tw : emetophobia (Pansy during Transfiguration class)
I just realized that the name Pansy came from the flower that we called "pensée" in french, which can be translated "thoughts", so I think it's a very accurate name for my chapter :))
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Hermione
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Hermione couldn't remember exactly when she had fallen in love with Ron.
It had happened so gradually that she hadn't noticed it at first. With involuntary finger touches, with compliments hidden by teasing. She loved his smile, he loved her voice. She laughed at his jokes and he listened when she told him about the novel she was reading. They got used to each other's presence. And although they often argued, it never lasted long. It was like a game.
Ginny knew it, Harry knew it, all the Gryffindors knew it. And Hermione had always known, deep down. Sometimes she caught him looking at her. He wasn't looking at her like he had in first year. He'd seen her differently since the Ball. He touched her more often. He picked up her thighs and put them on his when they sat on the sofa, and he cuddled her a little longer than necessary. When she entered a room, he automatically turned his head in her direction. She loved listening to him talk, hearing the passion in his sentences. If she heard something funny, she would immediately look at him and share a smile. He was jealous of Viktor and she would be lying if she said it wasn't flattering.
It had happened gradually, with small attentions, touches, words. Falling in love with Ron had been familiar, comfortable. The friendship had slowly turned into a stronger, deeper feeling.
Falling in love with Draco had been different.
Falling in love with Draco had been brutal, violent.
Hermione had read hundreds of books in her life where the heroine told how love had "fallen" on her. As if, from one day to the next, she had realised that she couldn't live without him, that she was madly in love with the hero. Hermione had always thought that was silly. How could you fall in love with someone so quickly? You had to get to know yourself first, to be sure that the person was right for you.
But Draco wasn't right for her. They fought all the time, much more than with Ron. She disagreed with him on many things and sometimes she hated his attitude. He was arrogant and mean, and Hermione hated that. What she loved was Ron's gentleness, his humour, the friendship that bound them together.
But why did she feel so strongly for Draco?
He was the only person who managed to confuse her. She arrived at the Library without ever knowing what they were going to talk about. His moods were always changing and Hermione loved discovering them one by one. She listened to him talk, because it was rare and every sentence was calculated. They could argue for hours without him tiring of her stubbornness. They had different points of view, but he was always interested in hers. He listened to her. He knew she had to study and he respected that. He had never criticised her for it, unlike Ron, who told her once a day that she was a Miss-Know-It-All. He paid attention to her in a way that no one else had before. He watched her so closely that he knew her by heart. He gave her presents, but more than that, he gave her little things that she appreciated more than she'd like to admit.
He drove her mad, but the more time passed, the more Hermione wondered if that wasn't why she went to the Library every night.
Falling in love with Draco had been sudden. It was like throwing herself off a cliff and waiting for the fall. There was nothing comfortable or familiar about him, he was dangerous, forbidden, and that was exactly what made Hermione's veins tingle whenever she was near him. It was like an addiction: she knew all the risks of getting close to him, she felt guilty until she was sick of it, but she couldn't stop. She kept coming back.
The next morning, Draco's confession sounded even louder than usual. She paid no attention to the conversations around her at the breakfast table. Luna's floating voice telling Ginny how she'd caught creatures with unpronounceable names the night before couldn't pierce her thoughts.
"Granger, I'm in love with you."
When she'd first heard those words, her heart had stopped in shock. She hadn't thought for a second that he could feel that way about her, let alone tell her so openly. But now that she knew, she wondered why she hadn't realised it before.
He'd been jealous of Viktor since the Ball, but not like Ron: his jealousy was full of anger, hatred, appropriation.
He'd travelled hundreds of miles to find her in London, in the middle of a Muggle world he knew nothing about, just to make sure she was all right.
He had turned his back on his family's values to spend time with her, changing his strong opinions about her and his prejudices.
He was in love with her. That was obvious. And it was both a pleasant thought and a terrible threat. If he loved her and she loved him, it would threaten everything she believed in. They were separated by an invisible line drawn by the war, each on the opposite side. Light and darkness. Family or heart.
"Mione, would you please pass me the pumpkin juice?"
Hermione handed the jug to Ginny with a gesture so sullen that she received a wary look.
"Mione? Are you all right?"
"Yes, yes..." she replied evasively.
She focused on her surroundings again and saw that several people were staring at her with the same confused look as Ginny. Hermione cleared her throat and shook her head, trying to clear her own thoughts.
"I'm fine, just a bit tired. I studied late last night."
Everyone nodded. It was an easy lie. They seemed to be going out more easily now than before. Since sharing a table with Draco Malfoy in the Library, she'd learned to lie without blushing.
Hermione glanced towards the Slytherin table and felt the usual knot in her stomach when she saw him. He was barely awake, his hair tousled and his eyelids heavier than usual. He looked in a very bad mood and was muttering something through his teeth, obviously to Theodore, who was responding fervently, but the noise of the Great Hall prevented her from hearing their dialogue. He had obviously woken him a little too early for a Saturday. Draco made a vulgar gesture and Zabini calmly interrupted their argument. Surprisingly, it worked: neither of them replied, and Theodore went back to reading his book while Draco took a sip of his black coffee.
Then his eyes rested on hers for a moment and they exchanged a look, and Hermione could have sworn she could count the shades of blue and grey in his pupils despite the distance between them. It was he who turned his head first, and Hermione did the same. Everyone had gone back to talking to their friends, except Fred, who was still looking at her with concern. She smiled at him and continued to eat her porridge, her head spinning.
That was probably the difference between the two loves she had. With Draco, her head was always spinning.
And oddly enough, she loved it.
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The only time in her day that Hermione managed to think about anything other than her own realisation of the previous day was during her study session with Neville. They were working in the Library, as they did every Saturday, and Hermione tried not to look in the direction of the round table too often when Neville put down his quill:
"I'm done." he announced proudly.
Hermione raised her eyebrows in amazement: it was the first time he'd finished an assignment before her. She didn't point it out, though, and offered to proofread it. Apart from a few dates and a few wrong ogre names, Neville had done quite well on his History of Magic essay. She congratulated him and his chubby face flushed with joy.
"What do you want to do now?" asked Hermione as she put her History of Magic stuff away, already planning to finish her essay with Draco that very night.
"Well, I just have to read chapter twelve of "Defensive Magical Theory" in Defence Against the Dark Arts..."
Hermione rolled her eyes in disagreement.
"... And my Divination dream diary, but I don't suppose you could really help me with that." Neville finished.
"No, unfortunately my third eye didn't open this morning." Hermione said, making Neville laugh.
"Then I'm done." he concluded, closing his books.
She watched him put his books away and suddenly had an idea.
"Why don't we start with the herbarium?" Hermione suggested enthusiastically.
Neville's eyes lit up instantly.
"Have you got it?" he asked.
"Yes, it's in my bag..."
She took it out and placed it in the middle of the table. It was a beautiful moss-green notebook, with small jades inlaid into the cover. Hermione had never paid too much attention to it since she had received it in first year, and she had never found the time to complete it. But seeing Neville so happy made her change her mind and she smiled fondly.
He opened the notebook carefully.
"I've never had a herbarium." Neville said with a hint of bitterness in his voice. "My grandmother always buys me books for my birthday. I think wizarding herbariums recognise the leaf and give its properties when you put it on a page, but I think I still prefer this... Is it Muggle paper?"
