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!

69. 69 : the Animagus enigma

First, I want to thank you all for your kind reviews! I don't have the time to answer to everybody, but know that every comment is carefully read! Thank you so much :)

To celebrate, I suggest you have a big cinnamon tea to read tonight's chapter! :)

Secondly, I received a comment asking me if my fanfiction was going to become a Dreomione (Draco + Hermione + Theo), and even though I'm trying to reveal as little as possible about what's going to happen in MAG, I want to reassure you: This fic will remain a Dramione until the end! I haven't envisaged a love affair between Theo and Hermione at all, let alone a love triangle between the three of them. I emphasise the similarities between Theo and Hermione to show that they could have a beautiful friendship, but absolutely not as an indication of a future couple! I've got nothing against this ship, but I don't think it would fit at all in this context! I haven't put any ships other than Dramione in the tags so as not to spoil the "secondary" couples, but I insist: Mon Ange Gardien is a Dramione, and the main ship won't change :)

Happy reading everyone and thanks again for your involvement, it goes straight to my heart!3

tw :

- anxiety attack (at the beginning of the chapter)

- emetophobia (Daphne's allusion during the Slytherin breakfast)

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Draco

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Draco,

I know everything.

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The moment his eyes crossed the first line, Draco's legs buckled under his weight. It was as if his head had been drained of blood and gravity no longer held him down. He barely managed to catch himself on the pillar of Blaise's bed. His hand shook so badly that the parchment slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor.

Draco could hear his own blood pounding against his eardrums. His father's sentence was slowly seeping into his brain, but it was as if it were poisonous, for the trail it left was painfully vivid.

His father knew.

About everything.

He knew his secret. The first person who shouldn't know. Who wasn't supposed to find out.

Draco's fingers twitched, struggling to hold onto the bedpost.

Lucius had found out... Everyone was going to know... He would be disowned... Would he be sent somewhere? To Durmstrang? Maybe Snape could help him? Would Blaise agree to let him live with him?

Would this be the last time he would see Granger?

"Draco? Draco!"

Draco blinked a few times and the white patch in front of his eyes sharpened into Pansy's porcelain face. Her black eyes were filled with fear.

"Draco? Are you all right?"

He looked down to see that she had picked up his father's letter. His vision blurred again. His head was spinning so much that he groaned involuntarily.

"Draco, you were right!" Pansy continued with a hint of panic in her voice. "Draco, you were right, Potter's dog was strange, and your father knows why now!"

He frowned, concentrating on Pansy's sentence.

Potter's dog?

"Wh-what?" he stammered.

"Sit down..." she said, concern in her tone as much as in her face. "Sit down, you're having a panic attack..."

Draco turned his head, haggard, and was surprised to find that the weight he felt on his shoulder was actually Theo holding him as best he could. His face was as pale as Pansy's, his eyes wide. Blaise had risen from his bed and was looking at him with the same urgency as the other two.

"Dray? Are you all right?" he asked.

He took his wrist and helped him to sit up on his bed, his breathing still ragged. The three of them stood in front of him, looking at Draco as if he'd suddenly turned green.

"I'm fine." Draco croaked hoarsely. "I just... freaked out."

"Fuck, Draco, you scared the shit out of us!" exploded Theo, his blue eyes still wide.

"You're so pale..." remarked Pansy.

She put her cold hand to his forehead and winced when she felt how hot it was.

"Draco..."

"Why did you freak out like that?" asked Theo, taking the letter from Pansy's hand to read the beginning. "'I know everything'? Is that what scared you? Merlin, Draco, what secret are you hiding that would freak you out so much if your father found out?"

Draco didn't answer and used the sleeve of his jumper to pat his forehead.

"I just didn't eat enough." he lied pitifully. "I must have dozed off..."

"You always skip every other meal, and you had a piece of pie earlier." Pansy pointed out sternly. "You didn't "doze off.""

"That's the second time you've fainted in front of us." Blaise observed, his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

"I didn't faint, I just lost my balance!" protested Draco.

"If Theo hadn't been behind you, you'd have hit your head on the floor." Pansy accused.

Draco grumbled, glancing furtively at Theo:

"Thanks." he said coldly.

"My pleasure." Theo replied cynically. "Do you want me to stand behind you every time you read a letter from now on?

"Shut up." Draco replied.

He took his head in his hands and wiped the cold sweat from his skin. When his heartbeat had finally returned to normal and his vision no longer blurred, he allowed himself to look up. He was no longer dizzy.

"So I was right?" he asked in a raspy voice. "About the dog?"

"Yes... Apparently your father says he knows who it was..." said Pansy, confused. "I've only read the beginning..."

Theo handed him the letter and Draco started to read. Knowing that the letter didn't mention Granger, his father's handwriting suddenly seemed much less sinister.

Draco,

I know everything.

I've finally solved the riddle.

The dog at King's Cross Station had seemed very unusual to me, and I'd been trying to work out why it had acted so strangely around Potter all this time. I was convinced there was something to it. I discussed it with Alistair Crabbe, Percival Parkinson and Theodore Nott, but none of them knew of the existence of a dog in Potter's entourage.

Enter Peter Pettigrew, an old friend of Potter's father who had recently joined the ranks of the Death Eaters. He gave the Dark Lord the information that the dog was in fact an unclassified Animagus. It was, in fact, none other than Sirius Black!

"Sirius Black?!" exclaimed Draco in the middle of his reading.

"What? What's Black got to do with it?" asked Theo, baffled.

"It's him!" shouted Draco, looking at his friends in amazement. "The dog is an Animagus, it was Sirius Black!"

"What?!" shouted Theo and Pansy at the same time.

"You mean Sirius Black was less than twenty feet from us at the station?" shouted Blaise. "The serial killer, Sirius Black?"

"Keep reading!" Pansy hinted, pointing at the parchment. Draco bent over the letter again and read it in silence.

The Dark Lord has given us the information and asked us to keep an eye out. Sirius Black has officially joined the ranks of the enemy. I don't need to remind you, Draco, how dangerous this man is. I'm sure you remember his instability. If you see a black dog, don't think, just run. I don't want you to get hurt, or worse, just because you're not on the side of that bloody Potter and all his impure friends.

Don't worry any more than you have to, Draco. Now that the Dark Lord knows the size of Dumbledore's army, it will be easier to intercept them. Things will be better soon, I promise. In the meantime, keep your head down, be aware of your surroundings and let me know of anything suspicious. How is Potter being treated at Hogwarts? Has the Prophet been able to open any eyes to his disturbed mental state?

I've heard that the last of the mediocre teachers at Hogwarts are disappearing. I spoke to Cornelius the other day, and he told me that that oaf Hagrid had been spotted in a giants' camp, presumably sent by Dumbledore to rally them to their cause. Pathetic. He's probably crushed to death by now, so much the better.

But at least there are competent people in charge of this school! Draco, it is imperative that you approach Dolores Umbridge. She's the only sane person at Hogwarts these days, and she's an excellent teacher. I expect you to do very well in Defence Against the Dark Arts in your O.W.L.

I'm sending this letter late so it won't be read by prying eyes. Don't show it to anyone.

I'm counting on you.

Give my regards to Pansy.

Lucius Malfoy.

Draco finished the letter and immediately handed it to Pansy, Theo and Blaise, who read it eagerly. Theo, who was the fastest reader of the three, showed clear revulsion when he read his own father's name, but said nothing aloud. He did, however, react as soon as his eyes dropped low enough:

"Dolores Umbridge, an excellent teacher?!"

"Is that all you got from the letter?" snarled Draco. "Sirius Black is on the loose!"

"Still, it's a bit strange..." said Blaise, finishing the letter a few seconds later. "Your father tells you not to worry about the serial killer who hangs out with Potter, because another, much more powerful serial killer is supposed to be protecting you. It's pretty incoherent."

"I suppose it's better to have You-Know-Who on our side than Sirius Black." Draco said. "If He knows about his Animagus form, he won't last long."

"Anyway, I'm definitely not on "your" side anymore." Theo commented sarcastically, pointing to Lucius' last sentence. "He doesn't send me his regards anymore."

Despite his sarcasm, you could hear the sadness in his voice. Draco reread the sentence in question, "Give my regards to Pansy", and felt a little ashamed.

"Neither am I, it seems." Blaise added lightly. "My mother probably isn't held in such high esteem by him now that she's been married too many times."

Theo seemed reassured by this.

"Who cares who he says goodbye to?" said Pansy, snatching the parchment out of Blaise's hands. "We're together, that's the most important thing. We're on the same side."

She read the letter again. She had said it as a matter of course, but the prospect reassured Draco enormously. During that second of panic when he thought his father was going to disown him, he had felt excruciatingly alone. Now he understood Theo's condition and his desire to earn money a little better. Knowing that he could always count on them was so comforting that he let out a sigh of relief.

"So, just like that, Potter's got his precious godfather back." Blaise said calculatingly. "Badass."

"Badass?" Theo repeated in disbelief.

"Sirius Black is a serial killer." Blaise explained in a voice far too casual for the seriousness of what he was saying. "He managed to escape from Azkaban and he wasn't caught by the Death Eaters the whole time he was on the run. You have to admit, that's impressive."

"But I thought he wanted to kill Potter?" asked Pansy, frowning.

"Obviously not. Maybe he was on his side all along."

It was then that Draco realised what Sirius Black's presence on the platform implied. Granger! She had to know the true identity of that dog. Had she spent a whole summer with a serial killer? He absolutely had to ask her about it the next day.

"Anyway, there's some good news in this letter." Pansy said with a smirk.

"If you say Umbridge is good news, Pansy, I swear..." Theo began, on the verge of impatience.

"No, I meant Hagrid." she put her black manicured finger on the parchment. "Your father says he's probably dead."

