Mon ange gardien

by virgules

We all know what Harry went through during his years at Hogwarts. But what happened where he wasn't looking? A love affair between his best friend and his nemesis...? Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy, from first to seventh year, gradually fall in love during the real books. Chapter every Sunday evening!

67. 67 : the Dilemma of Draco Malfoy

tw : Umbridge

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Draco

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"It's Weasley?! The Gryffindor Prefect is Weasley?" whispered Pansy in Draco's ear in an outraged tone.

Draco had been so caught up in his vision of Granger sitting in the row in front of him that he hadn't even noticed who was with her. And indeed, when he looked at the chair to his left, he recognised Weasley's red hair. He raised his eyebrows. He suspected Granger would be Prefect (who else could it be if it wasn't her?), but he certainly hadn't expected Weasley to be the other Gryffindor.

"He's as stupid as Crabbe and Goyle!" Pansy continued in a whisper. "I was sure it would be Potter!"

"So did I..."

"Hey you, over there!" the Head Girl snapped, pointing at Pansy and Draco. "Got something to say? An objection to the rules, perhaps?"

Draco immediately decided that he hated this girl.

"No, not at all." Pansy replied in the honeyed tone she usually reserved for professors she was trying to impress. "I was just wondering: in what cases would we be required to take points off?"

"Ah. Er... We'll get to that." the Ravenclaw said, clearly not expecting Pansy to answer.

Pansy gave her a fake smile and continued whispering as soon as the Head-Girl continued her explanation:

"Theo will be furious. When he finds out that Weasley was elected Prefect and he wasn't..."

"Is he talking to you again?" muttered Draco, turning to his best friend.

"Yeah, a bit." she replied without looking at him.

"And why is he still ignoring me?"

"I don't know, I guess he's... a bit jealous."

"Jealous?" repeated Draco, stunned. "I'm not the one who chose to be Prefect, Merlin! It's Snape he needs to be sulking about!"

"Yes, but you know Theo... He's upset, and he needs someone to blame. Whether it's you is a-"

"Will you two stop talking?" the Head Girl asked impatiently, now reading a clause from the school rules.

This time Pansy said nothing and sat up straight in her chair, pretending to listen. Granger then subtly turned her head to give Draco a stern look, and Draco almost burst out laughing at the look of authority on her face. It was always a thrill to see Granger so serious.

As the two Head Boy's continued a stream of words that Draco didn't listen to, he looked at Granger's wavy hair. She hadn't tied it up that day and Draco realised that he liked it when she let her hair down like that. She was more... Granger.

He wasn't sure why his thoughts took such a nostalgic turn, probably because he was on the Hogwarts Express, but Draco suddenly remembered the first time he'd seen Granger. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he remembered her tousled hair and rosy cheeks, something he'd never seen before. He also remembered thinking she had an annoyingly high-pitched voice. He didn't know it then, but it was his favourite voice now. He would give anything to hear it again. He hadn't heard her voice for so long...

From the first time he saw her, he knew she would be a prefect. She was destined for the role, no one else deserved to be Prefect more than Granger. Merlin, even the boring Head Girl in front of him deserved it less than Granger.

Seeing her jotting down the rules on a notebook, he stifled a laugh.

"What's so funny?" asked Pansy immediately in a whisper.

"Nothing." he replied, looking away.

"It's boring, isn't it?" she asked, crossing her legs in an impatient gesture. "Do you think this is going to last..."

"Miss Parkinson, could you repeat what I've just said?" the Head Girl asked when she saw Pansy talking.

"That you shouldn't abuse your position to take away more points than necessary." Pansy replied quickly, staring into the Ravenclaw's eyes.

She could only stammer out a "good" and resumed her reading.

"I hate her!" Pansy whispered into Draco's ear. "Why does she always pick on me?"

"Maybe because you're always talking." Draco said with a chuckle.

"Well, obviously, we're bored to death here..."

She took out her little pocket mirror and checked her lipstick. Draco focused on the meeting again:

"... - The rounds will be in pairs, with a boy prefect and a girl prefect. You'll need to keep an eye on the Castle corridors to make sure each student is in their Common Room before curfew. As a reminder, curfew is 8pm for first and second years, 8.30pm for third and fourth years and 9pm for the rest."

Draco and Pansy giggled at the same time. Neither of them had respected the curfew since their first year.

"Any student found in the corridors after curfew will have points deducted or even detention if it's a repeat offence." continued the Head Boy, a Gryffindor Draco had never seen before. "When you're on rounds, you'll be expected to inspect every corridor until 11:30."

"Since there are six prefects per House, you'll have about two or three rounds a month." the Ravenclaw continued. "But you won't necessarily be paired with the Prefect of your House, you can be paired with a Prefect from another House, but always from your year."

Draco saw Granger scribbling down this information in her small notebook at breakneck speed.

"The round schedule will be posted in your Common Rooms and the Transfiguration class a month in advance." the Gryffindor explained. "You can, of course, swap rounds amongst yourselves if one of them doesn't fit in with an extra-curricular activity, for example."

"Do parties count?" asked Pansy sarcastically in Draco's ear.

The Head Boy and Head Girl then handed out leaflets summarising what they had just said and the schedule of rounds for September. Granger grabbed it as soon as she got it and analysed it with the utmost concentration. Draco saw Weasley laughing at her, but she ignored him magnificently.

Pansy put the paper away without even looking at it, impatient to get the meeting over with. Draco glanced at it, looking for her name:

Wednesday 10th September: Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson.

Friday 19th September: Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger.

Tuesday 29th September: Ernie MacMillan and Draco Malfoy.

The coincidence was too good to be true. He automatically looked up at Granger when he saw their names side by side and met her gaze. Obviously she had seen the line too. She looked away immediately and listened to Weasley beside her instead, but Draco could see that she was pensive.

A round with Granger until eleven thirty at Hogwarts. What more could he want?

"Thank you all for listening." the insufferable Ravenclaw said. "Don't forget, it's imperative that you keep an eye on the students when the train arrives, especially the first years, who will probably be a bit lost. Oh, and of course, you will have access to the prefects' bathroom on the fifth floor. The password is "Fleur de lin". Don't tell anyone else, of course!"

The meeting ended and all the students stood up at the same time.

"Shall we go?" offered Pansy as soon as she got up. "I'm starving."

"Yeah, let's go."

Draco stuffed the leaflet back into his bag and took one last look at Granger. He was surprised to see her deep in conversation with Ernie MacMillan, the Ravenclaw prefect. He frowned. He hadn't realised Granger was so popular. He didn't like it very much.

He decided right away that he hated Ernie MacMillan.

Pansy opened the carriage door and he was forced to follow her. She walked down the corridor and stopped at a compartment where she opened the door.

"It was shit, and boring." she announced as soon as she entered. "They should have just given us the leaflet."

Draco entered behind her. Blaise, Theo, Crabbe and Goyle were already sitting on the benches. Seeing Theo's face, Draco knew he wasn't done sulking. The presence of Crabbe and Goyle was hardly likely to cheer him up. Draco and Pansy sat down on the bench opposite Theo and Blaise.

"So? Who are the other prefects?" asked Blaise, putting down his Quidditch magazine to listen to Pansy.

"Goldstein and the twin Patil for Ravenclaw." Pansy listed without hesitation. "MacMillan and Abbott for Hufflepuff..."

"Abbott?" Blaise repeated with a slight smile.

"Yeah, why?"

"The pretty one?" he asked with an amused gleam in his eye.

"Merlin, Blaise, she's in Hufflepuff!" cried Pansy in a tone of disgust.

"So what if she is? It never bothered me."

"You went out with my best friend, you know I'm not supposed to know details like that!" moaned Pansy.

"Sorry. Go on." he replied simply, without losing his mischievous smile.

Pansy continued her list, counting on her fingers:

"Granger in Gryffindor..."

Draco noticed that Pansy had spat out his name as if it were poisonous.

"Obviously." Blaise said, nodding.

"And Weasley." concluded Pansy.

"Weasley?" exclaimed Theo, abruptly putting down his book. "Are you kidding?"

He'd obviously overheard the whole conversation.

"Yes, Weasley. We were sure it was going to be Potter." Pansy said with a shrug.

"Maybe someone finally realised that Potter wasn't the perfect student they were trying to sell us." Blaise said jokingly. "I mean, he never gets detention, even though he's always at the centre of trouble."

"But putting Weasley in his place?" retorted Pansy. "Dumbledore's really lost it."

Everyone nodded in agreement, including Crabbe and Goyle, who were struggling to follow the conversation.

"Weasley..." Theo repeated indignantly. "Really..."

Pansy was right: he was angry. He carefully avoided looking at Draco, as if he didn't exist, and picked up his book again, pretending to read.

Draco understood why he was upset, but his reactions were really starting to annoy him. It wasn't his fault that he had been made Prefect! Why was he talking to Pansy, and not him?

He decided to ignore him too, and the room fell silent. Without really knowing why, Draco was furious. And when he looked down and saw his badge on his robes, he let out a grunt and quickly removed it. This role of prefect definitely wasn't as much fun as he'd thought it would be the day before.