"Yes, and you see the protective film over it?" asked Hermione, showing him the transparent sheet on the first page. "That's for putting the plant in. We could find names of wizarding flowers and write them down and then look for them in the valley, what do you think?"
Hermione couldn't remember ever seeing Neville so invested in a project. He quickly got up to fetch three volumes of Herbology and find some plant names to write down. Soon they were reading pages and pages of textbooks, taking turns to suggest names for flowers and plants they saw:
"Aconite flowers?" suggested Hermione, flipping through "Everyday Plants."
"Yes, I think there are some on the edge of the Forest, but you have to be careful to only take the flowers, the leaves are poisonous." said Neville, his face hidden by the huge book "The Primer on Plants, Flowers, Leaves and Vegetation of the Magical World."
He turned a few pages, his features crinkled with concentration.
"A honking daffodil?" he suggested after a few minutes of reading.
"Oh yes, good idea, and I think Sprout has some in the first greenhouse!" Hermione said cheerfully. "We'll have to cut them down, though, so my herbarium doesn't start honking."
Neville nodded with a chuckle. Hermione looked up the page on honking daffodils in her textbook to see if they continued to make noise when cut, but a picture next to the definition suddenly caught her eye. It was a beautiful bouquet of flowers with white petals and yellow hearts in the middle. Hermione looked at the picture and thought that they were the most beautiful flowers she had ever seen. She read the caption that accompanied the picture:
"The narcissus, derived from the daffodil, is the flower that symbolises the end of winter and the beginning of spring. It has six petals, ranging from white to yellow, and a central crown."
Reading this, Hermione had a clear memory. "But your mum, Narcissa, right? She's the only one in your family who wasn't born after a constellation, or a star, or a comet. She's the only one in the Black family named after a flower, the Narcissus." She bit her lip as she thought back to that moment, which seemed like decades ago. The first time she'd talked to Draco without arguing. The first time they'd had a conversation, at the round table, a few inches away from her, hidden by the shelves.
Everything reminded her of him. Even when she didn't want to, something reminded her of Draco. She returned to the picture of the flowers: without knowing why, she found them particularly beautiful and a good representation of Draco's mother's presence.
"And... what do you think of the narcissus?" asked Hermione hesitantly.
Neville didn't look up from his textbook and replied absently:
"Not bad. They might look nice in the herbarium, but they don't grow until after winter. Maybe we could plant a few and wait for them to flower around March?"
"Yes, good idea." Hermione said.
Then she turned the page and tried to think of something other than Draco Malfoy as she concentrated on the flowers in the book.
After two hours, Neville and Hermione had finally finished preparing the herbarium. They had divided it into three sections: medicinal flowers, decorative flowers, and useful plants. Hermione had written flower names on each page, and once that was done, they both headed to the Herbology greenhouses to start collecting.
It wasn't very cold, so Hermione simply went out in a jumper and jeans. Apart from the usual September breeze that blew her hair up at times, the rays of the timid autumn sun managed to warm her up enough. Neville and Hermione walked along the path towards the greenhouses, talking excitedly about their herbarium.
Along greenhouse number three, Neville had spotted some nasturtiums, and they started to look for them, trying not to step on any plantations. Eventually Neville found them and cut one, so tenderly that Hermione was touched by his meticulous movements. He placed the flower in the palm of his hand and showed it to Hermione. It was bright red, with tiny black spots towards the centre.
"I'm surprised they've made it this far." said Neville, looking at the flower. "Nasturtiums usually fade quickly when they don't get sunlight for more than half the day. I suppose Professor Sprout planted them here so they could get the most sun, but they also need their dose of moisture, which is why they often grow in damp valleys..."
Hermione listened attentively to his presentation. She found Herbology a very interesting subject, but it was even more so when it was Neville talking about it. She could listen to him talk about flowers for hours.
He then carefully cut out the stem and slipped the flower between the two corresponding pages in the herbarium. Next, they went in search of achillea, a perennial white flower that Neville had already spotted in the vicinity of greenhouse number two. They were both crouched down in the grass looking for the flowers in question when Professor Sprout stormed out of her greenhouse, a huge stem in her right hand:
"Hey! Hey, I see you, stop it... Oh." She paused as she saw Hermione and Neville a short distance away. "Sorry, I thought it was those bloody Weasley twins, they're always hanging around looking for achillea leaves to make sneezing powder out of..."
The Herbology professor let the stem fall to her side. She was dressed in a grey apron, her curly hair tucked under a sort of hat. She looked at the two students in front of her:
"What are you doing here?"
"We just came to get some achillea too, Professor." Neville replied without hesitation.
Hermione said nothing, a little frightened by Professor Sprout's reaction. She didn't know if it was allowed to harvest plants like that. Neville, on the other hand, didn't seem worried. Sprout must have liked him very much, because she smiled when she heard his answer:
"Oh yeah? Is it to make a Befuddlement Draught?"
"No, not at all, it's for personal use."
Sprout frowned, still smiling.
"What are you babbling about, Longbottom?"
He got to his feet and brought her the herbarium, holding it in his hands as if it were an extremely fragile gem.
"Hermione got this herbarium for her birthday and we wrote down all sorts of plant names to complete it with the flowers of the valley..." he explained as he handed it to her.
Sprout dropped the stem to the ground and opened the herbarium, leafing through it with the same delicacy as Neville. The further she went, the higher her eyebrows rose. When they were completely hidden by the fringe of her hat, she let out a whistle of admiration:
"Crikey, this is one of the most beautiful herbariums I've ever seen in my life!" croaked Sprout. "Is it Muggle, Miss Granger?"
"Yes, my family gave it to me." she replied shyly.
"And you've already harvested the nasturtium, I see?" continued Sprout, consulting the pages of the herbarium. "Very good, very good... Excellent initiative, you two! Ten points for Gryffindor. Each!"
Neville subtly turned to Hermione, beaming.
"I see you've noted the alihotsy, a very good plant with interesting leaves..." Sprout read thoughtfully. "It's going to be hard to find though, but I've got a few here... Same with the umbrella flowers, they don't grow in the valley, but I've got some on the ceiling of greenhouse number two... Come on, we'll do it together."
Hermione and Neville entered the greenhouse, delighted, especially Neville, whose face lit up at the idea of a private Herbology lesson. They filled part of the herbarium thanks to Professor Sprout, who not only gave them the flowers they couldn't find in the wild, but also explained each plant to them.
They left the greenhouse with a half-full herbarium, a head full of new knowledge and twenty points for Gryffindor. They decided to continue their harvest the following Saturday and returned to the Common Room, happily discussing the day's Herbology discoveries.
"If only the other classes were this interesting." Neville lamented as they climbed the stairs to the seventh floor.
"I know you don't like Potions, but don't you think the other subjects are interesting?" asked Hermione.
Neville shrugged weakly.
"Let's just say that Transfiguration and Charms are so complicated that it's hard to find anything interesting in them," he said, listing the subjects one by one. "History of Magic and Astronomy are frankly rubbish, I understand absolutely nothing about them and I spend my time fighting sleep. Potions, I won't even tell you about that... Divination isn't really a subject... Defence Against the Dark Arts wasn't bad when Lupin was a teacher, he even managed to make it exciting. He taught me the most spells since I've been at Hogwarts. Now that this Umbridge has replaced him, I might as well tell you that the subject has quickly lost its charm..."