Draco shrugged. He couldn't care less what happened to the old fool. The only thing that bothered him about this information was how upset Granger would be when she found out. She had always liked Hagrid, for some reason that was completely lost on him.

"This isn't exactly good news." Theo remarked dryly.

"Why?" Pansy said as she turned to him.

"No matter how much you dislike him, you can't say his death is good news." he said through clenched teeth. "Wishing someone death is a cruel thought."

"This is war, Theo." Pansy replied sourly. "There is no time to mourn the dead who are not our own."

Theo opened his mouth to reply, but Blaise stepped between them with a weary sigh:

"Stop arguing, both of you. We don't care about Hagrid, don't get upset over something so foolish. Draco, do you want to switch beds or can you get up?"

Draco got to his feet immediately:

"I'm perfectly fine." he said vehemently. "I will lie in my own bed."

And as if to prove it, he walked with heavy steps across the dormitory to reach his bed on the opposite side. Blaise rolled his eyes at his stubbornness and got under his covers. Theo returned to his, and Pansy went back to Draco's trunk to find some pyjamas.

"I can't believe that the dog in front of us at the station was actually a man." Blaise said, suppressing a shudder.

There was a silence as everyone seemed to digest this unpleasant information.

"Can you choose your form when you become an Animagus?" asked Pansy.

"No." Theo replied immediately, as if he'd been asked a question in class. "You can't choose. But it's said that the animal you turn into is similar to you in personality."

"What would you be?" asked Blaise.

"I'll never be an Animagus." replied Theo at once. "It's very complicated, and you can die if you fail, and..."

"I was just saying that hypothetically, Theo." Blaise clarified.

"Oh."

"I would be a dog." said Pansy without hesitation.

Blaise raised an eyebrow.

"Like Black?

"Not really." she replied, her head bent over Draco's trunk. "More like a white dog, like the Great Pyrenees breed."

Draco was not surprised. Dogs had always been Pansy's favourite animal and she knew all the breeds and their personalities. When they were little, she used to force Draco to play dog breed rankings to see which one they preferred. Her father had always refused to give her one, however, claiming that they had no special magical powers and were therefore "Muggle pets".

"That would be so cool." Blaise complimented, even though he probably didn't know this particular breed.

"And you Blaise, what would you be?" asked Draco.

"I don't know..." he said thoughtfully. "Maybe a fox... I like that animal, it's clever."

Everyone agreed, because it suited his personality perfectly.

"I think I'd be a wolf..." began Theo.

Blaise, Pansy and Draco burst out laughing at the same time. Theo frowned instantly:

"What? It's solitary, it lives in a pack, and it's very intelligent!" he defended himself, in a small voice that had nothing to do with a wolf's howl.

"It's also extremely ferocious. It hunts." Pansy noted.

She finally decided on a white t-shirt and blue shorts and went into the bathroom to put them on, leaving the door ajar to listen to the rest of the conversation.

"Theo, you know I love you, but you're nothing like a wolf." Blaise said with a mocking sneer. "You whined when the elves served rabbit the other day."

"What am I, then?" he asked in an impious tone.

"... An owl." Draco tried.

Theo pouted in disappointment as Blaise and Pansy (from the bathroom) exclaimed:

"Oh yes, that's brilliant!"

"An owl?" asked Theo indignantly. "That's rubbish!"

"Careful, if Ebony hears that, he'll come and peck your eyes out in the middle of the night." Draco warned with an amused grin.

"Why do you think I'm an owl?" moaned Theo.

"There's no reason, it just suits you." Blaise replied. "And it's intelligent too, much more so than wolves."

Theo wasn't convinced. He crossed his arms over his chest in the posture of a sulking child.

"Nonsense." he grumbled. "Now I want to become an Animagus just to prove to you that I'm a wolf."

They could clearly hear Pansy's laughter through the door as she changed. Theo's mouth twisted, giving him a grumpy expression.

"And what would I be?" asked Draco.

"Oh, for you, that's obvious." Blaise said with a smile.

"I know you're going to say a dragon, but I don't know if that really defines me... " began Draco.

Pansy came out of the bathroom in her improvised pyjamas.

"Oh, I wasn't going to say a dragon." Blaise cut in, still smiling. "I was going to say... a little ferret."

All three of them burst out laughing at the same time. It was Draco's turn to be grumpy.

"Come on, here we go again..." he muttered as he saw Pansy laughing her head off. "That's enough, I don't want to talk to you about animals ever again!"

He curled up into a ball on his bed and groaned. Just then there was a gentle knock on the dormitory door. Pansy straightened up, wiped the tears of laughter from the corners of her eyes and said softly:

"It's Daphne. I'm off. Good night, boys!"

"Good night Pans'!" replied Theo before she closed the door.

The mention of Daphne had managed to bring Blaise back to his sullen state. Theo closed the curtains on his four-poster bed after wishing the other two a good night, and Draco caught a glimpse of the beam of light through the curtain that his wand was projecting for him to read.

"Good night." Draco said in turn.

Blaise waved his hand in reply and they closed the green curtains of their beds. Talking with his friends had managed to distract him from his father's letter.

But now that he was alone, Draco opened the parchment again.

He could make out a few handwritten lines in the darkness if he squinted. He imagined Lucius sitting at his huge desk, taking the time to write a letter to his son, informing and warning him. Unexpectedly, the image made him smile a little.

He reread the passage he had skimmed over the first time: "If you see a black dog, don't think, just run. I don't want you to get hurt, or worse, just because you're not on the side of that bloody Potter and all his impure friends."

Draco felt a surge of affection for his father as he read his words. Even though he would have liked to be impassive, to feel nothing towards his father, Draco couldn't help but feel a little touched.

His father cared about him.

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The next morning, Daphne's eyes were still red at breakfast and her hair was a mess. Draco didn't know if it was because she'd had too much to drink, or because she was sad. She sat at the far end of the Slytherin table and avoided looking at Blaise throughout breakfast.

Pansy was in a better state, although her face showed an obvious lack of sleep. She sat down across from Draco with a grunt.

"How is she?" Blaise asked immediately.

"Bad." Pansy replied dryly. "She's been crying all night."

"But why?" asked Blaise pleadingly. "That was two months ago..."

"She was fine this summer." Pansy replied in a sentence interspersed with yawns that Draco found hard to understand. "But then she saw you again, and you were all happy, and she saw how well you took the separation... And that pissed her off."

"Of course he's taking the break-up well, he's the one who left her." Theo pointed out, but when he saw the look Blaise gave him, he added a "Sorry".

"I know I'm not supposed to meddle in your affairs and all..." Pansy said as she poured herself a large cup of black coffee. "But could you at least tell me why you left her? She refuses to tell me, and I find it hard to comfort her when I don't even know the reason."

"I don't like being in a relationship." Blaise said in a detached tone.

"Well, the others don't seem to mind." Theo commented, dipping his spoon into his hazelnut porridge.

"What others?" asked Draco, feeling like he'd missed something.

Theo pointed his spoon at a group of girls sitting at the table opposite the Slytherins. There were four of them, giggling quietly and pointing at Blaise.

Pansy turned to them and sighed in annoyance.

"Pathetic." she said, loud enough for the girls to hear.

They immediately fell silent. Theo looked at Pansy, then at her full cup of coffee and wrinkled his nose.

"And you? Did you get any sleep?" he asked.

"No." Pansy replied coldly. She was obviously in a very bad mood. "Daphne threw up until four, and then cried until morning."

Blaise grumbled when he heard this, still as devastated as ever. Draco didn't really understand why he felt so bad. It wasn't really his fault.

Pansy took a big gulp of scalding coffee and picked up an apple to chop into small pieces.

"I look awful." she continued. Her tone indicated that she was far more concerned about that than her lack of sleep. "I didn't even recognise myself in the mirror this morning."

She seemed to think for a second and glanced sideways at a blonde girl sitting a little further away. Draco was pretty sure she was Daphne's sister, but she'd grown so much it was hard to recognise her. When Pansy returned to her plate, Theo gave her a warning look. Draco didn't understand the silent exchange.

"You never look awful..." said Blaise, although he had his head completely turned towards Daphne at the other end of the table and it wasn't very clear who he was addressing.

Just then, there was a rustle of wings in the Great Hall and a hundred owls flew in through the window. As usual, one of the post owls landed in front of Blaise, who slipped a Knut into his pouch. Pansy snatched the newspaper out of his hands and scanned the first page quickly.

Her eyes slid along the cover, then she put it back on the table in a gesture so sudden that it almost spilled Theo's milk.

"Still nothing!" she exclaimed angrily. "I thought she'd be back from her holiday by now..."

"Skeeter?" guessed Theo.

"Still no article!" wailed Pansy. "She always goes to the Bahamas in the summer, but she's still not back..."

"Isn't she the one who usually writes the horoscopes?" asked Draco.

Pansy's face crumpled at the remark.

"Yes, she is." she hissed. "But now that Rita's on holiday, Celeste Valpan is taking her place, and she doesn't know anything about horoscopes!"

To prove her point, Pansy abruptly opened the newspaper to the last page and read aloud:

Scorpios: Work will be harder than ever, but don't give up, all your efforts will be rewarded at the end of the month. Don't hesitate to rest and enjoy your loved ones. Health: Beware of the autumn wind, it can be deceptive! Love: If you're single, enjoy your solitary bubble while you wait for the person you have your eye on to make the first move. If you're in a relationship, don't hesitate to give them a few little touches to rekindle the flame.

She looked up at them in dismay, as if they were supposed to realise how wrong this horoscope was compared to previous ones.

"Nonsense, from beginning to end!" insisted Pansy in a loud voice. "I never work, I never get sick in autumn, and I don't have anyone in sight!"

"That Celestia thing may be a bit of rubbish..." Theo tried timidly. "But maybe she's not completely wrong about you needing a bit of rest..."

