded, not entirely reassured. Apparating with the twins had not been a very good experience and she had hoped not to have to go through it again for a long time.
One by one, each of the couples disappeared into the air, swirling around themselves. When it was their turn, Hermione clutched Bill's jacket tightly, closed her eyes and felt the ground give way beneath her feet. The ride was less uncomfortable than with Fred and George, but the sensation was as intense as ever. Hermione didn't open her eyes and tried to breathe deeply, ignoring the dizziness she felt.
When they landed, Hermione felt herself falling forward, unable to stand because her head was spinning so much. When she finally opened her eyes, she saw Ron standing just two inches from her face. He had obviously just caught her.
"Merlin, Mione!" he cried.
"I warned you I was afraid of heights." she yelped as she struggled to her feet. "Thanks for catching me."
Ron kept his hand on her arm for a few seconds, and she felt a pleasant shiver at the contact. Then he withdrew it, and as he turned to the right, Hermione saw the house they were standing in front of.
It was a London house, grey brick with long white windows all along the front. But the moment Hermione looked at it, the whole structure shook and house number eleven and number thirteen slowly moved away from each other. The Muggles watching television in the building did not notice the movement.
Then a new house, greyer and darker, appeared between the two, as if it had slipped between them. It was number twelve.
"The Fidelius Charm." Hermione realised.
"Exactly." said Arthur. "Ever since we all heard Dumbledore's address, we've been part of the secret. We can see the house, but it would be hidden from any other passer-by, Muggle or wizard."
The Weasleys and Hermione looked in amazement at the house that had appeared. It was an extremely clever headquarters, because even if someone with evil intentions knew the place, they wouldn't be able to get in.
Still, Hermione was surprised by the banality of the landscape before her. She had expected a huge, noble wizarding building, given everything she had heard about the stature of the Black family. She had imagined a Manor, like the one Draco had often spoken of. But no, it was simply a London house, like the hundreds she had already seen.
Arthur entered first, followed by the rest of his family. They arrived in a long, dusty corridor where they had to queue to get to the end. It was as dark inside as it was outside. The smell was so unpleasant that Hermione had to cover her nose.
Arthur opened the door and they all found themselves in a large kitchen, with a huge wooden table in the middle that could seat a good dozen people. Lupin and Sirius were sitting in the middle of it. When they saw the Weasleys enter, they both stood up at once.
"Oh, you're here! Amazing! Great to see you!" exclaimed Sirius.
He went to greet everyone warmly, even hugging Ron and Hermione. Sirius had never looked cleaner since Hermione had known him: he was shaved, and his face was no longer as gaunt as it had been when he had escaped from Azkaban. His hair was now medium-length and curly, and he was wearing a purple shirt with a black velvet waistcoat.
Hermione realised, for the first time since she had met Harry's godfather, that he was actually quite handsome. She blushed just thinking about it.
Ron's parents thanked Sirius for his hospitality, which Sirius dismissed with a wave of his hand.
"Oh, I should be thanking you. Agreeing to live here... At last some company in this dreary house..."
"By the way, Sirius..." Mrs Weasley began hesitantly. "This house, it's...?"
"Mine, oddly enough." he replied, looking at the walls of the house with a slightly disgusted pout. "It belonged to my parents, who were as rotten as the walls of this place. Since they're both dead, as is my brother, it's rightfully mine against their will. But they're still making me pay for it..."
"Pay?" Mrs Weasley repeated.
"Oh, yes." Sirius said with a sigh. "You'll soon see what I mean. My dear mother would never have left this house without setting a few traps, a few nasty objects here and there..."
Hermione looked around. The kitchen was less dark than the hallway, but it was easy to see that it hadn't been occupied for several years. The furniture was covered in dust and all the objects looked as if they hadn't been cleaned in ages. There was also the smell of mould, which made Ginny wrinkle her nose.
Now that Sirius had mentioned evil, Hermione realised that the shivers she'd felt since entering the house weren't due to the dirt or the eerie atmosphere. She could feel waves of dark magic in the air, like a weight.