Hermione nodded in agreement.
"If anything, there's Care of Magical Creatures, which I really like, but since Hagrid's gone, it's not the same..." Neville said in a sad voice.
Hearing his name, Hermione felt a pang in her heart and the typical anxiety that seemed to imprison her. They still hadn't heard from their gamekeeper, and his absence was adding to Hermione's worries every day.
Neville said the password (Mimbulus mimbletonia, the first one he could remember) and the painting swung round to let them into the warm room. Ron and Harry were practising Quidditch, and Ginny had gone to watch them from the stands. The room was almost empty.
"Neville..." Hermione said slowly. "I've been thinking of a way to make Defence Against the Dark Arts classes a little more interesting."
The boy turned to her in surprise.
"If you're talking about your way of responding to Umbridge with Harry, I don't think it's a good idea, the detentions..."
"No, I wasn't talking about that." Hermione cut in. "It would be more of a way of obeying Umbridge while still practising defence."
"How?"
"Well, I thought Harry could teach us in secret." Hermione explained. "After all, he's the one who knows the most about Defence Against the Dark Arts around here, and I think it might be better to learn something other than theory, on our side..."
She had expected Neville to burst out laughing, but he remained perfectly stoic, considering Hermione's suggestion seriously.
"Well, I think it's an excellent idea." he said after a few seconds of thought. "I'm sure Harry would make an excellent teacher, maybe even as good as Lupin. Tell Harry I'm interested, it wouldn't do me any harm to study a bit... See you at dinner!"
And he left for the boys' corridor. Hermione smiled: she was sure she could count on him.
She realised she didn't have much to do except knit, so she did it in front of the fireplace. Of course, while she was wiggling her needles to sew a new pair of socks for the elves (she still couldn't do it with her wand), her mind drifted to the person who had been occupying her thoughts lately.
She spent the rest of the afternoon thinking. It seemed to help her concentrate, because she made two pairs of socks for the elves and a pair of slightly misshapen gloves for Danny. She was just starting on a knitted cup warmer, her mind still on a particular Slytherin, when Ron and Harry came through the Fat Lady's board, followed by Ginny.
"How was practice?" asked Hermione as she continued knitting.
"It didn't rain, thank goodness." Harry said, wiping his glasses with his burgundy Quidditch robes. "And I caught the Golden Snitch in twenty-three minutes."
"Well done Harry!" Hermione chimed in.
"And I managed to avoid humiliation by dropping the Quaffle." Ron said with a sigh.
He fell gracelessly onto the sofa, causing Hermione to bounce off the cushion.
"That was perfect, Ron." Ginny corrected as she sat down in the armchair next to them. "You just need to straighten up a little more on your broom and don't forget the top left hoop, you tend to go too far to the right and leave an opening for your opponent."
Ron raised an eyebrow as he listened to his sister's sports analysis. Harry put his glasses back on his nose and sat down in the chair right next to Ginny, but Ginny didn't look as shocked as she always did when he was less than a foot away from her. She pretended he wasn't there and looked at the socks Hermione had knitted in surprise:
"You did all this in an afternoon?"
"Yes, I didn't have much to do..." Hermione began.
"Lucky you." grumbled Ron. "We're so bogged down with homework we could drown in books. And we still have to do that stupid dream diary..."
Harry replied with a vague wave of his hand, obviously already exhausted at the thought of having to write that diary.
"Are you going to continue knitting after dinner, Hermione?" asked Ron, probably hoping that she would offer to correct their work.
"No, I'm going to the Library to finish my History of Magic essay." she said rather coldly.
"Oh Merlin, I'd forgotten..." Ron groaned plaintively.
"It wasn't for lack of warning, little brother." interjected George, who had also just returned from training.
"We told you fifth year would mean overwork, overdue homework, late nights studying..." Fred continued.
Ron growled and Harry shrank in his chair at such predictions.
"Our 5 Galleons offer on Skiving Snackboxes still stands, you know..." said Fred in a mysterious tone.
Ron straightened up against the back of the sofa:
"Really?"
"Ron, you're a prefect." Hermione scolded. "And you, you've got a lot of nerve coming here and selling pranks in front of me!"
"A mere suggestion, nothing more..." said George, full of false innocence.
"Shall we go and eat?" suggested Harry, rising to his feet.
Everyone followed him. The training must have been exhausting, for none of the players spoke on the way to dinner. They sat down in their usual places and ate with appetite. Ron's head swayed with fatigue as he devoured as many potatoes as he could.
Throughout the meal, Hermione tried not to turn her head, but discovered that she couldn't. She kept discreetly looking at Draco, and she was sure he did the same when she wasn't watching. It was as if she could feel his gaze burning down her neck from where he sat.
By the time the meal was over, Harry was half dozing on the bench. George gave him a friendly pat on the back, inadvertently knocking him back onto the table:
"Come on, mate, off to bed!"
They all got up at the same time and headed for the door, just as Draco and Parkinson came out. Fred looked over his shoulder at Hermione:
"Are you coming too, Mione?"
"No, I'm going to the Library to finish my essay..." she said quietly, walking in a different direction to them.
"Merlin, Mione, I'll never stop praising your commitment to this school." George said when he heard her reply. "It's honourable to spend so much time in front of a notebook."
She smiled shyly and Fred said as she walked away:
"You won't forget us when you're Minister for Magic, will you?"
Hermione laughed. Ron stopped at her level as Harry wished her good night with a wave of his hand, the other covering his mouth to stifle a yawn.
"Are you sure you don't want to study in the Common Room?" asked Ron.
"No, I'd rather go to the Library, but I can help you with your homework tomorrow if you want." she offered gently.
Ron wrinkled his nose, causing the freckles scattered across his nose to crinkle:
"I didn't say that to get you to do my homework, Mione. I only said that to spend the evening with you. But if you want to go to the Library, I won't keep you."
He smiled at her and Hermione could only imitate him, touched by his words.
"Thank you, Ron. See you tomorrow!"
And Ron ran off to join his two brothers. Hermione had a hunch he was going to ask about the Skiving Snackboxes.
She turned on her heels and headed for the Library. Parkinson and Draco were still standing at the entrance to the Great Hall. Parkinson had her arms crossed over her chest and was staring at Draco with a spark of anger in her dark eyes.
"I told you, Pans, I can't tonight..." Draco muttered, so quietly that Hermione almost didn't hear him.
"That's the third time this year you've said that, Draco." Parkinson replied dryly. "The third night you've cancelled! What's your excuse this time?"
"I have to do my History of Magic essay..."
Pansy laughed nastily.
"History of Magic, seriously? You've got to be fucking kidding me, Draco."
"I'm not fucking with you!" he retorted impatiently.
"You don't give a shit about the History of Magic, you never have!" snapped Parkinson in a shrill voice. "Since when have you been so passionate about this bullshit..."
She stopped suddenly as she saw Hermione walking around them, giving her a black look of hatred. Hermione shuddered and quickened her pace, but she could still hear Draco's reply through his rising tone:
"I don't give a fuck, but I have to go! There's the O.W.L. at the end of the year! And you should do the same, Pans', because you're in deep shit if you keep doing nothing!"