Pansy gave him such a dark look that Theo swallowed and continued eating without saying anything. Pansy grumbled again as she read a few passages from the other horoscopes to show how wrong they were. Neither Theo, Blaise nor Draco dared to challenge her: she was far too irritated.

When Pansy got annoyed when she read that Aquarians had to "drink a lot of water" even though their planet was Uranus (no matter how many times Draco turned this explanation over in his head, he still didn't understand the connection), Blaise said distractedly:

"You should do that, Pans."

"Do what?" she asked aggressively.

"Write horoscopes for the Prophet." Blaise said. "You seem to know a lot more about it than that Celestia Valpan."

Pansy closed her mouth, suddenly thoughtful.

Draco had time to finish his coffee and green apple before she spoke again:

"Anyway, I'm not reading those rotten horoscopes until Rita gets back."

She snapped the paper shut and handed it to Blaise to read, as he did every morning.

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Hermione

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Hermione was watching Draco chatting to Pansy Parkinson at the Slytherin table when Ron suddenly exclaimed:

"On the plus side, no Snape today!"

He was obviously trying to cheer up Harry, who was at a low point mentally. He'd been given a week's detention with Umbridge for his insolence the day before. Between that, Hagrid's absence from the staff table and the grey skies above, Harry was in a very bad mood.

Hermione, on the other hand, was relatively happy that morning. Her conversation with Draco the day before had eased her worries. And all the hats she'd knitted for the elves the day before had disappeared.

She yawned and poured herself a cup of coffee. Ron squinted at her:

"What are you so happy about?" he asked.

Hermione, of course, only gave him the second reason:

"The hats are gone. The house-elves want to be free, it seems."

When she'd told the boys about her new knitting project to free the elves on the night of their first day back at school, Ron had been vile. Instead of congratulating her on her efforts, he had been outraged that she would dare to make "such a low blow" to the elves "who were being forced to be freed".

So, she wasn't very surprised when he replied sharply:

"I wouldn't bet on it. They're not really clothes. They look more like woollen bladders to me."

She didn't speak to him again for the rest of the morning.

When he and Harry left the table to go for a walk before classes started, she pretended to finish her breakfast so she wouldn't have to go with them. Ron made her furious! If he was going to be so vehement about the plight of the poor house elves, then she would stop helping him with his homework.

Hermione was just imagining Ron's confused face if she refused to help him when someone sat down across from her. Expecting to see Ginny, Hermione looked up and gasped slightly as she came face to face with Luna Lovegood.

"Good morning, Hermione." Luna said politely as she poured herself a cup of tea. "Did you sleep well?"

Hermione was so surprised that it took her several seconds to answer. Students from the Houses were allowed to switch tables during breakfast, but it was such an unusual practice that everyone watched Luna with puzzled looks.

"Yes, very well, thank you. And you?" Hermione replied, stammering a little.

Just then, Ginny arrived in the Great Hall and sat down to Luna's left. She didn't seem at all surprised at her intrusion at the Gryffindor table.

"Hello girls." Ginny said as she stretched. "How are you?"

"Fine, just a bit of a headache." Luna replied before Hermione could open her mouth. "But that's probably because I haven't had any water in three days."

Ginny spilled some pumpkin juice on the table.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, stunned. "Merlin, Luna, why haven't you had any water in three days?"

Luna's wild blue eyes turned to Ginny.

"I suspect the water is infested with Aquavirus larvae." she said very seriously.

Hermione had to take a sip of coffee to keep from reacting. Ginny just frowned:

"I don't think that's the case." she said in a sweet voice, like she was talking to a child. "Dumbledore wouldn't let his pupils drink contaminated water. Don't you think?"

Luna tilted her head to one side as if in deep thought, her blue eyes still fixed on Ginny.

"It's a good theory." she finally said, pouring herself a large glass of cool water.

Hermione didn't comment on the bizarre conversation. Luna Lovegood was definitely the strangest girl she had ever met.

Instead, she finished her coffee and looked at the time.

"I have to go, I've got Charms class in ten minutes..." she said as she picked up her bag.

Ginny finished her juice in one gulp and wrapped a napkin around a piece of toast:

"I'll come with you!" she said, stepping over the bench. "I need to ask Flitwick a question about the essay I have to do. See you later, Luna!"

She waved her hand, to which Luna replied vaguely, busy inspecting the jug of water.

When Hermione found herself in the corridor with Ginny, who was nibbling at her toast as they walked, she asked her:

"That Luna..."

"Hmm?"

"Luna." Hermione repeated more clearly. "She's a bit..."

She had no idea how to describe her. Thankfully, Ginny finished her sentence for her:

"Weird? Yeah, a bit." the redhead admitted with a shrug. "She's always going on about magical creatures I've never heard of, and I think she really believes her father's articles in the Quibbler. But I like her. She's a change from my girlfriends who talk about boys all the time."

"I'm not sure I like her very much..." Hermione confessed with a frown.

"I get it, she's quite fanciful whereas you're... Rational." Ginny said.

"You can say nerdy, you know." said Hermione with a smile.

"Never." replied Ginny. "You scare me too much."

They met the boys outside Charms class. Harry was as grumpy as ever. But when Ginny greeted him with a smile, he couldn't help but raise his eyebrows in surprise behind his round glasses. It had to be said that Ginny rarely had a conversation with him without turning as red as a peony.

"What are you doing here?" asked Ron gruffly. "You don't have Charms now, you're in fourth year."

"Good observation, Ronald." Ginny replied, rolling her eyes. "I just came to ask Flitwick a question for an assignment."

The door opened and the students took their seats. Ginny asked the teacher her question and by the time she left, everyone was settled. Flitwick stood on his pile of books behind his desk, watching the students with a smile hidden behind his moustache:

"Hello everyone!"

He received a few "hellos" scattered around the classroom.

"So, as you know, you're officially starting your fifth year. Your school career will therefore take a major turn at the end of the year with the O.W.L. What you should always bear in mind is that these exams can affect your future for years to come! If you haven't given serious thought to your career, now is the time to do so. And in the meantime, I'm afraid we're going to have to work harder than ever to make sure we give you the best possible chance!"

Hermione felt invigorated just hearing these words. She was more determined than ever to study, even if she didn't want to admit that one of the main reasons was who she was studying with.

They then practised the Summoning Charm. Hermione, who knew how to do Accio without saying it out loud, soon got bored. She helped Neville to pull the book towards him, while Harry (who had been as good at Accio as Hermione since the second Task of the Tournament), helped Ron.

Transfiguration was more difficult. McGonagall spent a good fifteen minutes stressing the importance of the O.W.L., and taught them the Vanishing spell, which would probably fall in the exams. Hermione already knew how to Conjure, but only the things she knew very well, so she was a little nervous.

She managed to make her snail Vanish on the third try, feeling the veins in her wrist pulsate with satisfaction, as they did every time she cast a spell that was a little more difficult. The effects of magic.

"Excellent, Miss Granger!" exclaimed McGonagall, who happened to be passing through the rows at that moment. "Excellent! Ten points for Gryffindor!"

Hermione smiled brightly. Ron, who was sitting behind her, patted her on the shoulder as soon as McGonagall had moved away.

"Merlin, Hermione, how did you do that?!"

Hermione ignored him.

"That's all for today." McGonagall announced to the class about thirty minutes later. "I'd like you all to practise Vanishing objects tonight, and we'll continue working on this spell tomorrow afternoon. Miss Granger, this duty is obviously excused for you."

Ron and Harry let out a mournful exclamation at the same time. Hermione rolled her eyes. It wasn't like she'd been warning them for five years that the O.W.L. were coming!

"We'll spend lunch in the Library working on Snape's essay." Harry said tiredly as they left the classroom. "Wanna come?"

"No, I'm going to lunch." she said. "See you later, in Care of Magical Creatures?"

Harry and Ron waved tiredly at her and they both walked away, shoulders hunched. Seeing them off like that, you'd think they'd been hard at work for six months.

Hermione spent lunch with Ginny, Neville, Fred and George, laughing and glancing sideways at Draco who sat three tables away.

Hermione then met Harry and Ron outside Hagrid's locked hut. Their faces were so glum that Hermione decided to stop sulking at Ron. Just as class was about to start, she heard Draco laughing behind her and unconsciously turned to face him. He was coming down the stairs with Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott and Pansy Parkinson. Crabbe and Goyle walked behind them.

"Is everyone here?" barked Professor Grubbly-Plank when all the Gryffindor and Slytherin students had arrived. "Then let's get started. Who can tell me the name of what we're looking at on that table?"

She pointed to a table where several branches were piled up. Hermione immediately raised her hand. The Bowtruckles then leapt into the air and stuck out their wooden arms and legs, causing Pansy Parkinson to scream.

"Oooohhh!" shouted Lavender and Parvati, infuriating Hermione.

"A little less noise, please, girls!" demanded Professor Grubbly-Plank. She reached into a box of wood lice and threw them at the Bowtruckles, who pounced on the food. "Now, does anyone know the names of these animals? Miss Granger?"

"They're Bowtruckles." Hermione replied. "They guard trees, especially the ones we use to make wands."

"Five points for Gryffindor." the teacher announced. "They are indeed Bowtruckles, and as Miss Granger so rightly says, they usually live in the trees whose wood is used to make wands. Who can tell me what they eat?"

"Wood lice." Hermione replied hastily. "But also fairy eggs, if they can get their hands on them."

"Very well, that's an extra five points. Bowtruckles may not look very dangerous, but if you make them angry, they try to pluck out human eyes with their fingers, which are very sharp, as you can see." (Parkinson winced in disgust). "Believe me, it's not at all advisable to let them get anywhere near your eye. Right, now, you're all going to take some wood lice and a Bowtruckle, about one for every three students, to study more closely. I want each of you to draw me a picture of the creature, showing all the body parts very accurately."