He turned to the window and tried to think of something else. His thoughts immediately turned to the strange dog at the station. It had been acting very oddly and Draco was convinced that there was something behind it. He had never seen Potter with a dog before. He would have remembered.

"Hey, does Potter have a dog?" asked Draco to Pansy, who was half lying on top of him.

Pansy frowned. Draco realised that the carriage had been in silence for a very long time and that it was strange to interrupt it with this question. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Blaise and Theo giving him a confused look.

"Er, no? Dogs aren't allowed at Hogwarts." Pansy replied.

"I know that." Draco replied, a little louder than he would have liked. "But I saw him with a dog at the station."

"You must have been dreaming." Blaise interjected. "Maybe it was a cat?"

"Believe me, it really wasn't a cat." Draco said, remembering the impressive size of the beast.

"And you're sure it was Potter's?" asked Theo, suddenly forgetting that he wasn't supposed to be talking to him.

"Yes! He was playing with it! It was huge, it must have been three times his size!"

"Are you sure it wasn't Lupin who transformed a little too soon?" asked Pansy with a small laugh, picking up her Crystal Ball magazine again.

"No!" replied Draco, but he realised that no one in the compartment was listening to him.

Blaise had also returned to his reading, and Crabbe and Goyle were both chatting to each other. Only Theo was paying attention to what he was saying, but when he saw that he was the only one, he sank back onto the bench and returned to his sulky silence.

After a few minutes, Draco could still feel the anger bubbling under his skin, so he suddenly stood up, jostling Pansy as he did so.

"Hey! Where are you going?" she asked, surprised by his sudden movement.

"I'm going to... Stretch my legs." Draco said as he crossed the compartment to reach the door. "Goyle, Crabbe...?"

The two boys stood up at once, as happy as ever to be there. Blaise sighed:

"Are you going to bother Potter again? Dray, after all these years...?"

"I want to know what's behind that dog!"

Blaise just rolled his eyes. Pansy no longer paid any attention to the conversation, too absorbed in her horoscopes.

However, as Draco pushed open the door and stepped into the corridor, he could clearly hear Theo's sarcastic remark behind his back:

"Good example, prefect."

Draco said nothing in response and stepped into the corridor, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. But anger consumed him from within. Theo's sarcastic phrase was seared into his skull.

He Occluded, and all the affection he felt for Theo, his best friend, disappeared from his mind.

"Is it true, Draco? Are we really going to annoy Potter?" asked Goyle, cracking his knuckles in a threatening gesture.

In truth, Draco had still not come to terms with what Crabbe and Goyle had done to Granger just before the Third Task. He could barely look them in the eye. But with his mind so drained, it was always easier to bear them.

"Yeah." he grumbled, shoving a first year out of his way.

He had no trouble finding Potter's compartment: it was always the most crowded on the train. Opening the door, he found Longbottom, Weaslette, Weasley, Potter, Granger and a blonde girl he'd never seen before. In addition to all these people, there were two owls, Granger's cat and a toad. No black dog.

"What do you want?" blurted out Potter when he saw him coming.

Draco looked at him and smiled mockingly. Potter had always been thin, but on this day it was striking. He looked more tired than ever.

"Manners, Potter, or I'll have to give you detention." Draco taunted.

Then he subtly shifted his gaze to Granger: she was flushed. He didn't know if she was uncomfortable seeing him, or if he had just missed an embarrassing moment for her. They looked at each other, she ashamed, he angry.

Seeing her pushed aside all the emotions he felt at that moment.

For a second, all he could see was her. The carriage around them was empty, his whole being sucked into her chocolate eyes and flushed cheeks. He thought of his own words that summer. Granger, I am in love with you.

Was she thinking it too?

She looked away. Draco blinked and swept his eyes over the rest of the carriage. There was that blonde girl he didn't recognise and he noticed she was holding her magazine upside down. Why was Granger hanging out with this girl?

He turned his attention back to Potter:

"You see, unlike you, I have been made prefect, which means, unlike you, I have the power to hand out punishments."

In a second, he realised he'd hit a nerve. Granger rolled his eyes, Weasley cringed in his seat and Weaslette frowned in what she must have thought was a threatening expression.

"Yeah." Potter replied. "But you, unlike me, are a git, so get out and

leave us alone."

The compartment erupted in laughter. Draco felt the anger rise again, even stronger. He could hear Crabbe growling behind him.

"Tell me, how does it feel being second best to Weasley, Potter?" he spat.

Weasley stopped laughing immediately. He looked worriedly at his best friend. Draco was right: he had hit a nerve. The prefect election must not have been a fun night for them either...

"Shut up, Malfoy." Granger replied sharply.

It was the first time he'd heard her voice since she'd said goodbye to him in Hampstead Park. It was high-pitched, as it always was when she was angry, but this time Draco didn't enjoy it as much as usual. This time he hated the voice, for it was full of resentment.

He realised to his horror that this was the first time Granger had dared to speak to him like that in front of her precious Potters and Weasleys. And that hurt as much as it angered him.

He Occluded to avoid showing how affected he was by it.

"I seem to have touched a nerve." he observed with a wry smile. "Well, just watch yourself, Potter, because I'll be dogging your footsteps in case you step out of line."

Granger's eyes widened and he knew he'd been right. There was something strange about that dog. Her reaction proved it.

"Get out!" she yelped, standing up abruptly.

She walked towards him, glancing at Crabbe and Goyle in succession just before closing the door, her features drooping slightly. Then she gave him the darkest, most venomous look she could muster and slammed the door in his face.

Draco knew what was on her mind. He could read her like a book. "How can you still be with them after what they did to me?"

Turning back, Draco told himself he had no fucking idea. How could he keep talking to them when they'd hurt Granger? How could he use them to provoke her?

He clenched and unclenched his fist several times, trying to work through all the emotions running through him: anger, guilt, regret. He'd got what he wanted. He'd managed to annoy Potter and Weasley and confirmed his doubts about that dog.

But why wasn't it as satisfying as he thought it would be? Why did it feel so wrong?

"There was no dog, Draco." Crabbe remarked once they were outside their compartment, in a proud tone, as if he had solved a particularly difficult riddle.

Draco did not react. As he put his hand on the handle of their compartment, he suddenly remembered Theo's attitude and stopped:

"You guys go ahead, I'll just... keep walking." Draco said evasively and walked away without giving them time to answer.

Draco walked down the corridor, not looking where he was going, and opened the door of the first empty compartment he saw. He sat down on the bench and leaned his head against the window, meditating to get Granger's dark gaze out of his mind.

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Draco returned to his compartment at the last minute. He quickly changed his clothes, pinned his badge to his uniform and stepped out into the corridor with Ebony's cage, who was sleeping. He was surprised to see that the corridor was packed.

"Why isn't it moving?" grumbled Pansy, who was trying to read her magazine in the middle of the line.

"Someone must be blocking it..." said Blaise, looking ahead of them. Being at least six inches taller than everyone else, it was easy to see over everyone else.

The line moved slowly forward. So slowly, in fact, that Draco started reading his horoscope over Pansy's shoulder. He was just getting to what was going to happen to him on the 19th when the door to the compartment to their right flew open and three first years rushed out. They pushed their way through, shoving Pansy hard as they went.

"Fuck!" she screamed in pain, dropping her magazine on the impact.

He'd kicked her in the ribs. As soon as Draco saw her frown in pain, he couldn't hold back: he grabbed the collar of the first year who'd hit her and yanked him back roughly. He turned him around and grabbed his front collar, lifting him a few inches off the ground because he was so light.

"Don't you feel like you've hit someone, you idiot?" shouted Draco.

The boy looked terrified. He struggled miserably, unable to escape Draco's grip. For once, Theo and Blaise did not comment on his behaviour: Blaise was also looking at the boy, angry that he might have hurt Pansy, and Theo was bending over her, casting a spell to heal her sore rib.

"Apologise!" growled Draco.

"So-sorry!" the first year shrieked, his eyes bulging.

Draco analysed Pansy's reaction sideways. She didn't reply, but her eyes flashed and her lips curled into an almost frightening grimace of hatred.

"Keep walking, and if you ever bump into anyone like that again, I'll have you in detention before you even get to the Castle." Draco said in his most menacing voice before setting the boy down again, who ran away as soon as his feet touched the ground.

"Are you all right, Pans'?" asked Blaise, bending down to pick up her magazine.

"I'm fine. But that little bastard almost tore my dress..."

Draco turned to see if the boy was still in front of them. But as he looked, he saw someone else, a few feet away. She was all red and her face was even more menacing than Pansy's had been a few seconds before. Granger turned and got off the train, and Draco muttered to himself. Of course she'd seen everything.

As he finally stepped onto the platform, Draco was greeted by the autumn breeze of Hogsmeade and inhaled the smell of dead leaves and pines around the Lake to calm himself. Then they walked in silence to the carriages. A small queue had already formed for each group to board, and Draco soon spotted Granger, who was now helping the first years to the boats to take them to Hogwarts. Her red and gold prefect badge shone brightly on her chest.

Weasley stood beside her, as useless as ever. He had the prefect posture of a baboon.

Draco, for his part, had completely forgotten that they were supposed to be helping the other students. Pansy had too, apparently, because she was still reading Crystal Ball as she walked. In any case, Granger was already doing it for them, guiding every lost student with a smile and a reassuring word.