"Stop talking like Theo!" she squealed.
Hermione walked away, the echo of her voice mingled with the sound of moving stairs. After a short detour, she reached the Library and took a seat at the round table.
She had been waiting for this moment since the morning. Not to study this time, but to spend some time with Draco.
Draco arrived a few minutes after her, a little agitated. As soon as he saw her, he warned her in a loud voice:
"I don't want to talk about Pansy, so no questions."
Hermione didn't dare, even though her tongue was burning with greed. Draco sat down and ran a hand through his hair, then pulled out his History of Magic textbook and set it down on the table. While he fumbled in his bag for his quill, Hermione discreetly cast a Silent Bubble spell around them.
"Did you have a party planned for tonight?" she asked lightly.
Draco looked up from his bag and glared at her.
"Granger, I specifically told you I didn't want to talk about it..."
"I wasn't talking about Parkinson, I was talking about the party!" defended Hermione vehemently.
"If you're talking about parties, you're talking about Pansy!" Draco retorted angrily. "She's the one who organises them!"
"How was I supposed to know that?!" asked Hermione, mimicking his tone.
He rolled his eyes and Hermione wondered if it was really this boy she was in love with. He could be so annoying when he wanted to be...
Draco put down his quill and massaged his temples as he closed his eyes, as if to reduce his anger. When he spoke again, his voice was much calmer:
"There are parties every night." he explained. "Pansy gets upset if I don't come to one when there are parties all the time, but she doesn't care."
Hermione was careful not to comment on the parties, although she couldn't help a sharp intake of breath. Every night? Even during the week? What could be going on?
"Do you think she suspects where you go in the evenings?" she tried.
Draco pinched his nose and sighed:
"I don't know." he admitted frankly.
Hermione pursed her lips without saying anything. She knew Parkinson knew about Draco's escapades in the Library, she had told him when they had to share a table in Potions. Parkinson had told her she wouldn't tell anyone, but Hermione found it hard to trust the girl. She was treacherous, and Hermione was sure that she wouldn't hesitate to tell Hermione's innermost secret just to hurt her. But she must have really been friends with Draco, because she hadn't said anything until now. Not even to him, apparently.
Hermione mentally reversed the roles. If she found out that Harry was secretly seeing a Slytherin girl like Daphne Greengrass, would she tell everyone?
No, she wouldn't.
"Do you have any more curious questions for me, or are we done for tonight?" asked Draco in his drawl.
Hermione did. She had several, in fact, that she'd been listing in her head all afternoon. But she shook her head and got to work, fearing his reaction if she dared to talk to him about such a sensitive subject.
They worked in silence. Hermione made some cinnamon tea and handed it to him several times so he could drink it too, and although he didn't show it, Hermione was sure it cheered him up. He worked on his Transfiguration and his History of Magic essay, then practised his Vanishing spells again under Hermione's expert guidance.
By the end, half an hour before the Library closed, he seemed to have regained his good humour.
"Theo's going to be furious when he sees I've finished my essay before him." he murmured with a small grin. "He hasn't had time to do it and he's got three of them tomorrow, he's completely distraught at the thought of not handing them in on time."
"Three?" asked Hermione, not understanding.
"His, Crabbe's and Goyle's."
"What?! He still does their homework?" she exclaimed in amazement.
"Yeah, always has." Draco said with a shrug. "I think he makes quite a bit of money doing it, and he's never been noticed by a teacher, so..."
"But it's a huge amount of work!" Hermione objected. "He must be completely exhausted."
Draco thought for a second before shrugging again:
"No, not really. He just spends his time working... A bit like you."
Hermione felt another surge of admiration for the boy. She had never met anyone as studious as she was, but she had to admit that Theodore was a very good opponent.
"Does he go to Slytherin parties too?" she asked.
"You're too curious, Granger." Draco said, one of his favourite mantras. He answered her question anyway. "No, he doesn't like parties."
"Then why doesn't Parkinson make him go like she did with you?"
The question made Draco sigh, but he still took the time to formulate an answer in his head before lazily answering:
"Because I used to love it, once upon a time."
Hermione was confused. She couldn't imagine Draco enjoying a party, it wasn't like him.
"Are you done with your questions, Granger?" he asked a second time, pretending to be annoyed, although Hermione knew he secretly liked it when she asked him questions.
She bit her lip hesitantly and Draco unconsciously shifted his gaze to her mouth.
"Actually, yes, I do have another question." she said in what she hoped was a firm tone.
"What's that?"
"Do you promise not to get upset?" she asked worriedly.
Hearing this, Draco straightened in his chair and his eyes darkened.
"That depends." he said with some concern in his voice. "What do you want to know?"
Hermione let a silence pass. She had wanted to ask him this question for ages, but had never found the courage, and after realising she was in love with him the night before, the subject had never been so pressing. Yet she knew that the moment she mentioned it to him, he would shut down and refuse to answer.
So she took advantage of her vision of him before he fled: his ash blonde hair, his intense grey eyes fixed on her with palpable expectation, his muscles flexing under his white shirt...
"Granger?"
She focused again, feeling the pounding of her heart against the skin beneath her ears.
"It's about your confession in Hamptead Park." she replied quietly.
As she had predicted, Draco's face fell completely. His eyes narrowed and he looked at her through his lashes.
"I told you I didn't want to talk about it." he said sharply.
"And I told you I needed answers." she denied immediately.
"It wasn't meant to change your perception of me." he hissed, almost accusingly.
"Then why did you tell me?"
Draco closed his mouth in disbelief. He loosened his jaw and looked at her in surprise. Then he capitulated:
"All right, you can ask me one question..."
"I have several, actually..." she said, but he held up his hand to cut her off:
"No, just one. And I'm entitled to something in return."
Hermione rolled her eyes at the blackmail:
"We said we had unlimited questions!" she pointed out in her squeaky voice that had a knack of coming out at inappropriate moments.
"And I told you you had no right to talk about that!" he retorted. "It was supposed to be a spontaneous confession, never to be spoken of again!"
"Then you shouldn't have told the "most stubborn girl in England"!"
She expected him to get angry, but to her surprise he smiled.
"You really are the most stubborn girl in England." he said amusedly. "Anyway, that's my deal. A question equals something in return."
"Always with the deals..." Hermione grumbled.
"Welcome to the Slytherins, Granger." Draco replied full of sarcasm.
She watched his smirk and realised that it had become one of her favourite expressions, despite how much it had annoyed her in the past.
"The Library is about to close." he announced, pointing to the darkened windows. "Would you like to go to the bench?"
Hermione weighed up the pros and cons in exactly one second: against, she was breaking curfew and several school rules, even though she was a Prefect and had scolded Ron for doing exactly the same thing a few hours earlier.
For, she could continue to spend time with Draco.
"Alright." she said as she picked up her things.
They walked out of the empty Library side by side and didn't speak all the way to the bench outside. The weather had cooled down considerably since their impromptu Herbology session with Neville, a fresh breeze now cooling her cheeks.
They sat down on the bench and Hermione looked up at the dark sky. As she did every time she saw the full moon, Hermione thought of Lupin.
"So?" she finally asked. "What do you want in return?"