Hermione leaned over the table to choose the Bowtruckle that would be easiest to draw. She finally chose the longest one and went to sit on the grass with Ron.

Harry arrived a few minutes later:

"Grubbly-Plank won't tell me where Hagrid is." he grumbled. "And Malfoy just told me the strangest thing..."

Hermione looked up abruptly from her sketch of Bowtruckle.

"He did? What was it?" she asked, in what she hoped was a detached tone.

"He said Hagrid was probably badly hurt because he'd been messing around with stuff that was "too big for him", and he added "if you get my drift."

Hermione frowned. Why hadn't Draco told her the day before if he knew where Hagrid was?

"Are you sure he used the phrase "too big"?" asked Hermione.

"Yes, that's what struck me." Harry explained. "And I was thinking, his father is a Death Eater, maybe he's learned things about him that we don't know..."

The Bowtruckle had lost interest in the wood lice and was now trying to climb onto Ron's head. Hermione picked it up by the trunk and tried to pull it away with her other hand as she replied to Harry:

"Dumbledore would know if anything had happened to Hagrid. If we look worried, it'll play into Malfoy's hands. He'll know we don't know what's going on. We can't pay any attention to him, Harry. Hold this Bowtruckle for a moment so I can draw his face..."

Handing him the creature, Hermione risked a glance at Draco. He was sitting a little further away with Crabbe, Goyle and Parkinson. Nott and Zabini sat further back with another Bowtruckle.

Hermione then heard Draco's drawl:

"Father spoke to the Minister a few days ago, and it sounds as if the Ministry is really determined to crack down on substandard teaching in this place. So even if that overgrown moron turns up again, he'll probably be sent packing straight away."

Parkinson didn't react, too busy yelping in fear whenever the Bowtruckle came near. Crabbe and Goyle were very interested, but Hermione was sure that his sentence was not meant for them.

As she said this, Draco turned his head towards her, his gaze victorious. She puckered her lips and turned her attention back to her sketch, determined not to play his annoying game.

"OUCH!" shouted Harry.

Harry had probably squeezed the Bowtruckle too hard in anger, because it flew out with a wrathful look on its bark face. Harry's hand was covered in blood.

"Merlin, Harry!" exclaimed Ron. "What did you do that for?"

"Malfoy pissed me off." he replied, through clenched teeth.

Hermione wiped the blood from his hand and wrapped a handkerchief around his palm without saying anything. She hadn't finished her sketch, but she didn't dare point it out, because Harry was furious. When the bell announced the end of class, he was walking so fast towards the Castle that Hermione had to trot behind him at full speed.

"If he ever calls Hagrid a moron again..." he growled.

"Harry, don't pick a fight with Malfoy, remember he's a Prefect now, he could make life difficult for you..." she advised.

"Wow, I wonder what it'd be like to have a difficult life?" replied Harry, full of sarcasm.

Hermione pressed her lips together and did not reply. She glanced sideways at Ron, who shrugged vaguely.

The Herbology class was on the properties of dragon dung, but Hermione didn't raise her hand this time. She preferred to spend the class glancing at Harry, to gauge his mood.

.

.

---

Draco

---

.

.

Arriving at the round table in the Library was a disconcerting experience for Draco. At the same time, he had missed the place terribly, but he also felt as if he had spent his entire summer there. He had perfected his Occlumency so much during his long periods of boredom at the Manor that he had been able to imagine this place in the Library in every detail: the colour of the dark wood of the table, the smell of the paper and cinnamon that seemed to be embedded in the walls, the light from the window that illuminated the table in different places as the sun set.

But despite the precision of the image he had managed to etch into his memory, there was one crucial detail missing that Occlumency would never be able to reproduce: the sense of calm he felt as soon as he sat there. His mind would never be able to capture that peace, that gentle warmth he felt when he sat at that round table, seeping into his pores and making it easier for him to breathe.

Draco had said the year before that his favourite place in the world was the fountain in his garden, but it was clear now that this was no longer the case. He now had the same answer as Granger: the Hogwarts Library.

So he sat down, looked around and sighed with pleasure before taking out his things. Theo had not underestimated the amount of homework they would have to do this year: Draco already had two essays to write, including one in Transfiguration that was going to be particularly difficult. He opened his textbook to the page on Vanishing Spells, cut out a piece of parchment, dipped his quill in it and began to compose his essay.

He thought of Granger, who could make her teacup disappear so easily it was almost annoying, and just then, Granger arrived.

"Good evening, Granger." Draco greeted as soon as he saw her.

Today, her hair was tied back with a blue barrette, but a few curls still fell around her face.

"Good evening, Draco." she replied with a small smile. "I didn't think you'd be here so soon."

She sat down across from him and took out her things, a dozen books scattered all over the place and her green cup of tea.

"Two essays due, a drawing of Bowtruckle to finish, a quiz on the Giant's War to complete and practising the Vanishing Spell." Draco listed in a tired voice. "I had to come so early."

Granger chuckled and opened her schedule. For the first time since he'd known about the notebook, Draco found himself wishing he had one to organise his work.

"Are you doing the essay for Transfiguration?" she asked, glancing down at his parchment.

"Yes. Don't tell me you've finished it already?" he growled.

"No, McGonagall hasn't asked us to do it yet." she replied. "I think she wants us to succeed with the spell before she makes us write on it."

"Let them succeed." Draco corrected.

Granger looked up from her planning, confused:

"What do you mean?"

"You can already do Vanishing Spells." he reminded her. "I saw you make your teacup disappear last time."

"Oh." Granger replied, taken aback by the remark. "Yes, I suppose I did. But I can only do it with very familiar objects that I know by heart..."

Draco snorted.

"You don't have to be modest with me, Granger." he said, seeing her look of surprise. "I'm probably the most arrogant boy at Hogwarts in your eyes, you're entitled to show off in front of me."

Granger's mouth dropped open in surprise. Then, a shy smile gently curled her lips:

"Well, actually... I managed to make my snail disappear in three tries." she admitted proudly.

Draco couldn't help but smile at her Miss Know-It-All expression.

"And you weren't very familiar with your snail, were you?" asked Draco.

"No, not really." she admitted with a smile.

"Merlin, Granger, I don't understand why you keep studying." Draco said with a sigh, looking down at his own barely started homework. "You'll get the maximum O.W.L. anyway, even if you suddenly stopped working for the whole year."

"You have to make the snail Vanish on the first try for the O.W.L." Granger pointed out in her high-pitched voice. "The last thing I need is to rest on my laurels."

"You're probably the only one who managed to make him Vanish that quickly." Draco said. "Theo only managed it in five tries."

Surprisingly, Granger seemed pleased with this information: she started her homework with a big smile on her face that she couldn't hide.

They worked for a good hour. Draco was a quarter of the way through his essay when he put down his quill and stretched with difficulty. Tired of reading mathematical formulae for spells, he preferred to watch the girl in front of him.

She was finishing her sketch of Bowtruckle from Herbology, working so hard on the lines that she was sticking out her tongue a little without realising it. Draco looked at her drawing for several minutes, which was even more precise than the one in the textbook, and suddenly remembered his discovery from the day before.

Sirius Black.

Granger had spent the summer with Sirius Black. He'd wanted to ask her a lot of questions, but he'd learned not to confront Granger directly, or she might get defensive. So, he preferred to use a much more Slytherin method.

"Granger?" he called.

"Hmm?"

"Which animal would you take the form of if you were to become an Animagus?"

Draco had to applaud Granger's effort: she didn't show any surprise at hearing the question, although he'd expected her to blush at his insinuation.

"You can't choose the form you take as an Animagus." she said, still hunched over her drawing of Bowtruckle.

"I know." Draco said impatiently. "But if you were to become an Animagus, what form would you take?"

"I would never become an Animagus, the preparation is particularly atrocious..." she replied in a distant tone. "And I've already given in to animal transformations to try the experiment again."

He opened his mouth to reply, but was stopped by the second part of her sentence. Draco was so surprised that his whole machiavellian Slytherin plan evaporated from his mind and he could only ask:

"Huh?"

Granger looked up from her drawing for a second to give him a jaded look:

"Second year. I turned into a cat because of a failed potion." she explained in a sullen voice.

"Wh-what?" cried Draco, horrified at this information. "What potion?"

"Polyjuice Potion, which I made myself." she replied, as if telling him the most banal of anecdotes. "I made a mistake with one of the ingredients and turned into a cat. It really wasn't a pretty sight."

"That's why you spent a month in the hospital wing?!" cried Draco in shock.

He had never been able to solve this mystery. He'd often wondered what could have caused Granger to spend a whole month in hospital, but he'd never imagined it could have been for this.

Hearing this question, Granger raised her head again, her eyebrows raised:

"Yes. I'm surprised you remembered."

He easily recognised the quote from the letter she'd sent him that summer: he'd read it at least twenty times and knew it practically by heart.

"Of course I remember." he said, shocked and amused at the same time. "We were sure you were petrified."

"No, not quite yet." she said bitterly.

"Wait, does that mean you managed to brew Polyjuice Potion in second year?" Draco realised in astonishment. "On your own?!"

"Not really, since I failed it." she said, still concentrating on her drawing so that he couldn't see her face. "And I won't try it again, it tasted disgusting."

Draco thought about this new discovery for a few minutes. He knew that Granger was an extremely talented witch, but he found it hard to believe that anyone could make such a potion at the age of twelve, failed or not.

Finally, he focused again:

"Then, you wouldn't be a cat." he said.

"For what?" asked Granger, her nose still glued to the bloody drawing, preventing her from fully concentrating on the conversation.

"For your Animagus form." Draco repeated sharply. "Which would you be?"

"I have no idea Draco!" Granger snapped impatiently. "Certainly not a Bowtruckle, at any rate..."

"Or a dog, like Sirius Black!" he blurted out angrily.