But Draco knew her well enough to know that something was wrong. Her face was veiled, sad. As Pansy, Blaise, Theo, Crabbe and Goyle waited in the queue, Draco watched Granger quietly, trying to work out what was wrong. He had the answer fairly quickly. It wasn't Hagrid leading the first years to the boats, as in previous years. It was his replacement, a stern, dry woman who was anything but welcoming.

Hagrid wasn't there.

Draco had always hated Hagrid. Ever since his first year, he'd found him to be wild, unstable and a terrible teacher. On top of that, he'd been a little afraid of him ever since he'd found out the year before that he was half giant. But noticing his absence hurt a little, for some obscure reason he couldn't quite fathom. Perhaps because it made Granger sad?

"Dray, are you coming?"

Blaise was holding the carriage door for him. He thanked him vaguely and went inside. Theo was still reading and still sulking. So Draco preferred to watch the scenery pass by through the small window until he saw the outline of the Castle in the distance.

The Great Hall was, as every year, magnificently decorated for the start of the new school year. Draco looked at the floating candles as he walked. Above them, the sky was bathed in the twilight of the night.

Draco took his usual seat, opposite Pansy and to the left of Blaise. He was surprised to see that Granger was still accompanied by that strange girl with long blonde hair as they entered the Great Hall.

"That girl there..." Draco whispered in Pansy's ear, pointing at the Ravenclaw. "Is she new?"

Pansy turned to look in the direction indicated, then back at him, clearly surprised:

"No. Why do you ask?"

"First time I've seen her." Draco admitted with a shrug.

"Luna Lovegood, fourth year." Pansy informed him, knowing the identity of every Hogwarts student like the back of her hand. "Completely bonkers. Her father is the editor of that rubbish magazine, the Quibbler..."

Draco didn't know anything about the magazine, but he had no trouble believing Pansy. She turned her attention to something else, but Draco continued to watch the strange girl. He couldn't understand how Granger could like her. She'd never told him anything about her.

Granger also took her usual seat, which was conveniently placed directly opposite Draco. As she sat down, she smiled and greeted several other Gryffindors, including the two girls she shared a dormitory with. Draco frowned, still surprised by Granger's growing popularity: had she always had so many friends? Or was it because of her best friend?

"Who's that?" Theo asked suddenly, making Draco's head turn.

He hadn't paid much attention to the teachers' table until now. Dumbledore was sitting in the middle of the table as usual, dressed in a long purple robe emblazoned with stars. Around him sat all the usual teachers, except for Hagrid, who was conspicuous by his absence. His replacement was sitting in his place.

"Grubbly-Plank, Hagrid's replacement." said Pansy, looking in the same direction as Draco. "You know, she gave us a lecture on unicorns last year..."

"I'm not talking about her. I'm talking about the lady dressed in pink..."

When Blaise, Pansy and Draco looked where Theo was pointing, they all had the same reaction: a grimace of disgust. Draco had never seen so much pink on one person: from the ribbon in her hair, to her fluffy cardigan, to her powder pink ballet flats. He had no trouble imagining his mother's puckered lips if she could see this look.

"Merlin, that's the ugliest cardigan I've ever seen." Pansy yelped in disgust.

The woman had a slightly elongated head, like a giant toad. Her thin, fuchsia pink lips were curled into a tight smile.

"Defence Against the Dark Arts." Blaise guessed. "They managed to find us another gem."

The doors to the Great Hall opened with a bang and McGonagall entered, followed by about forty frightened children. They were all dressed in black and looked around with wide, astonished eyes. They walked to the front of the Hall and waited, trembling with fear, for the Sorting Ceremony to begin.

"Why are they so stressed?" hissed Pansy with a smug shake of her head.

"We were too." objected Theo.

"No, I wasn't." said Blaise, which was true: Blaise had been the only one to remain calm during the Sorting Ceremony five years earlier.

McGonagall then set down the famous stool and carefully placed the battered old Sorting Hat on it. The hat's mouth opened and it began to sing:

"In times of old when I was new

And Hogwarts barely started

The founders of our noble school

Thought never to be parted:

United by a common goal,

They had the selfsame yearning,

To make the world's best magic school..."

Draco stopped listening, uninterested in the words of a hat. It was about as stupid as when Granger's planning book had shouted at her to order her to work. He smiled at the memory and automatically turned his head in her direction.

She listened intently to every word the old hat said, as if it contained a hidden message to be guessed. Her eyebrows were furrowed and her hair was tousled by the wind outside. When the song was over, she exchanged a few sentences with Potter and Weasley, a worried look on her face, and then the Sorting Ceremony began. She applauded each time a student was assigned, even the Slytherins ones. But in reality she was thoughtful, calculating. Draco wondered what could be going on inside her head.

Like every year, Pansy and Blaise were playing the game of guessing which student would be placed where:

"Hufflepuff, for sure." Pansy whispered, pointing at the girl who had just climbed onto the stool.

"No, Gryffindor." Blaise countered, shaking his head.

"Are you kidding? Did you see how she mended her trousers? Hufflepuff."

"HUFFLEPUFF!" the Sorting Hat announced in a loud voice, and Pansy grinned a proud little smile.

"Fuck!" yelled Blaise with a disappointed pout.

Draco saw him slide a few coins across the table, and Pansy took them with delight.

Draco quickly grew bored with the game and returned to his discreet observation of Granger. She seemed to be growing impatient too, her applause a little less lively. Then suddenly, just as Rowan, Isidore was called, Granger turned her head towards him.

They exchanged a glance.

Even with three tables separating them, Draco felt that warm glow he always got when she was looking for him. At first, her chocolate eyes just widened, probably surprised that he was already looking at her. They stared at each other for a few seconds, so intensely that Draco thought she was only inches away from him. Then her eyes darkened and she frowned before abruptly looking away.

She was furious.

Draco sighed. He understood why she was angry. He'd been in her compartment with the two boys who'd hurt her and he'd insulted her fucking Potter. Her reaction was entirely appropriate.

A book in his mental library shook slightly and Draco opened it.

It was a warm summer's day, the air saturated with the smell of sunshine, fresh grass and mint ice-cream. Granger had small freckles on her nose, red cheeks and a pink mouth from the blackcurrant. They were standing at the entrance to the London Underground, surrounded by Muggle passers-by hurrying in and out. Draco remembered perfectly the hopeful tone of Granger's voice when she had asked him, "Will you come to the Library on the first day of classes?"

How could he have ruined everything? For the first time in his life, Draco regretted annoying Potter. He'd thought it would distract him from the anger he'd felt on the train. But when he saw Granger's glare, he realised that he had simply passed it on to the person he most wanted to see at the moment.

Suddenly there was a thunderous applause in the Great Hall that made Draco's seat shake. The Sorting Ceremony was over. Pansy had clearly won: she had a big, happy smile on her face and dug happily into her plate.

Draco helped himself and ate in silence. He lifted his head from time to time to watch Granger. She was talking to the Gryffindor ghost and occasionally glancing at Weasley. She didn't turn her head towards the Slytherins for the entire meal.

As the plates disappeared and Draco couldn't hold back a yawn at the thought of his comfy bed waiting for him in the dungeons, Dumbledore stood up and cleared his throat, breaking the silence in the assembly.

"Now that we are all busy digesting another of our sumptuous feasts, I would ask you to give me a few moments of your attention so that I can give you the traditional recommendations for the start of the year." Dumbledore explained. "New students should be aware that the Forest in the Park is off-limits. It wouldn't hurt if some of our older students remembered that as well..."

Potter, Weasley and Granger exchanged knowing smiles.

"Mr Filch, the Caretaker, has asked me to remind you, for what he believes is the four hundred and sixty second time, that the use of magic is not permitted in the corridors between school hours, and that many other things are also forbidden, the full list of which is now posted on his office door."

Blaise chuckled softly.

"We have two new teachers this year. I'm particularly pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be teaching Care of Magical Creatures. I'm also pleased to introduce Professor Umbridge, who will be teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts."

The pink lady smiled when she heard her name and Draco suddenly remembered where he had heard of her:

"My father told me about her!" he whispered to his friends.

Theo and Blaise frowned at him.

"Did he?"

"Yes, he told me she worked at the Ministry, I think..." said Draco, trying to remember his father's words from that morning. "She was in Slytherin. He told me I absolutely had to side with her."

Pansy raised her eyebrows:

"That woman?!"

Apparently, the fact that she was wearing a pink cardigan was proof enough for Pansy that she was not to be trusted.

"The trials for the constitution of the Quidditch teams of each of the four Houses will take place on..."

The pink lady, Umbridge, coughed. Despite her small stature, her "hum hum" could be heard throughout the Great Hall. Dumbledore politely sat down to let her speak.

"Thank you, dear Headmaster, for those kind words of welcome." she said in a childlike voice. "I must say it's a great pleasure to be back at Hogwarts and to see all those happy little faces looking up at me!"

Pansy burst out laughing. It had to be said that not one of the students at the four tables in the Great Hall had a happy face. They all looked at her as if she had come straight from another planet.