"But let's stop talking about it, you're here, that's the most important thing." Sirius concluded, clapping his hands. "Moony and I will help you get your luggage upstairs..."
Just then, the kitchen door opened and an elf entered. This elf was nothing like Dobby, who, despite his elfish physique, had always had a jovial face. This elf was grimier and more shriveled. He wore a faded cloth, as dirty as the rest of the room. As he entered, he quickly raised his head to look at them before lowering his eyes to the floor again.
"Well, some newcomers, they must be the impure ones the young master spoke of a few days ago..." the elf murmured, as if talking to himself without realising that he was saying everything out loud. "All those redheads, those impure ones, oh, what would my mistress think if she were here? She would be devastated, devastated to see all these blood traitors in her house, this beautiful house..."
"Kreacher!" Sirius shouted at the elf. "Stop mumbling!"
"Sorry, Master." Kreacher said, though his tone suggested otherwise. Then he immediately started muttering again: "Oh, and there's a young girl here, but Kreacher doesn't know her, and she's not a redhead, so Kreacher wonders who she could be..."
"Pleased to meet you, Kreacher." Hermione said in the nicest possible tone. "I'm Hermione Granger, a friend of Harry Potter."
She saw Ron roll his eyes. Kreacher continued his tirade without stopping:
"The girl is talking to Kreacher, her name is Granger, Granger, Kreacher doesn't know that name... She's not a witch, Kreacher knows all the Pureblood names, she's not one of them... This girl is a Mudblood, what would my mistress say..."
Hearing the insult, everyone let out a cry of protest. Hermione said nothing, too disturbed: she knew the elf wasn't in his right mind, but it was always unpleasant to hear that name.
"Hey!" Ron shouted in disgust. "Don't you dare call her that!"
"Kreacher, go upstairs and prepare the rooms for the guests. Quietly!" shouted Sirius.
As the elf walked out, still grumbling, Sirius turned to Hermione with a sheepish expression:
"I'm sorry, Hermione... Don't listen to him, he's completely senile..."
She nodded with a tight smile.
Sirius and Lupin helped the Weasleys to their room. As in the Burrow, Ginny and Hermione had to share a room, which didn't bother her at all; on the contrary, she was even a little reassured by Ginny's presence beside her.
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Hermione and the Weasleys soon understood why it was so necessary for them to move in. When Dumbledore had asked them to help, Hermione had never imagined how much cleaning they would have to do. Over the next few days, they had to scrub every room in the big house, ridding it of all the dirt, creatures and curses.
Bill and Arthur had to work every day, so Sirius, Lupin, Molly, Hermione, Ginny, Ron and the twins were the only ones who could clean every day. And Hermione hadn't had time to see it when she arrived, but the house was a mess. Everything, down to the furniture, was rotten. They had to throw a lot of things away, much to the chagrin of Kreacher, who cried whenever anything was taken from his precious mistress.
The mistress in question, Sirius' mother, had also managed to get her own portrait stuck in the middle of the downstairs hallway with a Permanent Sticking Charm. So they learned not to make any noise in the main corridor, at the risk of waking her up to a barrage of insults and shrill screams. Sirius, despite his best efforts, was unable to remove the cursed portrait.
For the rest of July, everyone worked hard to make the house a little more habitable. Not being able to use magic, Hermione, Ron and Ginny often inherited the most thankless and arduous tasks to be done by hand: dusting, sorting, cleaning.
In the last week of July, the house was deemed more acceptable and the Order of the Phoenix meetings began. To their great misfortune, the children were not invited. Mrs Weasley was particularly careful not to let any of them hear any information at these meetings, and if any of them tried to find out otherwise, she became very angry. This happened to the twins on many occasions.