So much for his sneaky attempt at Slytherin, his anger had once again got the better of him. How could that insufferable girl make him lose his temper every time?

Granger dropped her quill in surprise, leaving a large ink stain upon impact. Her eyes were fixed on Draco, her mouth agape, fear on her features. They said nothing for several seconds, their eyes locked.

He had to admit, reading the shock on her face was as intoxicating as ever. He loved shocking her.

"I..." she stammered.

"It's no use telling me you don't know what I'm talking about, Granger." Draco announced firmly. "I can see from your face that I'm right."

Granger swallowed and Draco could see her throat tighten as she inhaled.

A glimmer of understanding came into her chocolate eyes:

"It's your father, isn't it?"

It was Draco's turn to hide his surprise.

"My father?"

"Earlier, in Herbology class, you said your father told you about Hagrid's classes." Granger said in an jerky voice. "And you didn't know about the dog yesterday... It was your father who told you, wasn't it? Did he send you a letter to tell you?"

Draco nodded, amazed that she could make the deduction in such a short time.

"He told you the dog was Sirius Black?" she continued in a hurried tone. "Was he the one who recognised him on the platform at the station?"

"No!" countered Draco, annoyed at the remark. "I was the one who said the dog was strange, I knew there was something behind it! My father only told me the identity of the Animagus!"

"So the Dark Lord knows..." Granger summed up, her eyes suddenly unfocused.

She was lost in her own thoughts. He could see it in her increasingly clouded eyes. This was common with her: she would go away for a few seconds, or even several minutes, to think about a problem on her own. Sometimes, she would even stammer out intelligible words as she thought without realising it.

Draco didn't like not being part of her thoughts, so he interrupted:

"Granger, that man is dangerous! How can you be standing next to him when you know it's Sirius Black hiding behind that dog? Do you know what he's done?"

Granger returned to the present moment and rested her calm gaze on Draco. She seemed to be thinking carefully about what she was going to say next.

"Sirius isn't dangerous, Draco." she said quietly, as if to reassure him.

Draco frowned, surprised that she would dare call him by his first name.

"Yes, he is." he challenged, feeling the shivers of anger run down his arms. "He's a serial killer, Granger. He's killed thirteen people, twelve of them Muggles! How can you be around him knowing that?! Muggles, Granger!"

"Sirius didn't do it." she replied, in a calm voice he hadn't expected and which irritated him to no end. "He was falsely accused. It was Pettigrew who committed those crimes, and then he framed Sirius, who was sent to prison when he was innocent."

"No, that's not true." Draco said, although the words were beginning to make him doubt himself.

"Think about it Draco." Granger intimated. "Who told you that Sirius Black was dangerous?"

Draco was slow to answer. He could see where she was going with this.

"My father." he hissed through clenched teeth.

"And who is calling for Sirius Black to be found?" Granger continued. "Who claims he is a dangerous serial killer and should be returned to Azkaban, when he has never committed another crime since his escape?"

"... Fudge." said Draco, suddenly understanding.

"Your father knows Sirius isn't a serial killer." she explained. "He just wants to continue the Ministry's ridiculous campaign to keep everyone focused on him and not the real crimes that are being committed every day..."

"...The crimes committed by my father." Draco finished bitterly.

The anger had left his body. Now all he felt was a vague sense of unease that made him feel sick. This discovery was even more devastating than that of the dog. He had never imagined that Granger could defend this guy.

As much as he hated to admit it, he knew she was right. Her explanation was far more logical than his father's. But for some obscure reason, he didn't want to admit it. Maybe because if Granger's revelation was true, then his father hadn't really been worried about him. Maybe because if he'd lied in his letter, Draco would have had no reason to fall asleep holding it pathetically close to him.

He thought back to what Blaise had said the day before when he'd finished Lucius' letter: "Your father tells you not to worry about the serial killer who hangs out with Potter, because another, much more powerful serial killer is supposed to be protecting you. It's pretty incoherent."

"Sirius is Harry's godfather." Granger continued in a quiet voice. "I spent the summer with him and he's very nice, I assure you."

"I don't like that very much." Draco admitted hoarsely. "That you spent the summer with a..."

He didn't really know how to describe it. Even if Granger's explanation made sense, he still had a bad feeling about the man.

"I know. And I understand it's a lot to take in, but you need to know. The Ministry is lying. Sirius is no more a killer than I am."

Draco looked down at his Transfiguration scroll without looking at it. He was doing the same thing Granger had done without realising it: getting lost in his own thoughts. He'd been so worried over the summer when Granger had gone to the Burrow and he hadn't heard from her. He couldn't imagine Granger spending her days with the most wanted man in the country. As much as she wanted him to think he was a nice guy, Draco couldn't really imagine Granger and Sirius Black having a friendly chat in the same room.

"Draco." Granger called, suddenly much more serious. He lifted his head and her face now showed an expression of urgency. "You must promise not to tell anyone. Sirius is my friend, Draco. Please, don't say anything that could compromise him."

Draco frowned, not expecting such a pleading tone.

"What do you mean?"

"You have very confidential information now." she explained in a low voice. "You found out his secret all by yourself, and it's important that you know the truth about him, so that you understand what Fudge and your father are trying to put into your head... But you can't tell anyone else."

"Why?" he asked haughtily. "My father obviously knows all this already. What difference would it make if I told him?"

"You can't tell that kind of secret to... The other side." Granger said, her voice dropping more and more to a whisper. "Dumbledore could get into trouble..." (Draco chuckled bitterly but Granger continued) "So could Harry, and most of all... me."

"You?" he repeated, suddenly anxious.

"Yes, me! I'm the one who leaked the information, and if anyone found out that I was telling such secrets to the son of a Death Eater... I'd be considered a spy, a traitor. I'd lose everything. Draco, you must promise not to tell anyone. This is a secret far beyond us."

Draco's heart sank at the look of dismay on her face. He immediately shook his head:

"I won't say anything, Granger. I promise."

She exhaled, her tense shoulders dropping in relief. Draco hadn't thought she could be so stressed about this. For him, finding out who this dog was had been just another puzzle, another secret to unravel about Granger. He hadn't realised it could involve people much higher up.

"Thank you, Draco." she said sincerely.

He nodded and rested his eyes on his essay, which he had completely forgotten about.

He was now in possession of a secret that very few people knew, and that was both terrifying and gratifying.

Granger finished her drawing of Bowtruckle in stony silence. She was a little less focused than before, though. Draco wondered what she might be thinking. Was she having doubts? Was she afraid that she had told him such an important secret?

Yet Draco was sure of himself. If Granger was in danger, he wouldn't tell anyone. Her safety was more important than anything. He still didn't know who to trust in this war, but he did know one thing: he would always protect Granger, no matter what the cost.

Granger finally finished her sketch and opened her Arithmancy textbook, but quickly closed it with an exasperated sigh:

"I can't get any work done." she grumbled.

"Neither can I." Draco admitted. "Do you want to go to the bench?"

Against all odds, Granger nodded. She must have been in a moment of great distress to stop working like this. Draco said nothing, not wanting her to change her mind. He hastily packed his things and left the Library at a reasonable distance from Granger, so that no one would suspect that they were walking together.

They reached the bench and sat down without speaking. It could only have been 8pm, but there was no one left in the Castle grounds. Granger looked at the facade in front of her and Draco could almost feel the heat coming from her head as she thought so hard.

"Granger, relax." he finally said. "I promised you I wouldn't say anything!"

"Even to Pansy?" she asked, hastily turning her head towards him. "Theodore? Blaise?"

"I won't tell them if you don't want me to." Draco promised. "Anyway, it was just me who was so obsessed with finding out what was behind that dog. They won't ask me anything."

Granger nodded and leaned back against the back of the bench in a more comfortable position.

"Merlin, I can't believe you found out about this." she murmured.

"I'm not as stupid as you think, Granger." he growled.

"I don't think you're stupid." she said, her eyes still on the facade. "On the contrary, I find you... very clever."

As he did every time she complimented him, he suddenly forgot his bad mood and suppressed a feeling of pride.

"That's because you spend all your time with Weasley and Potter." he said with a small laugh. "You're not used to anyone having a sense of observation."

"Maybe..." she said vaguely.

They said nothing for a long time. Draco was able to use the silence to gather his own thoughts. Now that he knew the truth about Black, he wondered if his father had lied to him or if he had blindly believed the Ministry. Besides, Lucius had mentioned this "Peter Pettigrew" in his letter...

"My God, what's he doing here?" squeaked Granger suddenly, snapping Draco out of his thoughts.

He turned his head in the direction she was looking. On the path leading to the Quidditch pitch, he could make out the silhouette of someone walking with a broom under his arm. As the figure approached the Castle, Draco recognised Weasley, his red hair ruffled by the autumn wind.

Fortunately, the bench was hidden by a tree trunk which prevented him from seeing Granger and Draco together. In any case, the red-haired man's eyes remained fixed on the ground and he entered through the main door, his back arched with fatigue.

"What's he doing here?" repeated Granger, clearly disturbed by Weasley's presence. "I thought he was doing his homework in the Common Room tonight..."

Her tense face suddenly relaxed as she realised.

"Oh..."

"What?" asked Draco sharply.

"He's training." she said simply, as if Draco was supposed to understand everything that was going through her head.

"Training for what?" he asked impatiently.

"Quidditch." she replied, biting her lip, her eyes still on the path to the pitch. "I should have figured it out sooner, he's been acting weird since the start of term... When are the team roles scheduled again?"

"Friday." Draco said, finally understanding. "Is that why he's here? Do you really think he's training?" he asked, unable to hide the contempt in his voice.

"Why would he have his broom under his arm?" said Granger.

Draco wasn't sure if that was a real question or just a thought out loud. He let out a disdainful sneer.

"Probably to become a Keeper since your old Captain left." Draco guessed. "Pathetic."