"I can't wait to meet all of you and I'm sure we're going to become very good friends very quickly." she continued in her shrill voice.

Draco immediately classified her as insufferable. Her voice, her clothes and the way she spoke as if she were addressing children were deeply annoying.

"The Ministry of Magic has always placed great importance on the education of young witches and wizards. The few gifts you may have received at birth would be of little use if they were not carefully nurtured and refined. The ancient knowledge that the community..."

Draco stopped listening, too tired to concentrate. Pansy was already reading her magazine under the table, and Blaise was lazily looking around at the other students, his chin resting on his hand. Gradually, all the students in the Great Hall lost their attention and began talking to each other or staring at the ceiling, lost in their thoughts. Soon, Umbridge had no one to listen to her except for the school's two nerds: Granger and Theo.

Theo listened intently to her entire speech, as if trying to decide whether he liked this woman or not. Granger, on the other hand, had her eyebrows furrowed, and a clear look of horror on her face as she listened to Umbridge. When Umbridge had (finally) finished speaking, Granger turned grimly to Potter and Weasley to express her thoughts. At the same time, Theo turned to Pansy, Blaise and Draco:

"I hate that woman." he announced without preamble.

"Me too, but I didn't have to listen to her speech to understand that." Blaise said with a shrug.

"Do you know what that means?" continued Theo, looking as serious as Granger.

"That this woman has never opened a single fashion magazine in her life?" offered Pansy smugly.

"That, and that the Ministry has infiltrated Hogwarts." Theo said, probably expecting them to jump in fear. When he saw that none of them reacted, he let out an exasperated sigh: "Fudge has officially invaded Dumbledore's grounds. He's sent that woman to brainwash us into believing that You-Know-Who hasn't returned. I'm willing to bet my meagre savings that she'll disprove everything Potter says."

"That's good news, then, isn't it?" said Pansy evasively. "We like the Ministry, and we don't like Potter."

"Maybe, but I certainly don't want anyone telling me what to believe." growled Theo, clearly unhappy with the reactions.

"Let's wait and see." Blaise concluded, still the wisest of them all. "In the meantime, I'm going to bed, I'm exhausted."

He got up at the same time as everyone else and stretched. Draco understood his condition: his eyelids were falling out by themselves, and the meal he'd eaten was weighing on his stomach, making him drowsy.

"Pans'." he called limply. "We're supposed to be leading the first years."

Hearing this, his best friend rolled her eyes:

"Fuck, I forgot..."

She was about to say something else, probably a complaint, but she met Theo's angry gaze and stopped talking. She stood up from the table and raised her arms to make herself visible to the surrounding crowd, "First years, over here!"

Several children shyly approached her. Draco couldn't believe he had once been this small at Hogwarts.

"This way, we're going to the dungeons!" announced Pansy in a loud voice before turning to walk into the Hall.

Draco closed the line with his hands in his pockets. Several first years stared at him in amazement, and although this kind of demonstration would have made him euphoric at one time, he was now disgusted by it. By the time they reached the Hall, Granger was passing by at the same time. Draco even had time to catch the scent of strawberry shampoo from her hair as she was so close to him.

"Come on, gather round!" she said in her high-pitched voice. "We're going up to the seventh floor, to the Gryffindor tower on the east side of the stairs..."

Her voice was drowned out by the bustle of the Hall and Draco was swept up the line to the dungeon stairs. It was much colder and darker than the Great Hall. It smelled musty and damp, like the stone floor after a rain.

"Ambitio est hominis essentia." Pansy called to the hidden door of the Common Room.

The door opened and all the first years rushed in, letting out admiring "oohs".

Pansy faced them. In her green and black dress and perfectly combed ink-coloured hair, she looked like a teacher.

"This is the Common Room." she announced grimly. "There are tables to study at and sofas to sit on. You can't sit on that one, it's reserved." she said firmly, pointing to the sofa and the two armchairs they always occupied. "The girls' dormitories are to the right of the stairs going down, and the boys' are to the left. The curfew for you is 8pm, so try not to get caught after that."

The first years frowned. Theo, who had settled into his usual chair, sighed loudly as he heard Pansy's final instruction.

"Draco Malfoy is Slytherin's other fifth year prefect." she continued, pointing to Draco with her hand. "But if you have any questions, don't ask us, we probably won't be in the mood to answer them. You can always ask the sixth and seventh years, or Theodore Nott over there. He'll be able to answer you better than we can anyway."

When Theo heard his name, he looked up furtively from his book. He was peony red. He mumbled something, without looking at the students gathered in front of Pansy, and plunged back into his reading.

Pansy gave the astonished first years some more information and Draco took the opportunity to slip away discreetly. Blaise was in the shower when he entered the dormitory.

Draco quickly changed into his pyjamas, and meditated until he fell asleep from exhaustion.

.

.

---

Hermione

---

.

.

When Hermione saw that Draco was the Slytherin Prefect, she couldn't help but feel a small pang of joy in her stomach.

Of course, her cold, rational logic screamed at her that this wasn't a good idea, for two reasons. Firstly, Draco shouldn't be a prefect. His behaviour was far from exemplary and he would probably have no problem using his position for his own ends. He could be particularly nasty, even tyrannical, when he wanted to be. And she knew that he often stayed out past curfew, even organising parties in his Common Room, which was completely forbidden by the school rules.

The second reason was that it forced her to spend even more time with him. And although she loved these secret moments, she had to admit that it wasn't fair on Harry or Ron. She'd lied to them for too long. They would worry when she would have rounds with him, when she was secretly looking forward to it.

The guilt was still so heavy after the summer. Ever since Harry had arrived at Grimmauld Square in a rage, Hermione had been at a loss for excuses. She used to tell herself it was just a few meaningless sessions in the Library and then the beginning of an unexpected friendship. But since Draco had confessed his feelings for her...

She'd promised herself she'd stop thinking about him, and she'd kept her resolution pretty well through August. But from the moment she saw him on the platform, then in the prefects' compartment, it had become impossible to take her eyes off him. She couldn't control herself. She watched him from an angle and felt her heart quicken every time he turned his head towards her.

Luckily, Draco was still Malfoy. And he managed to remind her of that as soon as she returned to her compartment.

"What do you want?" Harry said aggressively.

Looking up, Hermione saw Draco leaning against the train door. She hadn't seen him enter. She hiccupped in surprise to see him so close. But when she saw his cold grey eyes and his closed face, she quickly realised that the boy in front of her wasn't Draco at all. It was Malfoy.

"Manners, Potter, or I'll have to give you detention." Malfoy hissed with a sly grin.

Hermione hated that boy. He was so different from the one she knew... This boy was nothing like the one in the Library or in Hampstead Park. She pursed her lips when she heard him teasing Harry about not being a prefect.

When she looked away from Malfoy, she hiccupped a second time in surprise: standing behind him like two bodyguards were Crabbe and Goyle. She knew they were still "friends", but to see them flanking Draco like that gave her a punch in the gut. They had hurt her. Draco had been so angry... He'd healed her, on their bench... How could he bring them in front of her?

A throbbing anger ran down her spine.

"Tell me, how does it feel being second best to Weasley, Potter?" said Malfoy in that sly, drawling voice he always used when mocking Harry.

Hermione saw Harry take the brunt of the blow. His eyes clouded for a moment. The election of the prefects was still fresh in his mind, a betrayal by Dumbledore that he had yet to fully digest. Seeing her best friend in such pain, Hermione replied:

"Shut up, Malfoy."

She only saw the effect of her sentence when he turned his head in surprise. His eyes widened slightly. Then, something changed. In a split second, his jaw clenched, he straightened and his eyes became... darker?

"Well, I seem to have touched a nerve." he observed with a grin. "Well, just watch yourself, Potter, because I'll be dogging your footsteps in case you step out of line."

When he said the word "dogging", Hermione froze in surprise.

She had caught him looking at Sirius on the platform.

She had no idea what he knew, but she knew Draco Malfoy well enough to know that he was a stubborn boy. When he wanted to understand something, he would move heaven and earth to do so. And seeing Padfoot had definitely intrigued him.

"Get out!" she shouted as she got to her feet.

She walked the few metres of the compartment in two strides to close the door. Malfoy looked at her, but she didn't recognise him. Just before he disappeared from her vision, she glanced at Crabbe and Goyle and abruptly closed the door.

She returned to her seat with trembling hands. Harry looked at her with a hint of concern in his green eyes. He had heard too. Dogging.

This was no accident. He suspected something.

Throughout the trip, Hermione kept going back to the scene. It was hard for her to understand why Draco was acting this way. If he loved her as much as he said he did, why was he hurting Harry? Why was he still talking to Crabbe and Goyle after they had attacked her from behind? Why was he behaving like Malfoy and not her nice Draco?

Hermione found it hard to understand this enigmatic boy with his changing moods.

One thing was for sure, her guilt had been replaced by anger.

Hermione and Ron were the first to leave the compartment to make sure the first years found their way back.

"Ron, you go to the platform and lead the first years to Hagrid. I'll stay in the corridor and help them off the train."

He nodded and leapt onto the platform.

"First years!" she called as the compartment doors opened. "First years, this way, up front, please!"

Several shy students approached her and she pointed to the exit of the train.