Hermione didn't like that summer very much. She was bored in that hostile house. She felt guilty about being in London and not being able to go home to her house so close by. On top of that, she was insulted all day long, either by the portrait of Sirius' mother or by Kreacher. And even though she could apologise for the elf's behaviour, she had to admit that it hurt her heart every time.
Not being able to tell Harry was the hardest part. He sent several letters, each more urgent than the last. Hermione and Ron were forced to keep the details to themselves and deflect his questions by talking about something else, which was extremely difficult. To think of Harry alone in that house, with his horrible family, asking a thousand and one questions, feeling excluded... Hermione cried several times while writing her letters. On the 31st of July, she sent him a large box of Honeydukes chocolates to cheer him up, but she knew her best friend wanted answers, not sweets.
More than once, Hermione thought of going home. It was only thirty minutes by train from Grimmauld Square in Islington to her house. She was tempted to pretend she had to go and spend the rest of the summer in Hampstead Heath with Danny and her parents. But she didn't, for one reason: Ron.
Ron looked even more depressed than she did. It was the first time since second year that he hadn't spent the summer with Harry, and it was easy to guess that he missed his best friend a lot. He didn't understand Dumbledore's decision and came close to breaking it several times before Hermione reminded him what was at stake. He brooded in that dark house. He didn't smile, or eat as much as he used to. Hermione certainly couldn't leave, it would break his heart too much, and she could never do that to her best friend.
The only positive thing about the end of July was meeting someone in particular.
At the regular Order meetings, Hermione saw dozens of wizards pass by, some of whom she already knew: Lupin, Moody, McGonagall, Snape (when they saw him, she and Ron had exchanged a confused look). Some of them stayed for dinner, including a rather young Auror called Tonks.
Hermione and Ginny got on well with her from the first night. She was fascinating and always had a captivating story to tell. For the first few evenings after the meetings started, she was the only one who managed to warm up the atmosphere. She made everyone laugh, even Sirius, who had become a bit sullen. She told the girls about her years at Hogwarts, her path to becoming an Auror, and most importantly, she showed them her gift of Metamorphmagus, the ability to change her appearance at will.
But Tonks often left too soon, to take part in far more important missions than cleaning Grimmauld Square, leaving Hermione, Ginny, Ron and the twins alone and demoralised.
So Hermione cleaned again and again, remembering why she was doing it: to help the Order, to help Harry, to help Dumbledore, to help the war effort, even though she was excluded from all the meetings. And when she spent a long time on a particularly tedious task, Hermione allowed herself to escape into her own head, remembering all the little moments in the Library with Draco.
It was always easier when she thought of him.
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On the 2nd of August 1995, Hermione received some terrible news.
She had been asleep for over an hour, curled up under the thick blanket in the bed next to Ginny's, who was breathing softly and rocking Hermione to sleep. The room was dark and quiet. Crookshanks was curled up in a ball by Hermione's side, purring peacefully.
Everything was quiet.
... Until the door to the room flew open and Ron's voice rang through the room:
"Ginny, Hermione, wake up! There's an emergency!"
Hermione woke with a start. She caught a glimpse of Ron's silhouette in the doorway between her half-opened eyelids.
"What's going on?" muttered Ginny, still half asleep.
"It's about Harry!" he shouted.
Hearing this, both girls stood up in a single motion. Hermione was fully awake now. The panic in Ron's voice managed to raise her tension to its peak in the space of a few seconds.
"Harry? What happened to him? Ron?" she asked as she hurried out of the room.
"We don't know, Mum just told me... Come on, we need to go to the kitchen..."
Ron was pale, his eyes glassy. As he grabbed the railing to hurry down the stairs, Hermione saw that his hand was shaking. Ginny came down behind her, barely able to breathe.
Ron, Hermione and Ginny rushed into the kitchen shouting:
"What's happened? Is Harry all right? Where is he?"
They stopped suddenly when they saw the strangeness of the scene. Molly was sitting on one of the chairs at the kitchen table, in her pyjamas, her complexion as pale as her son's, her eyes blank. Sirius stood beside her, a hand on her shoulder as if to comfort her. His face was completely closed. It looked as if he was angry.