Draco's mischievous smile returned, causing a small dimple to form on his cheek. She waited for his proposition, watching him. The dark sky made his skin even whiter than usual, and Hermione appreciated the contrast: he looked like an angel.
"In exchange for one question about my Hampstead Park confession..." he said evasively. "I want to see... the picture of you as a fairy."
He watched her reaction with a snort of laughter. Hermione had not expected such a request, she had completely forgotten that he had asked to see it in their letters.
"Really? Is that all?"
"Yes, that's all." Draco claimed smugly.
"No Slytherin deals? No hidden promises? No secrets?" she insisted, wary of that slightly too sincere smile.
"No, just the picture of you as a fairy. You remembered to take it, I hope?" he asked.
"Of course." she said. "I even have it with me, in fact I'm using it as a bookmark for the novel I'm reading..."
She took the book from her bag and placed it on her thighs, analysing Draco. He was calm, much calmer than he had been at the beginning of the Library. He looked at her softly, the moonlight illuminating his blond hair with its milky clarity.
"So? What's your question, Granger?"
Hermione took a deep breath and looked away. She didn't want to be confronted with his eyes as she asked him, as if sharing a look was more intimate than the question she was so afraid to ask.
"Well, then..." (She pushed strands of hair back behind her ears and Draco watched with a smile.) "You said you were in love with me."
Draco raised an eyebrow.
"That's your question?" he asked sarcastically. "I did, Granger, but I didn't think it would take you two months to realise it..."
"No, it was a fact, not a question!" exclaimed Hermione. "You told me, and although it took me a while to realise it and understand what it meant..."
"It's still not a question, Granger..." objected Draco.
"...We went from enemies to friends to... you falling in love with me so quickly..." she said, lowering her voice as her sentence progressed. "I wanted to know... Since when?"
"Since when?" he repeated, not understanding.
"Since when... Do you feel this way. For me." she finished, red as a peony.
Draco, on the other hand, didn't seem to mind. In fact, he was as calm as ever, almost amused by the situation. Their attitudes were completely opposite and Hermione realised that it should have been the other way round.
"Since when have I felt it, or since when have I realised it?" he asked.
"Both."
Draco rested his head on the back of the bench, watching the full moon in thought. He seemed to be rehashing memories, and Hermione would have given a lot to see them, too.
"Since forever, I guess." he finally said.
"What? Forever?" Hermione gasped.
"Yes. Ever since I first saw you, you've always been... Different from the others." Draco explained, his eyes fixed on the moon. "More expressive, more intriguing. From the moment I met you, I knew you were captivating."
Hermione stopped breathing, transfixed by Draco's words as he continued to stare at the moon, answering casually:
"Then I found out you were Muggle-born, and all my damned prejudices, instilled in me by my father, came to confuse me and mess with my head. For a long time I thought he was right and that you were there to distract me, like a siren. I thought being a Muggle girl made you special and... bewitching."
He let out a small laugh that shook his shoulders.
"I was stupid. If I'd concentrated for three seconds on the other Muggle-borns at Hogwarts, I would have realised that you were the only one who had that effect on me. You're different, but not because of where you're from. I don't know why, but all I could see was you. I was obsessed with you. I waited for you in the corridors so I could get three words out of you and feel the adrenaline I always get when I talk to you."
Hermione didn't move, afraid he would stop talking if she did. He rarely confided in her about his feelings and now that he was on a roll, she was dying to know what was next.
"Once we were friends, it was harder to pretend." Draco went on, deep in his memories. "My father's prejudices evaporated because you showed me they weren't true. You didn't cheat, you were really smart. Time passed more quickly when I was with you, and I soon realised that I couldn't stay away from you. When I got that letter from my father, I realised what I was doing was wrong and I stopped talking to you to protect you. But I guess I'm being selfish, because I'll never be able to resist you, I guess."
He looked away from the moon to rest his blue-grey eyes on hers and continued in a low, grave voice:
"It was about then that I realised I was in love with you. It hit me when you came down the stairs in your Ball dress and I wasn't your date. I was jealous of Krum, but mostly I was jealous that he could dance with you in front of everyone without anyone objecting. I could never do that with you. Because of my family, my lineage, my blood and all that goes with it. I don't stand a chance against Weasley, because I can't fight for you."
He inhaled and sat up suddenly, as if talking about Ron had stung him and he could feel the pain in his neck.
"Anyway, to answer your question, it was then. I realised the depth of my feelings for you when I saw you dancing with another boy and it made me angry like nothing had ever made me angry before. Maybe you're right, maybe my jealousy is unhealthy, but I'll never stop being jealous, because it shows me how much I love you."
Hermione let out a breath that had been stuck in her throat since he'd started talking. She'd never thought he could give himself away so much with a simple question. Most of all, she found it hard to believe that the sneaky boy who had bullied her in her early years at Hogwarts could have felt anything other than hatred for her. She'd thought he'd only had feelings for her since fourth year, when they'd started talking in secret...
The dose of information was too much. Hermione had barely had time to digest it before he ended the conversation:
"That photo of the fairy better be worth it, because I've just told you my darkest secrets."
His light tone of voice contrasted with his confession like the black sky against his skin.
"Draco, I..."
"No, no, Granger." he interrupted, placing his hand over hers to silence her. "I said yes to a question, but I don't want my feelings to turn into a debate. I already told you, I don't want to talk about it. Now you know. Can we stop talking about it, once and for all?"
"Why?" asked Hermione impulsively. "You tell me that and I'm not supposed to react?"
"I don't want you to feel obliged to react just because I'm confessing something personal to you." Draco said, more firmly than before. "I don't want to confuse you. We can never be anything, the two of us, so we might as well put this behind us and enjoy the friendship we've built as much as we can. Don't you think?"
"Yes, I value our friendship, but..."
"That's all I ask of you, Granger." he snapped.
"Why are you being so pessimistic?" asked Hermione irritably.
"I'm not pessimistic, I'm realistic." Draco replied. "My father is a Death Eater who wouldn't hesitate for a second to kill you if he could. I'm a Slytherin, and your best friend's worst enemy, who's supposed to save us from war by riding around on a confetti-spitting unicorn or something. You're in love with another boy in Gryffindor who comes from an obviously loving and tolerant family, the exact opposite of mine. I can't compete with that. I know it, and you know it. I'm not a pessimist, you're the one who's too optimistic. I'll take what I can get, until we can't and the war puts us on opposite sides."
Hermione let out an exclamation that almost sounded like a sob.
"Do you really think it's going to end like this?" she asked, even though she knew the answer.
"Of course it will, Granger." Draco replied confidently. "The war has already started, and we're not on the same side."
Hermione had gone from astonishment to dismay so quickly that she could feel the change in her veins. Draco's sudden mood swings were contagious.
"But let's stop talking about it." he said with finality. "Show me the picture instead."
Hermione sniffed and decided to put the whole discussion they'd just had to the back of her mind. She preferred not to insist at the risk of them arguing and spoiling his good mood. Besides, it seemed like a waste of time to think about such things while she was standing next to him.
Draco held out his hand to her.
Hermione opened the book and handed him the picture. It was a little damaged around the edges and there was a crease in the middle from being stuck in her parents' frame. But there was still Hermione's smile, which hadn't faded on the glossy paper.
Draco lifted the photo to his eyes for a closer look and smiled when he saw her pale green dress and star-shaped wand.