"Miss? Is it true that we're going to the Castle on a unicorn?" asked a frightened little girl.

"No, of course not, you'll be going in boats, just walk to the end of the platform..."

Several students had not yet put on their robes, so Hermione helped them find them in their trunks. This quickly created a huge traffic jam along the corridor.

"Come on, hurry up! Hurry up!"

"Look, it's Hermione Granger, Harry Potter's best friend..." a first year whispered to another boy.

Hermione pretended not to hear. When all the first years were on the platform, she was about to jump up when she heard voices a little further away. A voice full of hostility that she knew by heart.

"Apologise!"

She had no trouble spotting Malfoy. His platinum blonde hair was instantly recognisable. He was accompanied by Blaise Zabini who, as usual, towered over everyone else. Next to them were Nott and Parkinson: Nott looked worried and Parkinson was pointing at something on her dress.

Hermione's eyes widened as she saw Malfoy holding someone by the neck. A first year, by the looks of it.

"Keep walking, and if you ever bump into anyone like that again, I'll have you in detention before you even get to the Castle." Draco snapped indignantly.

He put him down violently again and the boy hurried off the train, stuttering in terror. Hermione was outraged. She'd never thought Draco could be so barbaric to a poor little boy. His prefect badge shone brightly on his chest.

When he looked at her, she didn't feel the usual jolt of electricity. Just a deep disgust, and she glared at him before jumping onto the platform.

Ron was gone. Hermione walked blindly along the station, carefully avoiding Malfoy and his gang. She finally found Harry and Ron at the end of the platform, near the carriages.

"Malfoy was being absolutely foul to a first year." she said to Harry. This time, she had no problem feigning anger. "I swear I'm going to report him, he's only had his badge for three minutes and he's using it to bully people worse than ever... Where's Crookshanks?"

"Ginny's got him." Harry explained. "There she is."

Indeed, the redhead was walking towards them, Crookshanks in her arms, the cage in her hand.

"Sorry, I couldn't get him in... I don't think he wants the cage..."

Hermione thanked Ginny and picked up Crookshanks, who was struggling mightily. She held him in her arms and looked around. Hagrid usually stood by the boats, but Hermione had trouble spotting him, despite his imposing build.

"Where's Hagrid?" she asked Ginny, who was also looking for him.

Suddenly a dry, authoritative voice was heard:

"We're boarding! Latecomers, hurry up!"

Hermione was surprised to see Professor Grubbly-Plank, with her feet in the water of the Lake, leading the first years. Hagrid wasn't there. It was the first time since Hermione had been at Hogwarts that Hagrid wasn't there to greet them on the platform. It was a strange sight, and very worrying. Where could Hagrid be? Was he still on a mission for Dumbledore, as he had told them at the end of the previous year?

Hermione entered the carriage, accompanied by Ginny, Harry, Ron, Neville and Luna Lovegood. Hermione already knew Luna, they had met several times over the previous year through Ginny. But Hermione still remembered her first impression of the young woman: she was strange. She was always talking about magical creatures Hermione didn't know about and her attitude was always surprising. Hermione had never really gotten used to it, and she had to admit that she didn't like the girl very much. She reminded her of a young Trelawney.

Hermione's thoughts were still clouded as she sat down at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. And seeing that Hagrid wasn't at the teachers' table confused her even more.

"You don't think he could have been... hurt or something?" Hermione asked Harry in a low, worried voice.

"No." Harry replied briskly, although he also looked confused by the absence of the gamekeeper.

"But the, where is he?" asked Ron in a whisper.

"Perhaps he's not back yet. From his... mission... what he was supposed to do for Dumbledore over the summer..." Harry said hesitantly.

"Yes... Yes, that must be it." Ron said, looking reassured.

Hermione bit her lip. She hated not knowing where Hagrid might be. She was so used to his presence that she suddenly found the staff table much gloomier than before, as if a ray of sunshine that usually brightened the room was missing.

Then her eye was drawn to a large pink dot near the centre. Hermione looked at the new professor, presumably the one who would be teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts. She was dressed entirely in pink, every shade from candy pink to fuchsia. Her head was abnormally larger than the rest of her body, with swinging cheeks that gave her an odd face shape. Her hair was frozen in a voluminous bob of auburn curls.

Without knowing why, Hermione felt a visceral hostility towards this woman.

"Who's that?" she asked the boys.

Harry and Ron knew immediately who she meant. The woman's brightly coloured outfit contrasted with the age of the room, so much so that she stood out from everyone around her. Ron raised his eyebrows in a grimace of disgust, Harry frowned as he analysed her for a few seconds. Then he opened his mouth wide, as if he'd just remembered where he knew her from:

"It's that Umbridge woman!" he exclaimed in a hasty whisper.

"Who?"

"She was at my hearing, she works with Fudge!"

Hermione realised he meant his disciplinary hearing this summer. She looked at the woman again, her eyebrows furrowed as Harry's had been. What on earth was a Fudge associate doing at Hogwarts?

"Nice cardigan." remarked Ron, his voice full of sarcasm.

"She works for Fudge?" repeated Hermione, doubtful. "What's she doing here, then?"

"Dunno..." replied Harry, who had turned his gaze towards Dumbledore.

Hermione looked round the teachers' table again. Everyone she knew was already there. Snape was at the end of the table, in stark contrast to Umbridge's bright pink with his long black cloak and dark hair. So, that must mean that Umbridge had joined the teaching staff...

"No..." she muttered to herself. "No, surely not..."

At that moment, McGonagall entered the Great Hall, followed by the first years. She walked to the dais, placed the Sorting Hat on its stool, and asked for silence.

Hermione listened to the Sorting Hat, who succeeded in making her think of something else, so she concentrated instead on his words of warning.

"I wonder if he's given warnings like this in the past." she said when the Sorting Hat had finished singing.

"Oh yes." replied Nearly Headless Nick, who was hovering above the table right next to them. "The Sorting Hat feels it's his duty to give warnings to the school when he thinks the situation calls for it..."

He wanted to say more, but the Sorting Ceremony began, a tradition Hermione loved and so watched with particular attention. Then, the feast arrived on the table and Ron pounced on it like a hungry bear.

"What were you saying about the warnings given by the Sorting Hat?" she asked the ghost of the Gryffindors.

"Oh yes." said Nick, turning his transparent head away from Ron who was eating with his fingers. "Yes, I've heard the Sorting Hat give warnings on several occasions. It was always at times when he sensed times of great peril were coming for the school. And, of course, his advice was always the same: stick together and be stronger."

"Ow kunnit nofe skusin danger ifzat?" asked Ron without swallowing his mouthful.

Hermione poked him in the ribs, offended by his manner.

"I beg your pardon?" said Nick politely.

"How does a hat know when the school is in danger?" he repeated after gulping down his huge mouthful.

"I have no idea." replied the ghost. "Of course, it lives in Dumbledore's office, so I daresay it picks things up there."

"And he wants all the Houses to be friends?" asked Harry, glancing unkindly towards the Slytherin table. "Fat chance."

Hermione cast a quick look towards the Slytherin table. Parkinson and Zabini were both chatting, but Draco was silent, his head bent over his plate. She realised when she saw him that she was still furious with him, and looked away.

"You shouldn't take such an attitude." Nick replied reprovingly. "Peaceful cooperation is the key to everything. We ghosts, even though we belong to different Houses, know how to maintain bonds of friendship. Despite the rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin, I would never dream of quarrelling with the Bloody Baron."

Hermione considered these words of wisdom.

"Only because you're terrified of him." said Ron between bites of chop.

"Terrified?" repeated Nearly Headless Nick in an offended tone. "I hope I, Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, have never been guilty of cowardice in my life! The noble blood that runs in my veins..."

"What blood?" wondered Ron. "Surely you haven't still got...?"

Hermione's eyes widened in shock at Ron's insolence. She jabbed him in the ribs again, but he didn't notice because he was so busy devouring his food.

"Its's a figure of speech!" interrupted Nearly Headless Nick in a loud voice. "I may be denied the pleasures of the table, but I still have the right to use the vocabulary that suits me! But I am quite used to students poking fun at my death, I assure you!"

"Nick, he wasn't making fun of you!" said Hermione, glaring at Ron.

"Pa d'tou v'iu ou 'xer." he said by way of apology.

The ghost tilted his head, which wobbled for a second on his severed neck, then walked away muttering intelligible words.

"Well done, Ron." Hermione commented dryly.

"What?" Ron exclaimed, his fork halfway between his plate and his mouth. "I'm not allowed to ask a simple question?"

"Oh, forget it." Hermione replied, annoyed.

She didn't speak to him again for the rest of the meal. Ron had a way of getting on her nerves quickly, and the succession of strange events of the day had already made her nervous enough to add an argument with Ron to the mix.

Hermione was so anxious to hear Dumbledore's speech that she ate very little. She kept looking at Umbridge. She couldn't explain it, but that woman gave her a bad feeling. And she didn't know if it was her imagination, but she got the impression that most of the teachers didn't like her very much. McGonagall didn't turn to her once during the whole meal, her lips were more puckered than ever, and she was talking to Professor Sprout in a low voice.