"He's not pathetic!" Granger retorted, finally tearing himself away from contemplating the path to glare at Draco.

"Does he even play well?" he asked.

"I don't know, I don't know a thing about Quidditch..."

Draco rolled his eyes: he was sure she thought otherwise, but didn't dare say so in front of him. He scowled at the back of the bench. After a few minutes, he asked her:

"Do you remember what you said to me in second year, the day I joined the Slytherin team?"

"No, I only remember when you called me Mud..." Granger began angrily.

"Before that." Draco cut in, not wanting to hear that insult come out of her mouth. "I announced that I was in the team, and you said that no one in the Gryffindors had paid to be in it, and that they were all chosen for "their talents.""

Granger frowned and nodded silently. Draco pointed to the Quidditch pitch, which was so dark it was hard to make out the six hoops.

"Weasley's only in the team because he's Potter's best friend. You know that, don't you?"

"You don't know that, you've never seen him play!" she protested.

"I don't need to, I already know he's rubbish!" objected Draco loudly.

"Nonsense. That's why I hate this sport, it creates pointless rivalries between you all!" Granger lamented, crossing her arms stubbornly.

Draco didn't insist. He knew he was right. Weasley was just as talented at Quidditch as Theo. If he was taken as Keeper, it was an injustice, and Granger was far too loyal to notice.

She stood up after a few minutes. She looked troubled, as if the amount of information they had shared that evening had been particularly difficult to bear. He had to admit that his head was about to explode too.

"I'm going back upstairs." she informed him dryly. "Harry will have finished his detention with Umbridge by now and I'd like to see him before he goes to bed."

Draco nodded.

"Good night, Granger."

She nodded, turned and took a few steps, stopping suddenly, hesitating. She stumbled from one foot to the other for a moment, obviously deep in new thoughts, before turning and walking back to the bench:

"Draco, I..."

"I won't say anything." he assured her one last time, certain that this was what was bothering her. "I promised you I wouldn't say anything, Granger. You trust me, don't you?"

He gave nothing away on his face, but his heart pounded against his ribs as he waited for the answer to that question. Granger pursed her lips, her eyebrows furrowed, before nodding:

"Yes. Yes, Of course I trust you."

And she returned to the Castle without another word.

.

.

---

Hermione

---

.

.

The next day, when Hermione had asked Harry what he'd had to do during his detention with Umbridge the day before, he'd simply replied, "Lines." It might have been a decent answer, if Harry hadn't looked down at the floor when he'd said it, clear evidence that he was lying.

She hadn't insisted, though, sure that he would tell her eventually, when he was ready.

On Wednesday evening, Hermione spent the evening in the Library with Draco, finishing her Potions test. She returned shortly after Ron, who had changed and pretended to have spent the evening in the Common Room, knowing full well that he had been practising on the Quidditch pitch all evening.

On Thursday evening, Draco had his private Alchemy class, so she preferred to stay in the Common Room. She was knitting hats for the elves on the sofa next to Ginny, chatting about the latest news from Hogwarts. She was finishing her little sky-blue bob when Harry and Ron entered the Common Room at the same time. Ron hurried to the boys' dormitory, hiding something behind his back, and Harry took a seat next to Hermione.

"Harry, you look exhausted." Hermione observed, seeing the dark circles under her best friend's green eyes.

"That's because I am." he grumbled. "Umbridge keeps me up at all hours, I'm sure she does it so I don't have time to do my homework..."

He rubbed his eyes and yawned.

"Where did Ron go?" asked Ginny.

"Dropping something off at the dormitory." Harry replied. He looked around and leaned in so that only the two girls could hear him. "Actually, don't tell the others, but... Ron's training to be a Keeper."

Ginny let out a small gasp of surprise, but Hermione remained impassive:

"Yeah, I thought so." she said.

"What?" Harry gasped. "Hermione, how do you know everything?"

"I don't know everything, far from it." she said in a low voice. "Harry, does he... does he have a chance?" she asked in a whisper.

"I don't know." Harry admitted. "I've never seen him play as a Keeper."

"I've seen him play a few times and he's quite good." Ginny said thoughtfully. "Fred and George used to put him in there to train during the holidays, at the Burrow."

Hermione nodded, relieved. She didn't want Ron to suffer rejection, he would take it terribly. Just then, the redhead arrived and sat down on the arm of the sofa:

"What are you talking about?" he asked.

"Hermione's hats." Ginny replied immediately. "Aren't they pretty?"

Ron refrained from commenting and Hermione frantically waved her needles to hide her annoyance at this lack of response.

.

.

.

.

The next day, after school, Harry went to Umbridge's office with a glum look on his face, while Hermione and Ron went to the Quidditch pitch.

Hermione had never seen Ron so stressed, even about exams. She kept looking at him sideways the whole way. He was gripping the handle of his broom so tightly that his knuckles were white.

"Don't worry, Ron." she encouraged him gently as she saw his pale face. "You'll get the hang of it."

He turned to her and seemed to relax slightly as he heard this.

"You think so?" he asked, his voice shaking.

"Of course I do! Try to keep a cool head. Don't let the stress build up and concentrate on your performance. Take deep breaths and don't look at the others, it'll break your concentration." she advised with a reassuring smile.

"Thank you, Hermione." he said honestly. "I'll try to remember."

She squeezed his hand affectionately, then went to sit in the stands. She was the only one watching the trials. She saw Ron take his place in the line of several other students, just below the goals.

A few minutes later, the Gryffindor team arrived on the pitch, led by Angelina, the new captain. Fred and George made no attempt to hide their shock at seeing their brother.

"Right, we're going to start." Angelina announced in a loud voice. "We're going to play as normal, and each of you will go through the hoops for about ten minutes. Your aim, of course, is to allow as few goals as possible. Everyone ready?"

The potential Keepers nodded. The players mounted their brooms and took their positions for the match.

"Hooper, you start!" Angelina announced.

The boy was shaking so badly that it took him a good minute to get on his broom. Hermione saw Angelina give Katie Bell a knowing look. He took over as Keeper for ten minutes and only missed one Quaffle. However, he ended his trial in tears, for no apparent reason.

Hermione watched each of the attempts, calculating the number of saves each time. A first year boy failed to stop a single Quaffle and ended his try on the bench, sobbing. A sixth year girl, whom Hermione vaguely recognised from seeing her studying in the Common Room sometimes, managed to stop all of them and even did a little loop in the air to celebrate her success. Hermione clearly saw Ron flinch at the sight.

Ron was second last. He got on his broom and flew to the hoops. He looked as stressed as ever, but he had also put on such a concentrated expression on his pale face that even Fred and George didn't dare laugh at him.

"Come on, Ron..." Hermione muttered through clenched teeth without realising it. "Concentrate..."

It was the first time Hermione had ever been so absorbed in a game of Quidditch. The team sent eight Quaffles in the ten minutes, and Ron managed to stop six of them. Each time, Hermione couldn't help but let out a squeal of delight. As the game went on, Ron's spirits rose. He even sent Hermione a confident smile towards the end of his attempt.

"All right, that's enough!" shouted Angelina after blowing her whistle. "Well done Ron, you can come back down."

Ron landed, his ears flushed. As the last potential Keeper took his place, Hermione and Ron exchanged excited smiles.

Angelina ended the game early, sending the last Keeper away before he had even reached the pitch. There were still three players on the pitch, including the sixth year who had managed to counter all the Quaffles. Angelina landed and chatted to each of them in a low voice. Hermione crossed her fingers in her pocket so hard it hurt.

Ron and the other two finally nodded and Angelina went back to the changing rooms.

When the redhead climbed the steps to the stands, Hermione could not tell if he had been taken in the team by his facial expression. He was completely unreadable. She stood up, her heart pounding, pretty sure he was going to tell her that the sixth year had been taken instead of him. But as he stood in front of her, his freckled face broke into a wide, bright smile:

"It's me! Hermione, it's me! I'm in!"

"Oh!" she exclaimed happily. "Oh, Ron, I'm so happy for you!"

The relief was so great that Hermione rose on tiptoe to hug him, knocking Ron's broom over in the process. He automatically hugged her back, and she felt herself pressed against his chest by the strength of his embrace.

"I'm so relieved! Oh, when I tell Harry!" he cried, joy surging through his voice.

Hermione smiled against Ron's jumper. He smelled of the Burrow, the smell of the Weasleys: wood fires, wool and comfort. She expected him to loosen his grip, but Ron did something she hadn't expected at all: he rested his chin on her hair and held her lightly against him, not loosening his arms around her as she hugged him tightly.

Hermione had given Harry dozens of hugs in her life, but very few to Ron. This was such a completely new kind of contact that it sent shivers down her spine. Why did it feel different when it was him, and not Harry?

It felt good, and it gave her strange sensations in her lower abdomen. But this embrace reminded her of another, in a Muggle park, in the sunshine.

Hermione couldn't help but compare the two.

Ron's arms were stronger. He was pressing her against him, almost preventing her from breathing properly, and the contact gave her little butterflies in her stomach. She could feel his skin warm from the effort through her Quidditch robes. It was a comforting embrace, almost familiar despite its rarity.

Draco's had been completely different. He hadn't held her like that, but his hands had rested naturally on her waist, and Hermione remembered the trail of shivers his fingers had given her. She remembered the minty smell of him on his clothes, the cold skin that had sent shivers down her body despite the summer heat. She remembered how Draco had managed to convey all his feelings to her through his embrace without speaking, as if their bodies had become one during that time. She remembered how he had rested his cheek on her head and breathed in the scent of her hair, and how she had wanted to stay in his arms for hours, even though she would never have admitted it.

Hermione hated herself for thinking about him at that moment. This was a moment with Ron. She was supposed to enjoy this kind of closeness, he was the one she was supposed to love. All her life.