"Arthur just sent a Patronus..." Sirius began. "He said he'd be over shortly to give us the details."
"Details of what?" snapped Ron, on the verge of a nervous breakdown. "What happened to him?"
"Harry was attacked by Dementors tonight." Sirius announced coldly.
Hermione felt a sudden weight crush her, threatening to send her tumbling to the floor. Impulsively, she grabbed Ron's hand.
"What?!" shouted Ron and Ginny at the same time.
"What's all the fuss about?" asked Fred and George, who had just entered the room yawning.
"Harry's been attacked by Dementors!"
"What? How can that be?" asked George, his yawn abruptly stopped in surprise.
There was a loud creaking and the front door opened. Arthur entered the house, visibly disturbed and still dressed in his work clothes, suggesting he hadn't returned from the office that evening. As soon as they saw him, everyone rushed to ask him questions.
"A Dementor?!" exclaimed Ron, "Dad, you've got to explain!"
"I will! Out of the way, Merlin!"
Arthur rushed into the kitchen to stand beside his wife. Molly hadn't moved, as if paralysed. Sirius nearly threw himself at Mr Weasley:
"What happened, Arthur?"
Instead of looking around the room, Arthur addressed his wife directly:
"Harry and his cousin were attacked by Dementors tonight in his Muggle neighbourhood." Arthur announced gravely.
"A Muggle neighbourhood?!" repeated Ginny.
"Yes. We don't know why they were there or who sent them. Harry managed to ward them off with a Patronus. He's fine."
Hearing this, everyone let out a sigh of relief.
"How could he have been attacked?" snapped Sirius, not at all relieved. "Where is Mondingus? Wasn't he supposed to be looking after Harry tonight?"
"Yes, but no one knows where he is." said Arthur, his face scrunched up in anger as he said this. "He has escaped. Luckily, Arabella Figg was close enough to take him home."
"Oh, that Mondingus, I'll kill him!" cried Molly, suddenly furious. "How could he do that? How could he leave Harry alone? Merlin knows what might have happened to him! Oh, Harry!"
She burst into tears with emotion. She covered her face with her hands and tried to compose herself as Mr Weasley gently stroked her back to calm her.
"That's not all." he explained after a few seconds, and the hairs on Hermione's arms stood up straight at the sound of his serious voice. "The Ministry saw that Harry was practising magic and they sent him a letter to tell him... That he has been expelled from Hogwarts."
She opened her eyes wide and protested in a high-pitched voice:
"But that's not fair! He had no choice, he did it to defend himself!"
Everyone nodded in agreement.
"They sent a team straight to the Dursleys house to destroy his wand." Arthur finished. "He's also been summoned to a disciplinary hearing."
Ron let out a choked exclamation and squeezed Hermione's hand tightly against his. She felt tears in her eyes. Hogwarts without Harry... it wasn't possible...
"Bloody Fudge!" snapped Sirius, pounding his fist on the kitchen table. "They're doing this to keep him out! We've got to go, now! Kids, get ready, we're going to Little Whinging right now, get him out of his aunt and uncle's house, like I've been telling Dumbledore for years..."
"No, Sirius! We can't do that, and you know it!" protested Arthur, grabbing his arm to stop him. "Listen to me! Dumbledore fixed the problem, he arrived at the Ministry ten minutes after Harry received the letter, and he convinced the Misuse of Magic Department to wait until the hearing to determine the punishment Harry will have to endure..."
"But he shouldn't have to face any punishment at all!" objected Sirius, still shouting. "He's done nothing wrong, he's the one who was attacked by Dementors!"
"We know, Sirius!" replied Arthur in the same tone. "But you're not helping him by coming and getting him from the Dursleys, you're just giving Dumbledore more work to get him out of an already complicated situation!"
Sirius slammed his fist down on the table again and stood in front of the kitchen window, muttering something intelligible. Hermione thought she heard the words 'like last time' and 'Dumbledore'.