Finally, Harry finished his slice of treacle tart, Ron rubbed his stomach after eating a dozen pork chops, and the feast disappeared. Dumbledore stood up and began his customary speech at the beginning of the year, reminding everyone of the school rules. He finally got to the part that interested Hermione:

"We have two new teachers this year. I am particularly pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be teaching Care of Magical Creatures." (Hermione looked worriedly at Harry and Ron, who looked back at her.) "And I'm also pleased to introduce Professor Umbridge, who will be teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts."

Hermione's fears were confirmed. As the Great Hall rang with polite applause, Umbridge stood up, which didn't make much of a difference, and cleared her throat with a "hum hum" that chilled Hermione's blood because her voice was so repulsive.

"Thank you, dear Headmaster, for those kind words of welcome." she said in a high-pitched voice that sounded like a child's. "I must say, it's a great pleasure to be back at Hogwarts and to see all those happy little faces looking up at me!"

Hermione narrowed her eyes and listened to every word the woman said. She wanted to know why she was there. Umbridge then launched into a long speech, which she recited mechanically, emphasising the Ministry of Magic's desire to teach while preserving the old values. Hermione couldn't help but show her disagreement. Every sentence she spoke promoted the Ministry and insisted that education should be factual, not progressive.

As she sat back down, Hermione exchanged a quick glance with McGonagall, who must have had the same look on her face as Hermione.

"Thank you, Professor Umbridge, for that most illuminating speech." Dumbledore said, bowing to her. "Now, as I was telling you, the tryouts for the Quidditch teams will take place on..."

"Yes, it certainly was illuminating." Hermione murmured.

"You're not telling me you enjoyed it?" said Ron, turning a blank face towards her. "That was about the dullest speech I've ever heard, and I grew up with Percy."

Hermione shared her theory with the boys, but the food must have lulled them to sleep, for they failed to grasp the gravity of the situation. So, just before the students got up to go to bed, Hermione turned to the one person who might understand.

She looked for him at the Slytherin table. She avoided looking at Draco and instead found Theodore Nott, to the right of Blaise Zabini. His eyebrows were furrowed beneath the curls that fell across his forehead. He was speaking in a low voice to Draco, Zabini and Parkinson. His face was marked with urgency. Hermione was glad to see that she wasn't the only one concerned about the threat that Umbridge posed as a teacher at Hogwarts: the Ministry's desire to brainwash young students.

Putting this revelation to one side, she hurried off to fulfil her duties as Prefect. Accompanied by Ron, she took the Gryffindor first years up to the seventh floor, gave them their new password (Mimbulus Mimbletonia) and then explained in detail how Hogwarts and the Gryffindor Common Room worked.

She had no trouble recognising the students with Muggle parents. She had the impression of seeing herself five years earlier, as anxious as she was motivated by the idea of conquering this new world she knew nothing about.

Harry had already gone to bed, so Hermione hurried off to her dormitory as well. Crookshanks was already asleep in his bed, probably exhausted from the long day he'd had. She got her things out, put her books away, put on her pyjamas, washed up and went to bed.

Just as she slipped under the covers, she heard Lavender and Parvati stomping upstairs to the dormitory. When Lavender opened the door, her face was lit up with a smile, but when she saw Hermione lying in bed, it shut immediately.

"Hi girls." Hermione said politely.

"Hi Hermione." Parvati replied without looking at her.

Hermione found both reactions very odd. Lavender and Parvati were not her best friends, but they had always been polite to each other. Hermione said nothing and opened her book to read a bit before going to sleep.

After a while, however, she heard a faint murmur. She looked up to see Lavender leaning over Parvati's bed, whispering something that Hermione couldn't hear. But she was sure it was about her.

"Lavender? Is something wrong?" called Hermione in a loud voice.

Parvati gasped and looked away. Lavender straightened up and gave Hermione a defiant look.

"Actually, yes, there is." she said coldly. "Are you still friends with Harry?"

Hermione was so taken aback by this question that she inadvertently raised her eyebrows.

"Of course I am." she replied straight away. "Why?"

"How can you believe anything he says?" asked Lavender, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Wh-what?"

"Lavender, stop..." Parvati interrupted. Hermione was relieved to see that she didn't share her opinion. "Leave her alone..."

"My parents almost stopped me from going back to Hogwarts, you know?" continued Lavender, ignoring her best friend's intervention. "And Seamus's too. They say it's too dangerous to be here with Harry because he has visions..."

"Visions?" Hermione repeated with a bitter laugh. "Harry doesn't have visions. He's not mad like the Daily Prophet would have you believe. You know him, Lavender!"

"I thought I knew him, before I found out what he's capable of!" the blonde retorted with a haughty snap of her tongue. "They say he's ill, and they make up lies to make us believe that You-Know-Who is back..."

"You-Know-Who is back!" snapped Hermione, rising from her bed. "Cedric died by his own hand! How can you doubt anything Harry says?"

"And how can you believe anything he says? We have no proof!"

"I have proof! I have Harry!" Hermione countered, feeling a new wave of anger rise inside her. "The Prophet is clearly trying to discredit him to make it look like all is well, and people are stupid enough to believe everything he says!"

"Are you calling me stupid?" Lavender hissed through gritted teeth.

"If you believe the Prophet, then yes, that's exactly what I'm doing!" replied Hermione without hesitation.

"Girls! Calm down!" squealed Parvati as she watched Lavender's face turn three shades of red in the space of a few seconds.

"I'm not stupid!" squealed Lavender angrily. "We don't know what happened, Harry hasn't said anything! How can you be sure he's right? How can you be sure he's not lying?"

"Because I trust him!" said Hermione sharply. "How else do you explain Cedric's death?"

Lavender suddenly seemed at a loss for words. She obviously hadn't thought of that. Parvati added:

"Lavender, she's right... We know Harry... I think Seamus got carried away, that's all..."

"How can you doubt Harry but believe the stupid things Trelawney says all the time?" asked Hermione.

Immediately, Lavender's doubtful eyes darkened.

"Divination again! You always hated that subject..."

"...You say Harry's mad because he has visions, but you idolise Trelawney who claims to have them in every class..." Hermione continued in a loud voice to cover Lavender's words.

"That's got nothing to do with it!"

"Whatever! Shut up, Lavender, I don't want to hear anything more from you!" shouted Hermione. "I'm going downstairs, so there'll be plenty of room for you two to gossip!"

Hermione angrily grabbed her blanket and book. Crookshanks had been woken by the howling and was looking at Lavender disapprovingly through his yellow eyes. As Hermione flung open the dormitory door, Crookshanks followed. Hermione slammed the door violently, sending echoes through the staircases, and ran down.

She found herself in the Gryffindor Common Room, but even the cosy atmosphere and the comforting smell of the wood fire in the fireplace cave did nothing to calm the angry fever that had crept up inside her. She sat angrily on the sofa and watched the fire, unable to read because she was so angry.

A few minutes later she heard footsteps on the stairs. She turned, ready to shout at Lavender again, but stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Ron. He was wearing his blue plaid pyjama bottoms and holding his wand in his left hand.

"Oh, it's you." he said flatly. "I heard noises, I thought it was first years..."

"It was me, I slammed the door accidentally." Hermione grumbled.

Ron approached her cautiously.

"What's up, Mione?" he asked affectionately.

Hermione might have smiled at the nickname he reserved for moments of extreme urgency had she not been so annoyed.

"It's Lavender." she said with an irritated sigh. "She believes the Daily Prophet, she thinks Harry's lying."

She didn't need to explain. Ron let out the same sigh she had and sat down on the arm of Hermione's sofa. He looked exhausted.

"So is Seamus." he said in a low voice. "He just threw a tantrum at Harry and said his parents didn't want him to go back to Hogwarts because of him. Harry was furious."

Hermione pursed her lips and didn't answer. She preferred to stare at the flames in the fireplace in silence, just long enough to calm down a little.

She could feel the frantic beating of her heart calming more and more. Ron didn't say anything either, probably lost in his own thoughts.

After several minutes, he finally asked her in a very quiet voice:

"You believe him, don't you? Harry?"

Hermione turned her head towards him in disbelief. Ron was still staring at the fire, the flames dancing in his tired pupils.

"Of course I believe him." she replied firmly. "I'll always believe Harry."

"So will I." Ron confirmed with a nod, still not looking at her.

Then he took a deep breath and said in a hesitant voice:

"Hermione, I think it's going to be a difficult year."

"Why?" she asked.

"I don't think Harry will be able to handle it." Ron said. "All those people talking behind his back all the time, pointing at him when he walks... All those people blindly believing the Prophet, doubting everything he says... Hermione, we know Harry. You know how he'll react, don't you?"

Hermione turned her attention back to the flames dancing in the fireplace.

"He'll isolate himself." she guessed.

"Exactly. He'll isolate himself. He'll be pissed off at the whole world and feel lonely."

"He won't be lonely." Hermione disagreed.

"No, but he'll feel like he is." Ron corrected in a dull, dead voice. "Hermione, I have complete faith in Harry. He's my best friend, I'll always defend him, even if the whole world is against him. When I asked you if you believed in Harry, I wanted to ask you if you believed in him as much as I do."