"Very nice costume." Draco commented.
"Thank you." she said with a deep chuckle. She pointed to the dress she was wearing in the photo: "My mother made the stars on the dress and my father made the wings on my back. They're made of silk. I wanted them in green to go with my dress, but my dad only had pink left, so I said yes because it went with my wand. As you can see, my hair is already in a disastrous state..."
Draco raised his head at this, his eyebrows furrowed:
"Your hair is not in a disastrous state."
"You'll have to ask Parkinson if it isn't." she said ironically, and Draco rolled his eyes. "I used to wear the suit to sleep sometimes, so the wings have sagged a bit over time. And, as you know, the boy in my class caused the terrible wand incident..."
"Which you then telepathically threw into the fountain." Draco finished with a grin. "I shouldn't be surprised, after hearing what you did to Skeeter..."
"He deserved far worse than she did." she said in a sad voice. "I loved that wand."
"You didn't know you'd get a real one a few years later." he replied, looking back at the photo. "It always freaks me out when I see a photo that doesn't move. It looks like you're frozen on paper, it's so unlike you."
"I see it more as a capture in time." Hermione said wisely. "But I suppose it would have been better if my parents had taken a picture of me with my new camera, maybe we could have seen my wings spread behind my back."
He looked at the photo again, a smile on his face. Then he handed it to her.
"You can keep it, if you want." she said with a shrug. "My parents have whole photo albums of them, they won't notice that one snapshot is missing from their fairy Hermione collection."
Draco looked surprised, but gladly accepted and tucked it away in his uniform pocket. Then he leaned his head back against the back of the bench and Hermione did the same. She stared at the moon.
With Draco next to her, it was as if the volume in her head had finally been turned off. The thoughts that had been running through her head all the time and hadn't given her a second's peace were finally gone.
Hermione hated silence. But she loved it when she was with Draco.
She turned her head towards him, taking in the line of his jaw in profile and his hair ruffled by the wind. He had closed his eyes and was humming softly.
"Draco, I..."
She wanted to tell him. She wanted to rip the words out of her mouth, just like he had a few months ago. She wanted to tell him that she felt the same way about him, that she couldn't bear to be away from him, that the love she felt for Ron was small compared to the overwhelming feelings she had for him.
But the confession refused to leave her tongue. She didn't know how to say it, how to put it as beautifully as he had. She didn't know how to give him this confession, how to drop this time bomb that would change everything.
So she remained silent and looked at the moon.
But if Hermione had known how little time they had left, she might have told him that night.
.
.
Draco
.
.
"Where's Blaise?"
Draco lifted his head from his breakfast plate and looked around. It was Monday morning and the Great Hall was swarming with students in a hurry to finish their meals before classes started. Everyone was talking and eating at breakneck speed, and the noise mingled with the arrival of owls, landing more or less safely on the tables to deliver the mail. Granger was the only person in the Hall reading a textbook against her milk jug, indifferent to the hubbub in the room.
Theo looked strangely at the Prophet's owl. Usually it was Blaise who took down the paper and slipped a Knut into its satchel, but Blaise's seat was empty and the owl held out its paw, waiting for payment with an irritated hoot.
Draco fumbled in his pocket to pay the owl and Pansy took the paper with a shrug:
"Didn't you see him this morning?"
"I did." Theo replied. "He was asleep."
"Well, that's probably where he is." Pansy teased as she opened the Prophet to her favourite page.
"That's strange." Theo replied in a tired voice. "Blaise always gets up first."
Draco nodded. Now that he thought about it, Blaise was always the first to get up, and it was he who pushed the others to wake up every morning. When Draco had left the dormitory, he had thought he was already at breakfast and hadn't noticed the closed curtains around his bed.
"He'll be here soon." Pansy said confidently.
Theo consulted his watch with a grimace.
"He'd better be, we've got class in ten minutes."
Indeed, Draco could see the students of the various Houses coming out of the Great Hall to their respective classes. Granger, Potter and Weasley followed, and Granger gave him a discreet glance just before they passed through the doors.
"We have Transfiguration." Theo added, his eyebrows knitting together. "If he doesn't come, McGo will kill him."
"Maybe he thinks we've got History of Magic and decided to skip it." Draco tried. "Let's just say he's not well."
"McGo will never let this go." Pansy said.
Theo looked thoughtfully at Blaise's seat, then got up when he heard the bell announcing the start of classes.
"We have to go." he said. " Do we say he's ill then?"
"No, I'll wake him up." Draco decided, wiping his fingers with his towel.
Then he realised something that filled him with horror.
"Oh Merlin, don't tell me I'm going to find him naked with a girl?!" he yelped.
Pansy laughed and Theo nodded with a sympathetic pout:
"There's a good chance. And since I went through a similar scene a year ago, I wish you all my courage and mental strength."
Pansy stopped laughing and threw her spoon in his face.
Draco looked around for Daphne, but she was sitting at the Slytherin table talking to Millicent Bulstrode. Her tear streaked face proved that she hadn't spent the night with Blaise.
The three of them got up and Draco accompanied Theo and Pansy down the stairs.
"Hurry up, you'll be late!" Theo warned urgently.
They climbed quickly and Draco went down to the dungeons. Whispering the password, he crossed the empty Common Room in a few strides, went down to the dormitories and stopped in front of the door. He took a deep breath and opened the door, ready to see the worst possible scene.
But Blaise's bed was still closed and he could hear the sound of his breathing filtered through the thick curtains. Draco was tempted to go back the other way, but thought of McGonagall's horribly stern face if she found out he'd skipped class and approached reluctantly.
Thinking of all the love he had for Blaise and vowing to remind him that he owed him for the rest of his life, Draco grabbed the curtain, clenched his teeth and covered his eyes with the palm of his hand. He yanked it open, his eyes shut, desperate to avoid seeing Blaise naked with a girl and having the image burned into his retinas forever.
"Blaise, wake up." he said in a voice devoid of any warmth.
There was no reply. Draco spread two fingers to catch a glimpse of something and found Blaise lying on his stomach in bed. He was (thank Merlin) in his pyjamas, one arm tucked under his head and the other in an obviously uncomfortable position. The duvet was half on the floor and his legs were covered by the sheet he'd taken off in his sleep. He was alone.
Draco pulled his hand away and shook Blaise's shoulder:
"Blaise, wake up!" he repeated more loudly.
A sleepy grunt was the only answer. Draco insisted and pulled on his arm to make him react:
"Blaise! You're late!"
The boy finally opened one eye and looked Draco up and down.
"Piss off." he muttered in a sleepy voice.
"We have McGonagall this morning, if you ditch she'll have your head."
Another grunt. Blaise shifted to put the pillow on his head. Draco rolled his eyes and went to the foot of his bed to rummage through his trunk. He found a shirt and his uniform trousers, which he threw at Blaise.
"Get dressed, quickly! We're already late!"
Blaise grunted again, but finally agreed to lift his head. He focused his vision and stopped at Draco, a look of surprise on his still sleepy features.
"Twas you?" he asked, half confused and half grumpy. "Thought it was Theo."
He got up lazily, took off his T-shirt and put on his shirt, yawning.
"Do you really think Theo would have missed five minutes of class? No, I had to do it. You're welcome, by the way." Draco added.