Arthur sighed and turned back to the children in front of him:
"Harry's all right. That's the most important thing. We'll have to trust Dumbledore to get him out of this."
"Can we send him a letter? Just a note, anything?" asked Ron, almost sounding like a plea.
When his father shook his head in the negative, Ron withdrew his hand from Hermione's and clenched his fist in anger.
"I'm sorry." Arthur said sadly. "Dumbledore's orders. But I sent him a letter saying that we were sorting things out and that he really wasn't allowed to leave the house or use magic again."
Sirius chuckled sarcastically a little further away. Arthur then turned to him:
"Sirius, send him one too. Reassure him, he'll listen to you."
Despite his anger, Harry's godfather nodded and took out a quill to write a short note telling Harry to stay at home. He hung it on an owl, which flew away, and the room was suddenly silent again.
After a long moment, Mrs Weasley sniffed and said without looking at them:
"Children, go back to bed. We'll let you know if anything changes. All right?"
Hermione, Ron, Ginny and the twins nodded, too exhausted to challenge the order.
The five of them obviously regrouped in the twins' room, who had placed a Silence Charm around their bed. Together, they discussed what had just happened. They talked for a long time. When Ron fell asleep on Hermione's shoulder, they agreed to talk about it the next day, and they each went back to bed.
But Hermione was unable to fall asleep again.
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When Hermione arrived in the kitchen early the next morning, she was surprised to see that it was much busier than the day before: there was Lupin, Moody, Snape, McGonagall, Tonks, Mr and Mrs Weasley and other people from the Order that Hermione did not know. Thinking she was walking into the middle of a meeting, she turned and stammered shyly:
"Oh, excuse me..."
"Don't apologise Hermione, you're not interrupting anything." Lupin reassured her. "We have some news about Harry."
Hearing this, Hermione instantly forgot her embarrassment at being in her pyjamas in front of her Potions teacher and turned sharply:
"What news?"
"We're getting him out." Tonks said proudly, her hair white this time. "Dumbledore gave us permission. He can come here."
Hermione didn't hide her relief. She sat down at the kitchen table and Mrs Weasley poured her a large pot of tea. As everyone worked out a plan to get him out of there, Ron's mother leaned over to her:
"He's coming home." she murmured with a smile.
Hermione smiled too, for the first time in a long time.
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But of course, the day Harry finally arrived was not the heart-warming reunion they had all expected. Harry was furious, and no one could blame him. After all, he'd been ostracised all summer, starved by his monstrous family who refused to give him proper food, and traumatised by the events of the end of the previous year. So Hermione and Ron let him shout at them when he finally arrived at Grimmauld Place.
"WHO HAD TO GET PAST DRAGONS AND SPHINXES AND EVERY OTHER FOUL THING LAST YEAR? WHO SAW HIM COME BACK? WHO HAD TO ESCAPE FROM HIM? ME!"
Hermione watched helplessly as her best friend became agitated. Ron, next to her, froze in shock.
"BUT WHY SHOULD I KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON? WHY SHOULD ANYONE TELL ME WHAT'S BEEN HAPPENING?" he continued, more enraged than ever.
"Harry, we wanted to tell you, we really did..." stammered Hermione.
She knew that these words would have no effect: Harry's anger ran far too deep for him to be calmed by reason. He needed to scream, to spit out the anger and fear that had built up over the last few days.
"CAN'T'VE WANTED TO THAT MUCH, CAN YOU, OR YOU'D HAVE SENT ME AN OWL, BUT DUMBLEDORE MADE YOU SWEAR..."
"Well, he did..." said Ron.
"FOUR WEEKS I'VE BEEN STUCK IN PRIVET DRIVE, NICKING PAPERS OUT OF BINS TO TRY AND FIND OUT WHAT'S BEEN GOING ON..." Harry continued, stepping around Ron's bed so as not to look at them as he said this.
"We wanted..." Hermione began, about to cry at any moment.