Hermione turned her head towards Ron again. This time, her eyes locked with his. It was the first time Ron had asked her for her loyalty so frankly.

And for a brief second, she saw Draco in his place.

"Of course." she said without the slightest doubt. "Nothing will make me doubt him."

Ron nodded.

"I apologised to Harry last year for being an prat, when I stopped talking to him because I thought he'd put his name in the Cup." he said. "But I never apologised to you."

"You weren't mad at me." she pointed out, not understanding what he was getting at.

"No, but I gave you a hard time." he murmured, lowering his eyes. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I know it has been a difficult time for you. You were constantly torn between the two of us and I probably had to say some hurtful things to you."

Hermione immediately felt her shoulders relax at this admission. She had never thought that Ron could be so open with her about his feelings. It felt so good, all her anger drained away and was replaced by a touched smile.

"Well, I forgive you, Ronald." Hermione said in a whisper.

Ron smiled too, a real open smile that was much more like him than the sullen face he had been wearing. She could see the freckles on his cheeks in the light of the flames.

"Thank you. I'm glad we got to talk like this." he said, pointing to the space between them with his finger. "You know you can always talk to me if you need to?"

"Yes, of course. You too, whenever you want." Hermione assured him.

"Good. Don't sleep here because Lavender's stupid, please." he advised as he rose from the armrest. "She doesn't deserve you breaking your back on that sofa..."

"Don't worry about it. Good night Ron."

He waved his hand at her and went back up to his dormitory with a yawn.

Hearing his footsteps on the stairs, Hermione sighed contentedly. This discussion had really done her good, as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She was more relaxed, something she hadn't been since before Square Grimmauld.

She fell asleep on the sofa with a smile on her face as she thought back to her chat with Ron.

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The next morning, a Monday, Hermione woke up early. When she went into the dormitory to shower and get dressed, Lavender was already awake. They ignored each other, oblivious to Parvati's annoyed sighs as she was forced to watch the silent quarrel between them.

When Hermione came back downstairs with her school bag and Gryffindor uniform on her shoulders, Harry and Ron were already in the Common Room, ready to go to breakfast. Harry seemed in a very bad mood.

"What's the matter?" she asked, although she already suspected the answer. "You look absolutely... Oh, for heaven's sake."

A neon pink flyer had caught her eye on the notice board. Hermione approached it and saw to her horror a moving picture of the twins, two big smiles on their faces, with the words:

GALLONS OF GALLEONS!

Pocket money failing to keep pace with your outgoings?

Like to earn a little extra gold?

Contact Fred and George Weasley,

Gryffindor Common Room,

For simple, part-time, virtually painless jobs!

(WE REGRET THAT ALL WORK IS UNDERTAKEN AT APPLICANT'S OWN RISK)

"They're really out of line!" cried Hermione, snatching the paper from the blackboard. "We're going to have to have a word with them, Ron."

"Why?" he asked in a frightened tone.

"Because we're prefects!" she said as they left the Common Room.

Ron remained silent. Hermione turned to Harry as they descended the stairs to the Great Hall:

"Anyway, what's up with you, Harry? You look furious."

"Seamus reckons Harry's lying about You-Know-Who." Ron replied.

Hermione already knew, but Ron obviously didn't want Harry to know that he'd already mentioned it. Hermione sighed.

"Yes, Lavender thinks so too."

"Been having a nice little chat with her about whether or not I'm a

lying, attention-seeking prat, have you?" asked Harry sarcastically with a hint of animosity.

"No." she replied calmly. "I told her to keep her big fat mouth shut about you, actually. And it would be quite nice if you stopped jumping down Ron's and my throats, Harry, because if you haven't noticed, we're on your side."

Harry looked down suddenly, a little embarrassed.

"Sorry." he breathed softly.

"That's all right." she replied. "Do you remember what Dumbledore said on the day of the end of year feast?"

Ron and Harry gave her an incredulous look. She sighed a second time at the near total lack of memory of these two boys.

"About You-Know-Who." she explained. "He said that his "His gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust...""

"How do you remember stuff like that?" asked Ron.

"I listen, Ron." she replied.

"So am I, but I still wouldn't be able to repeat it exactly..." muttered Ron.

"The point," interrupted Hermione in a loud voice. "is that this sort of thing is exactly what Dumbledore was talking about. You-Know-Who's only been back two months, and we've started fighting among ourselves. And the Sorting Hat's warning was the same: stand together, be united..."

"And Harry said it last night." Ron said, skipping the last step of the staircase. "If that means we're supposed to get matey with the Slytherins, fat chance."

Hermione, on impulse, replied at once:

"Well, I think it's a pity we're not trying for a bit of inter-House unity..."

She was hardly sorry when the sentence passed her lips. She hadn't meant to say it like that, it sounded like she was justifying her hidden friendship with Draco. Ron gave her a strange look. Harry, on the other hand, had turned his head towards a row of Ravenclaws who pressed themselves against the wall to let him pass, as if he were infected with some hideous disease.

"Yeah, we really ought to be trying to make friends with people like that." he said sarcastically.

They entered the Great Hall and Hermione decided not to talk about cooperation between Houses any more. The sky was a sullen grey, with heavy clouds dropping a torrential downpour that stopped just above the students' heads. Hagrid was still not seated at the staff table. Hermione was now convinced that he was still on a mission for Dumbledore.

McGonagall passed between the tables just as Hermione was pouring herself a large cup of black tea.

"Look what we've got today!" growled Ron as soon as he'd received the paper. "History of Magic, double Potions, Divination and another double Defence Against the Dark Arts... Binns, Snape, Trelawney and that Umbridge, all in the same day!"

Hermione contemplated her timetable, her eyebrows furrowed. She didn't even look at the classes Ron had listed, too preoccupied with the idea that all the classes for the day were shared with the Slytherins.

"I wish Fred and George'd hurry up and get those Skiving Snackboxes sorted..." lamented Ron.

The twins arrived just then. Hermione dropped her timetable and turned to them:

"Speaking of your Skiving Snackboxes, you can't advertise for testers in the Common Room."

"Says who?" asked George.

"Says me." replied Hermione. "And Ron too."

"Leave me out of this..." Ron immediately protested in a whisper.

Hermione glared at him while Fred and George burst out laughing.

"You'll be singing a different tune soon enough, Hermione." Fred assured her as he spread a thick layer of butter on his toast. "You're starting your fifth year, and you'll find that it won't be long before you're begging us for a Snackbox."

"And why would I need Skiving Snackboxes for my fifth year?" asked Hermione imperiously.

"Because it's the year of the O.W.L." replied George, as if it were obvious.

"So?"

"So you've got your exams coming up, haven't you? They'll be keeping your noses so hard to that grindstone they'll be rubbed raw." Fred explained with a satisfied look.

Hermione frowned. She knew that fifth year was a busy year, but she had never thought that Fred and George, the two biggest pranksters in the school, would agree. This meant that this year would be all about studying, even more than the year before. In the Library...

At the thought of the round, secluded table, her eyes automatically went up in front of her. Draco was sitting opposite Pansy Parkinson and next to Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott. The latter was reading a book while eating with his other hand, Zabini was reading the newspaper, Parkinson was drinking her coffee while chatting with Draco.

Usually, he felt her eyes on him and looked at her too, but this time, he ate without even looking up.

Harry and Ron were right: it was a very complicated day. Not necessarily because of the lessons, which Hermione loved, but rather because of her tendency to lose concentration during them. In History of Magic, a subject she had always followed religiously, Hermione found herself daydreaming as she looked out of the window.

She kept thinking about Draco. She was always faced with this dilemma. She desperately wanted to talk to him and see him again after such a long month without hearing from him. But on the other hand, he was still just as mean to Harry and Ron, and the guilt always came back whenever she allowed herself to think about him.

So Hermione spent the morning weighing the pros and cons. He had promised to be in the Library on the first day of classes. Had he forgotten? It was hard to imagine him looking forward to it when he was behaving so viciously. Even his eyes weren't so mesmerising when they were so closed and glowing with ferocity.

Potions class was even harder to follow. She didn't know if it was her imagination, but she had the distinct impression that she could smell his minty perfume, even though he was two tables away and her own potion smelled completely different. Miraculously, she managed to make her Draught of Peace, unlike Harry, who got a Troll.

The Arithmancy class was even more complicated, because Draco was so close to her that she could feel his gaze on her cheek, as if he were burning her with his icy pupils. She was careful not to turn her head towards him once during the whole class, including when Theodore let out a squeal of delight when he managed to predict something correctly with his diagram.

Umbridge's class was the only time Hermione managed to think about anything else. She soon realised that this Umbridge was exactly what she had predicted: an emissary from the Ministry to dumb down the students. She made a long speech explaining that the teaching given by the former teachers of this subject was to be desired, and that she absolutely had to raise the level to allow them to pass their O.W.L.. Then, she tapped her wand against the blackboard and asked them to copy down the three learning objectives:

1. Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic.

2. Learning to recognize situations in which defensive magic can legally be used.

3. Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use.

Hermione felt indignation rise in her throat. Umbridge, still wearing that awful pink cardigan with ribbons, waited for them to finish copying. Hermione did not.

"Has everybody got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?" she asked in her squeaky little voice.