But Draco was always on her mind these days.

They finally pulled away and gave each other an awkward little smile. Ron was flushed, and Hermione probably was too. Her hands were clammy and she realised she could hear her own heart beating against her skin, something she rarely felt.

"Shall we go back to the Castle?" offered Ron, picking up his broom.

"Yes, come on!" she said a little too cheerfully.

Fortunately, the moment of embarrassment only lasted a few seconds. Ron managed to lighten the mood once they were walking side by side on the way back. He told her about each trial as if she hadn't been there, and she listened intently. He seemed so pleased with himself that it was contagious: she smiled fondly as she listened to him, Draco's words about Ron's Quidditch skills fading from her mind at the same time. She felt nothing but deep relief for Ron and joy at seeing him so happy.

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That evening, Fred and George threw a big party in the Common Room to celebrate Ron's joining the team. Ron was blushing with joy. Hermione knew he valued his brothers' opinions, and their congratulations were an honour he accepted with the greatest respect.

Ginny took charge of the music with her witch radio, which played a thunderous rock sound. She shook her hair to the rhythm of the music, an almost hypnotic movement that made Hermione's eyelids droop despite her efforts to stay awake.

But soon, Hermione began to feel a little dizzy. It had to be said that she had spent the previous evening knitting far too late and it had been a long day. She fell asleep in the armchair in front of the fire, which kept her warm. Fred and George had (obviously) given her a bottle of Butterbeer, but Hermione hadn't wanted to drink it: the taste of toffee always reminded her of an evening she was desperately trying to forget.

She woke with a start when she heard a noise next to her. It was Harry, just back from his late detention with Umbridge. He had put down his bag and sat down heavily in the chair next to her.

"Oh, Harry, it's you..." she mumbled sleepily. "Good for Ron, isn't it? I'm so... so tired!" she added with a yawn. "I worked until one in the morning making more hats. They're disappearing so fast!"

"That's good." Harry replied with a nod.

She focused her vision on the boy in front of her. He was sitting in his favourite armchair, his eyes fixed on the fire in front of him, looking rather upset. His leg was shaking and his left eye twitched behind his glasses.

"Harry? Are you all right?" she asked cautiously.

He looked away from the fire and towards Hermione, looking worried.

"The strangest thing happened to me earlier." he confided in a low voice. "I was in Umbridge's office for my detention, and she came up to me and grabbed my arm... And when she touched me, I felt this excruciating pain on my forehead, right where my scar is. That's strange, isn't it?" he asked, looking at Hermione's confused face. "Just when she touches me, my scar hurts..."

"You're afraid that You-Know-Who is controlling her like he controlled Quirrell?" asked Hermione.

"Well, it's a possibility, isn't it?" replied Harry, lowering his voice.

"I suppose..." she replied slowly. "But I don't think he could possess her in the same way he possessed Quirrell. You see, he's got his own life now, his own body, so he doesn't have to share anyone else's anymore. Of course, he could dominate her with the Imperial Charm..."

Harry looked away. He was obviously disappointed by her lack of conviction in his theory.

"Last year..." she continued. "Your scar hurt when no one touched you, and Dumbledore said it was to do with the emotions You-Know-Who was feeling at the time, remember? Maybe it's nothing to do with Umbridge, maybe it's just a coincidence?"

"She's evil." Harry cut in blankly. "She's twisted..."

"She's horrible, yes." Hermione admitted with a grimace. "But, Harry, I think you should go and tell Dumbledore that your scar is hurting you."

"I don't want to bother him." Harry muttered. "Like you said, it's not too bad. I've felt the pain coming and going all summer... It just hurt a bit more tonight, that's all."

"Harry, I'm sure Dumbledore would want you to bother him about it." Hermione argued.

"Yes, it's the only thing about me that Dumbledore is interested in. My scar."

"Don't say that, it's not true!" she replied in horror.

"I think I'll write to Sirius instead and ask him what he thinks..." Harry began.

"Harry, you can't write that in a letter!" exclaimed Hermione. "Remember, Moody warned us to be careful what we wrote! We can't be sure that our owls won't be intercepted!"

"All right, all right, in that case I won't tell him anything!" Harry replied grumpily.

He ran a nervous hand through his hair, and Hermione noticed a streak of blood on his hand and let out a scandalised cry.

"Oh my God, Harry! Your hand!"

Without him having a chance to flinch, she grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand towards her to look at it. At first, she thought it was the wound the Bowtruckle had given him in Herbology that had reopened. But then, she saw to her horror that it wasn't the case at all.

""I must not tell lies"?" she read in a panicked voice. "Harry, what is this?"

On the back of Harry's hand was a phrase branded into his flesh, as if someone had written it with a white-hot iron. Hermione recognised Harry's handwriting, the letters crowded together a little. His hand was mangled, with bloodstains along the skin where each letter had been embedded in his raw flesh.

"It's nothing." he muttered, trying to get his hand back.

"What do you mean, nothing?" exclaimed Hermione, her voice rising dangerously high. "Who wrote this on your hand?"

Harry sighed and gave in to tell her:

"It's Umbridge." he announced gravely. "She makes me copy this sentence every night in detention, and instead of being written on parchment, it's written on my hand... With my blood."

Hermione immediately gagged.

"Harry, you have to complain to someone." she said firmly. "To McGonagall or Dumble..."

"I've already told you. Dumbledore has other things to do." Harry snapped.

He pulled his hand away from Hermione's and unconsciously massaged where his skin was blistered from the mutilation. Hermione pursed her lips but said nothing, knowing full well how Harry would react if she insisted. Instead, she looked at the back of his hand and felt a wave of anger at Umbridge wash over her. The woman was so vicious...

So, as Harry stared silently into the fire, Hermione thought of a way to get revenge.

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The next morning, Hermione was doing her homework at the Gryffindor table when Draco entered the Great Hall. Without knowing why, Hermione sensed it was him before she even saw him. She looked up mechanically to see him sitting with his friends. He poured himself a cup of black coffee, which he swallowed in one gulp, then cut a green apple into quarters. He was chatting with Zabini and Nott, not noticing that Parkinson had snatched a piece of apple from his plate.

"Hermione?"

Hermione turned her head quickly to face Ron, who was looking at her like someone who had repeated his sentence several times.

"Are you all right?"

"Um, yeah, just a bit tired." she lied as she poured herself a second cup of coffee.

"Tell me about it, I'm exhausted." Ron agreed, simultaneously stuffing a huge mouthful of scrambled eggs into his mouth. "Between Quidditch, classes and homework, it feels like we've been here for two months!"

"Did you finish that essay on the moons of Jupiter in Astronomy?" she asked, consulting her schedule.

Ron grumbled under his breath:

"Could you not talk to me about my homework while I'm eating? I've only just woken up!" he complained.

Hermione clicked her tongue in disapproval. Harry arrived at the Gryffindor table just then, all smiles.

"Hello!" he called loudly.

Hermione raised her eyebrows, unaccustomed to such enthusiasm from Harry so early in the morning.

"What's got you in such a good mood?" asked Ron, staring at him in surprise.

"Er... from playing Quidditch today." Harry replied as he helped himself to some food.

Hermione knew he was lying, and her instincts told her it must have something to do with Cho, the girl Harry had been in love with since last year. She made no comment and took a sip of coffee.

Ron cleared his throat and asked Harry in an uncertain voice:

"Listen... would you like to go with me a bit earlier, so that... er... I can get used to it before the session? So I can get up to speed, you know?"

"Yes, of course." Harry replied.

"Well, I don't think you should." Hermione pointed out. "You're both way behind with your homework and I think that..."

Her sentence was interrupted by the daily arrival of owls in the Great Hall. The boys took the opportunity not to bring up the subject of homework again, which annoyed Hermione to no end.

"Anything interesting?" asked Ron when she had opened today's Prophet.

Hermione scanned the headlines unconvincingly. She saw a picture of a man with black make-up on his eyes, waving sticks in the air and shouting.

"No, just some rubbish about the Weird Sisters' bass player getting married..." she said as her eyes scanned the rest of the page.

She opened the paper and read the first few articles. She didn't dwell on the bass player's marriage or Celestia Valpan's astrological advice. Instead, Hermione read a few articles about current events when her eyes suddenly fell on a familiar name that made her heart sink into her stomach.

"Oh no, Sirius!" she exclaimed impulsively.

"What? What happened?" Harry yelped, grabbing the paper.

He reached for it, but Hermione's grip was so tight that he tore off half the page.

"The Ministry of Magic has received a tip-off from a reliable source that Sirius Black, notorious mass murderer... blah blah blah... is currently hiding in London!" read Hermione in a frantic whisper.

"Lucius Malfoy, I'll bet anything." Harry growled angrily. "He must have recognised Sirius on the platform..."

Hermione's heart took another colossal leap and she stifled a small exclamation of surprise. In a split second, she looked up at Draco, who was still eating quietly with his friends without seeing her. Could he have done that? Could he have warned his father, the Ministry, betrayed her trust?

"What?" cried Ron, distraught. "But you didn't tell me..."

"Shh!" Hermione ordered, not wanting to attract the attention of the other Gryffindors. She continued reading in a low voice : "Ministry warns Wizarding community that Black is very dangerous... killed thirteen people... broke out of Azkaban..." The usual rubbish."

She put the paper down and breathed a small sigh of relief. There was no information about his Animagus form or the information she had shared with Draco the day before. Harry was right, it was probably Lucius Malfoy's initiative. She trusted Draco, she knew deep down that he wouldn't do anything to break their promise.

"Hey!" Harry said suddenly, putting down the piece of newspaper he had torn up on the table. "Look!"

He pointed to an advertisement for Madam Malkin's Dress Shop, which had items on sale. Hermione frowned, not understanding why Harry was so excited about the prospect.

"Er... I don't need any dresses, I have everything I need, thank you." Ron replied, as surprised as she was.