"I SUPPOSE YOU'VE BEEN HAVING A REAL LAUGH, HAVEN'T YOU, ALL HOLED UP HERE TOGETHER!" shouted Harry, pointing around the room with a wave of his hand.
"No, we didn't..." said Ron.
"Harry, we're so sorry!" assured Hermione, feeling tears of despair well up in her eyes. "You're absolutely right, Harry... I'd be furious if I were you!"
Harry glared at her and turned to Hedwig. Hermione let out a choked sob. She knew Harry was angry, and she understood perfectly why, but it was still hard to see him so hurt. For the first time in her life, she felt a wave of hatred for her Headmaster. She still couldn't understand why Harry was always left out when he was the main key. He deserved to know.
Even after Harry had calmed down and the twins and Ginny had joined them to tell her the latest news, Hermione still felt terrible.
She kept thinking about what he had said, about spending the summer alone, without any news, cut off from the world. His shouting at her was a punishment she deserved, she thought. She'd spent July talking to Draco, spending the day with him in London, and she'd forgotten all about the outside world. She had forgotten her best friend, all alone. She could have gone to see him, she could have gotten him out of there. She could have found a way to send him messages, to bend the rules... But she had done nothing, because she was obsessed with another boy. And Harry's enemy, on top of that.
The guilt gnawed at her terribly, day after day. Cleaning the house, not being able to go to the Order meetings, wanting to go home, all of it was erased by the guilt. She couldn't stop thinking of all the ways she could have spared Harry this month of waiting. She blamed herself for writing long letters to Draco when she could have written them to Harry.
On the day of his hearing at the Ministry, Hermione waited nervously at the kitchen table. She felt as if she was under so much stress that it was eating away at her insides. She looked around the kitchen and thought of all the things she could do if Harry was expelled. She'd run away with him if he'd have her. So much for Hogwarts, so much for the OWLs. So much for Draco.
When Harry and Mr Weasley returned to the kitchen after what seemed like days of waiting, Harry gave them a small smile that instantly lifted Hermione's heart.
"I knew it!" cried Ron, punching the air with his fist. "You always get away with
stuff!"
Hermione fell silent, unable to utter a word. She was so relieved that she burst into tears uncontrollably.
"For people who were sure I would get away with it, you all look pretty relieved to me." Harry said with a smile.
As everyone danced and expressed their joy that Harry had been cleared, Hermione inwardly thanked Merlin, God, or whatever guardian angel she had. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," she repeated over and over in her head.
On this day, Hermione made a promise to herself. A Granger promise.
Never again would I let my beliefs and my friendships come second, even to Draco Malfoy.
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After Harry was officially acquitted on the 12th of August, life in Grimmauld Square returned to normal. Hermione still felt that oppressive guilt, so to "punish" herself, she refused to think about Draco. She stopped distracting herself by imagining what he was doing all day. She cleaned without thinking, just to get a good feel for how hard the work was. He didn't need her worrying about him. He had a big house, friends, a huge library and a piano. He wasn't having a bad summer. Harry deserved a lot more attention than he was getting.
Harry quickly got used to the strange life in this house. Hermione suspected that Sirius's presence helped to calm him down. But even though he was in a better mood than he had been since his arrival, Hermione could see that he was more hurt than before. He didn't smile like he used to, and sometimes he would isolate himself in rooms that were too crowded to be alone.
Whenever she saw this, she felt guilty again.
So August was complicated, slow and painful. Ginny was tired of cleaning and complained all the time. Fred and George fought constantly with their mother, who didn't approve of their involvement with the Order. When she found out they were using the Extended Ears to eavesdrop on meetings, Mrs Weasley was furious for three days in a row and barricaded the door with a Spell of Impassability. Ron was in better shape now that Harry was back, but he still had that sullen look on his face that was so unlike him. And Hermione was silent, worried about her best friend and suffering from terrible insomnia.