He continued to search his trunk for a Slytherin tie. Blaise didn't thank him and continued to dress as slowly as possible.
"Theo would have been gentler." Blaise protested.
"Maybe, but he'd have told you not to be late for class because of the bloody O.W.L.s. I can do it if you want."
"No, don't bother."
Blaise finished getting dressed and Draco found an unironed tie at the bottom of his trunk. He tossed it to Blaise, who tied it around his neck, then went into the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face. Draco waited by the door, counting the minutes on his watch.
Finally, Blaise came out of the bathroom. He put on his green robes, put his wand in his pocket and started to put the day's textbooks into his bag.
"I'm relieved." Draco said with a sneer.
"Of what?" asked Blaise in a still sleepy voice.
"That you're alone. I thought I would find you in... Charming company."
Blaise gave a wry laugh.
"I never have sex in the dormitory." he said in a determined tone.
Draco nodded and watched as his friend stacked his textbooks and yawned. He noticed that his face was even more closed than usual, with a sad glow that didn't really suit him.
"Are you all right?" Draco asked timidly.
"It wasn't much of a wake-up call, no..." Blaise muttered.
"You don't look well." Draco continued, who hated talking about feelings when it wasn't Granger talking back to him.
Blaise turned his head towards Draco with a raised eyebrow.
"Yeah, I'm fine."
They walked out of the dormitory and up to the Common Room.
"Usually it's you who wakes us." Draco insisted.
"And much nicer too."
"Blaise, are you sure you're all right?" asked Draco one last time. "You look... sad or something."
Blaise sighed and avoided looking at him, answering in a low voice:
"No, I'm fine, I just... stayed up late and couldn't sleep. Nothing serious."
Draco watched his best friend's face, and although he felt that something was definitely wrong, he decided not to continue his questioning. If he didn't want to talk about it, Draco didn't want to force him. He didn't want to be like Pansy and Theo, who always asked too many questions.
They hurried on and arrived at the Hall. Seeing it empty was not a good sign. They turned towards the Transfiguration wing at a brisk pace and Draco was startled when a Ravenclaw first year appeared in front of him out of nowhere, her eyes brimming with tears. Draco had to brake suddenly, almost knocking her over. The girl had two braids on either side of her head and looked far too small to be here.
"Hey, watch where you're going!" Draco said as he quickly walked around her.
"Excuse me?" the little girl squeaked in a voice hoarse with tears. "Could you help me? I got lost on my way to Herbology class and I can't find my way back..."
"What do we care?" asked Draco grumpily as he continued walking.
"Dray?" called Blaise in a low voice.
"What?" he barked.
"Aren't you supposed to be a prefect?"
Draco stopped abruptly and slapped his forehead.
"Shit! I forgot..."
He turned back to the first year, who was staring at him with wide, bewildered eyes. She was shaking with fear.
"The greenhouses, right?" he asked, and the little girl nodded shyly. "You need to go through that door and down the left-hand path until you come to a crossroads. Turn right and you'll find the greenhouses."
"Thank you, sir."
And she took off running. Draco started walking again, next to Blaise, who looked like he was about to burst out laughing.
"Don't tell Theo." Draco warned dryly.
"Oh no, never." Blaise replied in a singing voice.
He knocked on the door of Transfiguration class and McGonagall's shrill voice pierced the wood:
"Come in!"
Blaise opened the door and they were met with curious looks from the other students. The lesson had been going on for some time, because everyone had a mouse on their desk and was listening to McGonagall's instructions as she stood in front of the blackboard. She tilted her head to look at the two newcomers over her glasses.
"Ah, you've finally decided to join us." the teacher said cynically. "What an honour you do us."
"We're very sorry, Professor McGonagall." Blaise apologised in that charming voice he reserved for professors.
His voice didn't work on the Transfiguration teacher, though.
"May I ask what kept you?" McGonagall asked.
Draco was about to tell her about the first year asking for directions when Blaise replied:
"I didn't wake up, Professor."
Draco saw Pansy and Theo's eyes widen simultaneously at this excuse, which was nonetheless true. Blaise maintained his phlegmatic posture and looked quietly at McGonagall, and Draco could have sworn he saw a flash of surprise cross her wrinkled face at this.
"And you, Malfoy?" she barked.
"I went looking for him." Draco admitted.
McGonagall looked at the two boys one after the other, at a loss for words. She had clearly been expecting a lie and was rather taken aback by their frankness. Finally she decided:
"I'm taking five points off each of you. Sit down."
Draco and Blaise obeyed without question and took their seats at the desk behind Pansy and Theo.
"Well then." the teacher continued. "As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, we'll now move on to Vanishing spells on vertebrates. You should all know how to make inanimate objects disappear, so I'd like you to practise on the mice in front of you. Miss Parkinson, you've been practising on mice since your first year, can you stop moaning every time you see one?" demanded McGonagall, turning to the dark-haired girl with a look of deep annoyance.
"But it's moving!" wailed Pansy in a shrill voice.
McGonagall rolled her eyes and took a mouse from its cage, placing it on her desk for all to see. Then she placed her wand on the beast's back and spoke in a clear voice:
"Evanesco."
The mouse immediately disappeared.
"As you can see, the mouse has vanished." McGonagall announced, as if it were perfectly normal. "Remember to concentrate on the animal, as you do with inert objects, and visualise it in its entirety." Draco smiled at Granger's words. "You may begin."
Draco and his white mouse exchanged a glance, one concentrated, the other frightened. He placed the tip of his wand on its back and looked at it for a long moment, then recited:
"Evanesco."
The mouse remained whole and continued to look at him anxiously. He tried several more times without succeeding in removing a single hair. The more he tried, the more he pushed his wand into the mouse, which began to squeak in protest.
Blaise's grey mouse next to him was not much more cooperative. It kept running along the desk, hoping to escape, and Blaise spent the whole hour chasing it. Crabbe and Goyle thought they had succeeded, but their mice had simply run away and they searched the whole class for them under McGonagall's authoritative gaze.
Draco soon grew frustrated at not being able to make his rodent disappear, and Pansy didn't help by yelling whenever her mouse made the slightest movement.
"Stop squealing, you're making it hard for me to concentrate!" snapped Theo.
His brown mouse no longer had a tail.
"It disgusts me!" replied Pansy, who looked like she was going to throw up. "Why can't we train on kittens?"
She closed her eyes and pointed her wand randomly at the desk, hoping to make her mouse disappear in the process.
"Evanesco." Draco repeated tirelessly, but his mouse was still on the desk, waiting for its fate and staring at him.
Blaise's mouse managed to escape his grasp and quickly climbed onto his shoulder. Blaise tried to catch it, but failed. The mouse jumped up and landed on the next desk, right in Daphne's hair, and she screamed in horror.
Blaise lunged at her and snatched the poor mouse away from Daphne, scratching her skull in the process.
"Sorry, sorry!" said Blaise, horrified.
Daphne massaged her head and glared at him, but it was hard to tell whether she was aiming at Blaise or the mouse. He went back to his seat sheepishly and Daphne didn't look away, even more deadly than an Avada Kedavra.
"Wow, that was one of the most embarrassing scenes I've ever witnessed." Draco commented with a chuckle.
"Shut the fuck up." Blaise muttered, still clutching the poor mouse in his fist.