"No, not that!" said Harry. "Look, this little piece here..."

He pointed to a small article at the bottom of a column. Hermione and Ron leaned over to read it:

TRESPASS AT MINISTRY

Sturgis Podmore, 38, of number two, Laburnum Gardens, Clapham, has appeared in front of the Wizengamot charged with trespass and attempted robbery at the Ministry of Magic on 31st August. Podmore was arrested by Ministry of Magic watchwizard Eric Munch, who found him attempting to force his way through a top-security door at one o'clock in the morning. Podmore, who refused to speak in his own defense, was convicted on both charges and sentenced to six months in Azkaban.

"Sturgis Podmore?" Ron repeated slowly. "But he's that bloke who looks like he's got a thatched head, isn't he? He's one of the Ord -"

"Ron! Shh!" Hermione interrupted, looking around to make sure no one was listening to their conversation.

"Six months in Azkaban!" muttered Harry in shock. "Just for trying to open a door!"

"Don't be silly, it wasn't just for that. What could he be doing in the Ministry of Magic at one o'clock in the morning?" Hermione huffed.

"Do you think he was on a mission for the Order?" whispered Ron.

"Wait a minute..." Harry said thoughtfully. "Sturgis was supposed to come with us the other day, remember? He was going to be part of our escort to King's Cross, wasn't he? And Moody wasn't happy that he didn't turn up. So he wasn't on a mission for them."

"Maybe they didn't know he'd been caught yet?" offered Hermione.

"Or maybe it's a frame-up!" exclaimed Ron, overexcited. "The Ministry suspects him of being an ally of Dumbledore, so they lure him there, but in fact, he wasn't trying to force his way through that door at all! It was just a trap so they could arrest him!"

Hermione lowered her eyes as she considered this theory, which didn't seem too far-fetched.

"I wouldn't be surprised if it were true." she admitted.

She rested her eyes on her schedule and picked up her quill again:

"Anyway, I think we should do Sprout's paper on self-fertilising shrubs first." she said as the lines began to run through her planner. "With any luck, we might have time to start McGonagall's on the Vanishing Spell before lunch..."

Harry bit his lip, and Ron leaned forward so far that his hair fell onto his plate.

"Erm... actually, Hermione, I think we're going to go and practise Quidditch..." Harry confessed shyly.

Hermione looked up at them sharply.

"All morning?" she said in her high-pitched voice. "But you've already got practice at two!"

"I've got to catch up..." muttered Ron without much conviction.

She looked at the two boys one after the other, both embarrassed.

"Very well then." Hermione announced as she slammed her planner shut, startling Harry and Ron. "If you want to put Quidditch - a game, I'd like to remind you - before homework, that's your business. It's none of my concern if you fail your O.W.L.s because you're too far behind! And don't think for a moment that I'm going to help you!"

"Sorry, Mione..." said Ron as he carefully left the Gryffindors' bench.

"We won't be late, I promise..." Harry assured as he followed Ron's movement.

"Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, get back here this instant!"

But they had already fled. Hermione grumbled inwardly and put her hand on the table, carefully avoiding the amused looks of Fred and George to her left.

A few minutes later, Ginny sat down opposite Hermione, in the seat Harry had occupied just before his miserable escape.

"Hello- oh." she said simply when she saw Hermione's face.

"What?" Hermione asked, a little too aggressively.

"Nothing, you just look like you want to cast a hex on the first person who dares to speak to you." Ginny commented with a chuckle. "What's got you in such a state?"

"Your brother, of course." Hermione grumbled as she ate a piece of omelette. "And Harry. They'd rather practice Quidditch than study."

"Well, I can't blame them." Ginny replied with a shrug.

"But you, you don't have your O.W.L. at the end of the year." Hermione pointed out. "They're being completely irresponsible."

Behind Ginny's shoulder she saw Draco burst out laughing at something Zabini had just said. She had the curious urge to find out what he had just said. But she quickly focused on Ginny in front of her who was answering:

"- will come to you for help and realise how much they should have worked before."

Hermione nodded, although she hadn't caught the beginning of the sentence. Ginny poured herself a large glass of pumpkin juice, then opened Hermione's torn Prophet with one hand to read the day's headlines.

Hermione was about to ask her if Luna was going to join them when Ginny spat out her mouthful of juice and put a hand over her mouth with a heavy exclamation. Hermione looked up to see her best friend's eyes wide with horror as she read the front page of the newspaper.

"Yes, we saw about Sirius." Hermione began. "But don't worry, he won't be leaving the house now that..."

"Donaghan Tremlett!" exclaimed Ginny, stunned. "Oh, Merlin, no, no, no!"

"...that he's been seen... What?"

"Donaghan Tremlett!" repeated Ginny, her eyes wide.

"What are you talking about?" asked Hermione, confused.

"The Weird Sisters' bass player! He's getting married! Oh, Merlin, no!"

Hermione closed her mouth, suddenly at a loss for words. She had certainly not expected such a dramatic reaction from Ginny. She read the article in a matter of seconds, a look of pure panic on her face, then tore her gaze from the accompanying photo to rest on Hermione. One might have thought she had just discovered that a member of her family was missing.

"No, no, no! I'm so gutted!" she shouted angrily.

"Because... Of... The... Wedding... Of the bassist?" asked Hermione tentatively, who couldn't understand anything about this turn of events.

"Yes!" replied Ginny in utter shock. "Why are they getting married so soon?!"

"Um... I don't know... Why does it upset you so much, Gin'?" the brunette asked, trying as hard as she could to keep her voice down.

"Because I've been in love with him since I was 10!" cried Ginny, jabbing her fork angrily at her plate. "We were supposed to get married! I've got posters of him in my room and I listen to his album seven times a day..."

Hermione swallowed a laugh, hiding it with a cough.

"Oh... But, Ginny, you know he must be... ten years older than you?" Hermione said shyly.

The redhead grunted in reply. It was obviously the wrong thing to say.

"And um... You're not with Michael anymore?" asked Hermione in a whisper so that Fred and George wouldn't overhear.

"Yes, yes, of course I am..." she replied with an evasive wave of her hand. "He's very nice, but he's not... I mean, Donaghan! Merlin, he's the most beautiful boy I've ever seen in my life, we'd be perfect together..."

Hermione risked a glance at the picture of the bass player, who she found particularly repulsive. She pursed her lips and chose not to answer.

"What's wrong, Gin'?" asked George in a worried tone when he saw Ginny clutching her head in her hands.

She preferred to throw the Prophet at him rather than answer. George frowned and read the article, then his eyes widened considerably:

"Nooo, he didn't..." he muttered in disgust.

He handed the paper to Fred, who had the same reaction. Both twins stood up to hug their sister:

"Oh Ginny, we're so sorry..."

Hermione was speechless. She knew Ginny was a big fan of the band, but she never thought it would affect her so much.

"If you want, we can send him a letter full of Bubotuber pus..." Fred offered.

Ginny nodded against George's shoulder as he stroked her hair to comfort her.

"I got some last year, and I can confirm it hurts a lot." Hermione said, making Ginny smile a little.

A Gryffindor girl, probably in the same year as Ginny, walked past just then, her face filled with sympathy. She was holding a copy of the Prophet.

"Hey, Ginny..." she said quietly. "I just read the news... I'm really sorry..."

"Thank you, Dorothy..." Ginny replied, choking back a sob.

The girl put a comforting hand on her shoulder and returned to her seat.

"Er... Gin', do you fancy getting some fresh air?" offered Hermione. "To take your mind off things..."

"Yes, good idea." the redhead replied, with a voice full of sadness.

George let go of her and helped her up from the bench.

"We'll work on that Bubotuber pus idea..." he promised in a low voice. "He'll be sorry, don't worry..."

They left the Castle at the same time: Fred and George went (suspiciously) to the Herbology greenhouses, while Hermione and Ginny sat on a bench in the Transfiguration courtyard, which was deserted. It was quite chilly, so Hermione cast a Warmth Charm around them.

"If it's any consolation..." Hermione said. "I think his fiancée is quite hideous."

"Do you?" asked Ginny hopefully.

"Oh yes." Hermione said, although she hadn't even looked at the picture. "You two would make a much better couple."

"Thank you, Mione. I think so too." Ginny stifled a small laugh. "It's a bit silly to get all worked up about it." she admitted. "I guess it's like that when you've had an obsession with a celebrity for years... Do you have someone like that? A celebrity you've been in love with forever?"

Hermione considered the question but shook her head.

"No, not really... When I was little, the only people I really admired were the authors of Muggle books, and they're all pretty much dead now, so..."

Ginny burst out laughing and Hermione couldn't help but imitate her.

"Really?" Ginny asked curiously. "You've never had that? A secret crush on a boy?"

Hermione's brain fused too quickly. Draco. She half choked on her laugh.

"No." she replied a little too quickly.

"Liar, you're all red." Ginny said, pointing at her cheeks with a laugh. "Come on, you can tell me, I swear I won't tell!"

Hermione bit her lip. In fact, she desperately wanted to tell Ginny. She was the only person who knew about the study sessions in the Library, and she knew she'd never judge her or ask too many prying questions. She was dying to confess her troubles and get answers to the inner questions that had been running through her head for weeks.

"Well... now that you mention it, there is someone." Hermione murmured, lowering her eyes. "But it's not a celebrity."

"Really?" Ginny gasped. "Who is it?"

Hermione took a deep breath and looked at the fountain in the Transfiguration courtyard to formulate her sentence.

"It's... someone from Hogwarts." she confessed. "And I think... Ginny, I think I like him. I like him a lot."

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I could have named this chapter "Draco Malfoy and Ginny Weasley, the dramaqueens of Hogwarts"

(For Ginny' scene, I was inspired by myself when I saw that Taylor Lautner was getting married, I cried for two days)