So morale was at an all-time low when, towards the end of August, Fred and George entered Ginny and Hermione's room one evening.
"We've had enough." they said in unison.
"Enough' of what?" asked Ginny, who was brushing her hair.
"Cleaning!" cried Fred. "Do you know what we did this morning? We got rid of the Doxies that were infesting the curtains in the second floor office. And do you know what we did this afternoon? We got rid of the Doxies that were infesting the curtains in the room at the end of the corridor. Oh, and do you know what we did this evening?"
"Let me guess, hunting Doxies?" asked Ginny with a bitter laugh.
"Exactly." resumed George. "We can't take any more Doxies. I've got the taste of spray in my mouth from smelling it so much today."
"What are you doing here?" asked Ron, who had just walked in with Harry.
"Close the door." Fred ordered. "We came to complain."
"You want to complain?" asked Ron sarcastically, sitting down on the bed next to Hermione. "You had the easiest job today! At least you can use magic!"
"The only magic we could have used today was a good Incendio to burn all those bloody curtains." George grumbled. "We had to do it like Muggles because Mum confiscated our wands."
"Muggles would never have sprayed that on the curtains." Hermione objected.
"Whatever. I'm sick of looking at curtains all day." George sighed. "Who wants to test our practical jokes?"
Everyone shook their heads.
"Absolutely not. I've already given it a try." Ron said firmly.
Three days earlier, he'd accidentally eaten a Puking Pastille, thinking it was a simple sweet. As a result, he'd been sick all day because the twins hadn't found the right formula for the antidote yet.
"What can we do, then?" Fred moaned. "We're bored!"
Everyone thought in silence, except Hermione, who was reading a book in bed. Suddenly, Ron called out:
"The bet!"
"What bet?" asked Harry.
"Ron!" exclaimed Fred, her eyes gleaming with happiness. "Ron, for once in your short life, you've had a brilliant idea!"
"Er... thank you." the redhead replied, his eyebrows furrowed.
"I've got just the thing!" said George excitedly, before quickly leaving the room.
He returned two minutes later. Looking up from her book, Hermione saw that he was holding an old broom. It took her a full minute to realise why everyone was looking at her with that look of impatience.
"Oh NO." she said sharply.
"I'm afraid you don't have a choice, Hermione." Fred announced with a falsely sad pout.
"That's out of the question."
"Hermione, you lost." Ron called back. "You don't have a choice, you have to get on the broom."
"But I'll hit the ceiling!"
"There's a courtyard outside!" said George, looking out the window of the room. "We'll just go there, no one will see us, everyone's asleep."
"Muggles live right next door!"
"No one will look in the courtyard!" said Fred. "The lights are out, everyone's asleep! Come on, Mione, just fly for a minute!"
"And maybe do a little loop." George suggested.
"No way, it's too risky." Hermione disagreed, and picked up her book again.
"Come on, Mione, it might cheer us up, we're all so demoralised..." said Ron, taking the book from her hands.
"How would seeing me on a broom cheer you up?" she asked, annoyed.
"For many reasons." said Fred, who immediately began to list them: "Humiliation, for one. The memory of those summer days playing Quidditch in the garden. The memory of Hermione Granger, the first Hogwarts student, riding a broom. The creation of a memory we'll all cherish for years to come. The satisfaction of a promise fulfilled..."
"It's... Ginny, help me!" pleaded Hermione, turning to her best friend.
Ginny bit her lip, obviously hesitating.
"Oh, Mione, I'm sorry, I know you're afraid of heights and all... But it does looks like fun..."
The brunette grunted when she heard that her only potential support was on the other side. She looked at each of them in turn, then muttered:
"No higher than six feet. Is that clear?"
Hearing this, everyone shouted with delight, but not too loudly so as not to wake the house. Fred and George went down first to check that the coast was clear, then Ron, Harry, Ginny and Hermione took their turn at the stairs, as carefully as possible. George opened the back door and the six of them found themselves in a tiny patch of garden at the back of the house. A summer breeze blew through Hermione's hair. They hadn't been outside for so long that they all enjoyed the fresh air for a few seconds.