A murmur of unenthusiastic approval went through the class.

"I think we'll have to start again." said Professor Umbridge. "When I ask you a question, I'd like you to answer: "Yes, Professor Umbridge", or "No, Professor Umbridge." So, let me repeat: has everyone got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?"

"Yes, Professor Umbridge." the class chanted.

"Very good. Now I would like you to open this book to page five and read the first chapter: "Basics for Beginners." There will be no need to talk."

All the students opened their textbooks lazily, and Umbridge went to sit in her chair. Hermione raised her hand. The teacher glanced at her, then looked away and ignored her.

Hermione fumed. No teacher had ever ignored her when she wanted to ask a question. Even Snape, infamous as he was, always allowed her to speak. Hermione kept her arm stubbornly raised, without taking her eyes off Umbridge.

After several minutes of silent reading, Hermione's hand was still raised without response. Harry gave her a puzzled look, to which she replied with a brief nod. When she turned her head towards him, she also met the eyes of Draco, who was sitting in the right-hand row. He looked astonished to see her so stubborn in front of a teacher. Theodore was also looking at her, to Zabini's right, but he had a look of admiration on his face.

"Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?" asked Umbridge suddenly, as if she had only just noticed.

"Not about the chapter, no." she replied.

"For the moment, we're reading." said Umbridge with a tight smile. "If you have other queries we can deal with them at the end of class."

"I have a query about your course aims." Hermione continued in a firm voice.

Umbridge raised her eyebrows.

"And your name is...?"

"Hermione Granger." she replied proudly.

"Well, Miss Granger, it seems to me that these objectives are perfectly clear if you take the trouble to read them carefully."

Hermione could clearly hear the disdainful laughter of several of the students. Everyone in this class knew about her reading ability.

"Well, I don't." she said bluntly. "There's nothing written up there about using defensive spells."

Several students turned their heads to the board to analyse the aims again.

"The use of defensive spells?" the teacher repeated, as if this was the most futile idea she had ever heard. "I can't think of anything that could happen in my class that would require you to use such a spell, Miss Granger. Surely you're not afraid of being attacked during my lessons?"

"So we won't be doing any magic?" exclaimed Ron.

"When one wishes to speak in my class, one raises one's hand, Mr..."

"Weasley." replied Ron, who in turn raised his hand.

Harry did the same, but Umbridge did not give him a glance:

"Yes, Miss Granger? You wanted to ask something else?"

"Yes. The whole point of Defence Against the Dark Arts classes is to practice defensive spells, isn't it?"

"Are you a Ministry-trained educational expert, Miss Granger?" asked Umbridge in a honeyed voice.

"No, but..."

"Well then, I'm afraid you are not qualified to decide what the "whole point" of any class is. Wizards much older and cleverer than you have devised our new program of study. You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way..."

"What use is that?" asked Harry suddenly in a loud voice. "If we're attacked, it won't be with..."

"Hand, Mr Potter!" Umbridge interrupted curtly.

Harry raised his hand again, but Umbridge did not question him. Instead, she answered Dean's question, to which she replied in the same way as she had to Hermione: that they certainly didn't need defensive Charms in this class, and that if they wanted to get their O.W.L.'s, all they had to do was study theory.

"And what good will theory do us in the real world?" asked Harry, his voice thick with anger.

"This is school, Mr Potter, not the real world." replied Umbridge with a fake annoying sweetness.

"So we're not going to prepare for what awaits us outside?" asked Harry.

"Nothing awaits you out there, Mr Potter."

"Oh, really?" retorted Harry angrily.

"Who do you think would think of attacking children like you?" questioned Professor Umbridge in that awful honeyed voice of her.

"Mmm, let's see..." replied Harry, pretending to think. "Maybe... I don't know... Lord Voldemort?"

Several students let out cries of surprise. Lavender almost fell off her stool. But Hermione watched Draco's reaction instead: he didn't show anything, except that his body stiffened against his chair.

"Ten points down for Gryffindor, Mr Potter." Umbridge announced quietly. "And now, I'm going to clear up a few things..." She leaned back against her desk in a posture someone would adopt when talking to a child. "You were told that a certain Dark wizard had returned from the dead..."

"He wasn't dead!" snapped Harry. "And it's true, he has come back!"

"Mr.-Potter-you-have-already-lost-your-House-ten-points-do-not-make-matters-worse-for-yourself." said Professor Umbridge in one breath. "As I was telling you, you've been told that a certain Dark wizard is on the loose again. This is a lie."

"It is NOT a lie!" exclaimed Harry in fury. "I've seen him, I've fought him!"

"Detention, Mr Potter!" retorted Professor Umbridge triumphantly. "Tomorrow night. Five o'clock. In my office. I repeat, this is a lie. The Ministry of Magic guarantees that you are not in danger from any Dark wizard. If you are still worried, by all means come and see me outside class hours. If someone is alarming you with fibs about reborn Dark wizards, I would like to hear about it. I am here to help. I am your friend. And now, you will kindly continue your reading. Page five, "Basics for Beginners.""

Hermione had suspected this woman would be insufferable, but she could never have imagined it would be this bad. She was so angry that she had to clench her fist under her desk. But her anger was nothing like Harry's. He leapt to his feet, startling everyone. Hermione looked at him, and didn't recognise the boy next to her, he was simply beside himself.

"Harry, no!" whispered Hermione, tugging at his uniform sleeve, but he pulled away.

She didn't want him to give that woman the satisfaction of getting upset. She was obviously just waiting for that. But anger was probably blinding him, because he asked:

"So, in your opinion, Cedric Diggory died of his own free will?"

His voice was shaking with rage and emotion. The whole class gasped, including the Slytherins. Harry had never spoken about what had happened that night, apart from her and Ron.

Umbridge looked at him almost disinterestedly.

"Cedric Diggory's death was a tragic accident." she recited mechanically.

"It was murder." Harry challenged. "Voldemort killed him, and you know it."

For a second, the class fell silent. Everyone stared at Harry, who was still standing, his face contorted into a grimace of fury Hermione had never seen before. Umbridge did not make the slightest facial expression that might have expressed any emotion. Then, she said in her sweetest voice:

"Come here, Mr Potter, dear."

Harry kicked back his chair and Hermione jumped into hers. He approached the desk shakily. Umbridge took her time getting out a parchment and a long, pale pink peacock quill. She wrote out of sight, then sealed the parchment and handed it to Harry:

"Take this to Professor McGonagall, Mr Potter, dear."

Harry spun on his heels and hurried out of the room. He slammed the door behind him and Umbridge pretended not to have heard. She smiled fondly at the students in front of her, coughed an unbearable "hum hum" and said quietly:

"Resume reading, please. No more questions."

Everyone bowed their heads and resumed reading. Hermione did not take out her textbook. She exchanged a look with Ron, then spent the rest of the class preparing a mental plan.

She called it "The Dilemma of Draco Malfoy."

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.

At the end of Defence Against the Dark Arts, Harry still hadn't returned from McGonagall's office. Hermione and Ron waited in the corridor for a few minutes, then when she saw that he wasn't coming, she sighed with all her might, exhausted by her first day.

"When you said Harry would get lonely and isolate himself, I didn't think you meant it would happen the next day."

Ron pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers.

"Neither did I." he admitted in a low voice. "I'm exhausted. That Umbridge has worn me out for the day. Want to come to the Common Room before dinner?"

"I'll go to the Library instead." she said, trying not to blush as she said it. "You know, we've got a lot of homework already..."

"Tell me about it!" muttered Ron, waving both hands. "I don't even want to think about it. My head's gonna explode. See you at dinner."

And he stomped off in the opposite direction.

Hermione took a deep breath, replayed her plan in her mind and made her way to the Library.

This time, she had made up her mind. She had rehearsed her entire speech in Umbridge's class, and she was determined not to be distracted from her words by grey eyes. What's more, the anger that had animated her during the lesson was still buried inside her, ready to surface at any moment.

She entered the huge room and breathed in the smell of books out of habit. She greeted Madam Pince, who gave her a rare broad smile, and walked confidently towards the secluded table.

Without knowing how, she was already sure it was there. And indeed, when she turned the corner of the last shelf, she saw him sitting in his usual place, his books already out. His Slytherin uniform was perfectly pressed, his blond hair had grown a little over his forehead, and his complexion was as pale as ever.

When he looked up at her, Hermione didn't lose herself in his grey eyes. He smiled slightly when he saw her, but she didn't react. Instead, she raised her wand and whispered the Silence spell around the table.

Draco raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised at her arrival.

"Malfoy." Hermione said. "We need to talk."

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Sorry for the delay in publishing this, but the site wasn't working on my computer!

I've created a Mon Ange Gardien playlist! Here's the link: /playlist?list=PLQ7Uei7CzLYdXbsMLJb75-2D2M-F26sl-&si=wFBKc2wGjN4C91Lb

I've put in all the music that reminds me of my fic or that I listen to when I'm writing. Several readers have also recommended tracks that I've added, so don't hesitate to give me some if you have any ideas :)

I'm off to Dublin this week, so hopefully I'll have time to translate my next chapter by Sunday! I'll keep you posted on my Instagram, elilou_23! :)