"Where did you get that broom, anyway?" asked Harry, inspecting the handle.
"In the attic." George replied with a shrug. "We found it when Mum asked us to get some sheets up there. It looks old, but it's not in too bad of shape."
"It's a Cleansweep!" Ron realised as he saw the mark carved into the wood. "Not bad, eh? Who do you think it belongs to?"
"No idea." said Ginny.
"Anyway, it's yours now, Mione." Fred said with a big smile, handing her the broom in question.
Hermione gripped the handle with both hands. It was the first time she had held one since her flying lessons. As she felt it vibrate, a shiver of fear ran down her spine.
"Do you even know how to ride it?" asked George with a sarcastic smile.
Hermione glared at him. She placed the end of the broom on the floor and swung her right leg over the handle on tiptoe.
"I can't believe I'm doing this in my pyjamas." she muttered, more to herself than anyone else.
"Come on, Mione, don't be such a wuss, it's only a broom!" said Ron with a mocking laugh.
"Hermione's afraid of heights, you idiot!" yelled Ginny, turning to her brother. "If I put a spider under your pillow and told you it was just a spider, would you laugh?"
Ron immediately stopped laughing and looked at his sister in horror. Harry burst out laughing at the look on his face.
"You wouldn't do that, would you?" he asked in a low voice.
Ginny rolled her eyes and looked at Fred and George:
"Can I at least ride with her?"
"Sorry, little sister, but the terms of the wager stipulate that Hermione must do it alone." George decided relentlessly.
"Thank you, Ginny." Hermione said, her stomach knotting at the thought of taking off.
She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing. Then, she gently tapped the ground with her left foot and felt the broom rise a few inches off the ground. Her socks brushed the grass one last time and she was in the air.
"Open your eyes, Mione!" Ron advised.
She obeyed. Looking down, she saw that she was more than six feet off the ground. She could almost reach the upstairs window. She wanted to scream in surprise, but the exclamation caught in her throat.
"Don't look down!" Ginny said, so Hermione looked up.
From where she was, she could see the entire interior of the Muggle flat next door. The whole living room was dark and the window to the room was closed. Hermione sighed, relieved that no Muggle could see her flying like this. They could be in big trouble if they were seen, a possibility that worried her almost more than being so high up.
She felt her bottom slide gently against the broomstick and grabbed it with all her strength to keep from falling. Suddenly, she remembered Draco's advice, written in italics in one of his letters: "Lean back as far as you can. You won't be able to see the ground and you'll be less likely to slip on the handle.
She could almost hear his voice in her ear.
She took his advice and leaned back, despite her desire to push forward. The broom straightened and Hermione could see the stars above her head.
"How do I do this?" she squeaked in a choked voice. "How do I get down?"
For any answer, she saw a flash. Looking down, she saw Fred holding a camera.
"FRED!" she moaned a little louder. "Stop taking pictures and tell me how to get down there!"
"Sorry, that was for anyone who wanted a signed photo." he replied. She could see his mischievous grin just by hearing his voice.
"All you have to do is lean the handle forward." Harry said.
Hermione felt her stomach clench as she heard this. Her legs were shaking in her pyjama bottoms.
"I'm scared!"
"Hermione, you're six feet up." George said in an amused tone. "Even if you fall, you won't feel a thing."
It wasn't a very reassuring thought, but it helped Hermione pull herself together. Thinking of all the Gryffindors she knew, she gathered her courage and leaned her weight on the handle. She immediately lost altitude. As she felt the toes of her socks touch the grass, she tumbled backwards and landed on her bottom.
"A landing worthy of the most talented players of our generation." commented George as he helped her to her feet.
"Could I have your autograph, Miss Granger?" asked Fred, handing her the photo of herself, her legs pressed against the broomstick, her eyes closed.
She couldn't help but burst out laughing with the others.