"I did it!" Theo suddenly exclaimed, pointing to his empty desk. "I did it, it's gone! Professor McGonagall, I did it!"
"Excellent, Mr Nott." complimented McGonagall. "Can you tell me where your mouse is now?"
"In non-being, that is to say, in everything." Theo replied immediately.
"Excellent, excellent. Mr Nott was the first to make his mouse Vanish, in just twenty minutes." she announced to the rest of the class, and Theo lowered his head to hide his face with his overly long hair. "I therefore give Slytherin ten points."
Draco and Blaise congratulated him, while Pansy let out a loud yelp, but it wasn't really for Theo's benefit so much as the fact that her mouse had settled down on the table for a little nap.
"Can you help your neighbour, Nott?" asked McGonagall, making the mouse reappear with a flick of her wand. "She seems to need it badly..."
Theo nodded and turned to help Pansy.
After thirty minutes, Draco was frankly annoyed.
"I can't make the bloody mouse disappear!" he grumbled, loud enough for Blaise to hear but not the teacher who was circulating through the rows. "How are we supposed to visualise it in its entirety? I'm supposed to imagine his guts?"
Pansy gagged and Theo turned to answer:
"No, you just have to perceive the mouse in your head."
"Perceive it?" replied Draco, irritated. "I see it, that should be enough, shouldn't it?"
"No, it's not. You have to perceive it, imagine what it feels like." Theo continued.
"It's a fucking mouse." Draco replied, pointing at the animal with his hand. "I suppose it wants a piece of cheese?"
Blaise laughed, but Theo seemed to take this exercise with the utmost seriousness.
"Imagine it's you in its place!"
Draco, stunned, looked at his mouse again. It was white, with pink ears and a rather short tail wrapped around its paws. Its black eyes were looking around desperately.
"How am I supposed to feel like a mouse?" asked Draco, growing impatient at the strangeness of the request.
"It can't be too far from a ferret." Blaise commented with a chuckle.
Everyone laughed, including Pansy, despite her discomfort.
"Shut up."
Blaise put his mouse down on the desk and concentrated on it, holding it by the tail for fear it would escape again.
"Evanesco."
Suddenly the mouse disappeared with one last mournful squeak.
"How did you do that?!" gasped Draco, who hadn't managed to make a single whisker disappear since the beginning of the lesson.
"I did what Theo said." Blaise replied with a shrug. "I put myself in its place."
Draco muttered to himself and concentrated on his mouse. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't put himself in the place of the poor trapped animal.
.
.
.
.
For the first time since the beginning of the year, Weasley and Potter found they had homework to do and Granger was forced to accompany them to the Library. Draco knew this from the small apologetic smile she gave him as they left the Great Hall.
He'd be lying if he said he wasn't disappointed, but at the same time it was better for them to go separately from time to time so as not to arouse suspicion. Since Theo was going there to study Arithmancy, Draco jumped at the chance and offered to accompany him. He gladly accepted, and they left shortly after dinner, under Pansy's suspicious gaze.
On the way to the Library, Draco noticed that Theo was holding back a smile.
"What are you so happy about?" he asked.
"Haven't you seen the overall Transfiguration class rankings?" replied Theo, half-singing.
"Only you look at those rankings, Nott." Draco snarled.
"No, actually. Granger looks at them every Monday morning too."
Draco turned his head sharply in his direction. He still found it hard to hear that name out of Theo's mouth. It irritated him, as if he'd given him an affectionate nickname.
"And?" he asked curtly.
"I beat her in Transfiguration!" he replied happily.
Draco did not hide his astonishment.
"Really?"
Theo read his expression and lost his smile.
"Thanks, it's nice to see you're so surprised." he grumbled. "It's not the first time, you know. I often beat her in Transfiguration and Astronomy. But she always manages to beat me in History of Magic and Arithmancy, no matter how hard I work to get a better grade. It drives me crazy."
"And Potions?" asked Draco, genuinely interested in the strange competition that had linked the two since their first year. "And Defence Against the Dark Arts?"
"I don't count Potions, because Snape clearly favours the Slytherins." Theo explained. "If he were objective, he'd give her a better grade than me, that's obvious. And she beat me in Defence Against the Dark Arts until this year, but don't get me started on Umbridge, or I'll get grumpy again."
"What about Herbology?" asked Draco.
Theo's face fell a little when he heard that.
"You'll never guess who beat us in Herbology this year." he said gravely.
"What, who? A Slytherin?" tried Draco.
"No."
"Who then?"
"Fucking Longbottom." Theo growled.
Draco stopped and looked at his friend to see if he was making fun of him. But it must have been true, because he wasn't smiling at all: the prospect of being overtaken by Longbottom even looked like a big blow to his morale.
"Seriously? Longbottom?" repeated Draco. "But he barely knows how to use his wand."
"Exactly, you don't need a wand in Herbology." the brown-haired boy remarked.
"It's probably Granger helping him." Draco said as he turned towards the Library corridor. "They work together every Saturday."
"They do?" asked Theo in surprise.
Realising his mistake a little too late, Draco added in a barely audible murmur:
"Yeah, I think so..."
They entered the Library and Draco immediately spotted Granger. She was sitting at the large table near the entrance, between an exhausted Potter and a completely lost Weasley. They were drowning in books. Granger was obviously working on her Rune Study, but she had left her textbook to look at Weasley's and was writing a few lines of the essay for him. Weasley's long nose almost touched Granger's hair, and Draco felt a powerful surge of jealousy at the thought that he could smell the strawberry coming from her.
"Shall we sit there?" Theo offered, pointing to a table a little further away that offered a perfect view of Granger and his gang. Draco immediately agreed.
They sat down and Theo took out his Arithmancy textbook to hide behind. Draco knew he wouldn't be able to talk to him for the next hour, so he pretended to read his charts while discreetly looking at Granger over the top of his book.
He saw her grow impatient and reproach Weasley, who replied with the same intensity. Draco could tell that he was counting on her to write his essay for him, but that she was refusing. Granger sat up straight in her chair and gave Weasley an unwelcoming look, the kind she reserved for people who particularly annoyed her.
Draco wondered if she got the same thrill from arguing with Draco as she did with Weasley. For him, nothing had ever compared to the arguments he had with Granger. He loved to feel the vibrations running through him as they spat back and forth or to see the agitation in her eyes.
Granger eventually took a sip of tea. He could see her eyes scanning the lines Weasley was writing and he guessed her mouth was twisting behind the cup. Her fingers were gripping the handle a little too tightly, as if to stop herself from pulling out the quill and writing instead.
She rolled her eyes and turned her head towards Harry. As she did so, her gaze swept across the room, coming to rest on Draco with a shock in her features. He held back a smile at her surprise. She hadn't noticed his arrival and seeing him had probably come as a shock. He stared for a moment into her chocolate pupils, the ones that were always animated by curiosity, the ones he could drown in because the colour was so mesmerising, before Potter tugged at her arm and she turned her head abruptly to listen to what he was asking. He was pointing to something in his textbook and Granger gently explained, but Draco could tell that seeing him had unnerved her. Her cheeks were a little red and she seemed to be forcing herself not to look at him.
For an hour, Draco watched her from an angle and she did the same. The two boys around her were far too engrossed in their homework to pay any attention. And no matter how hard she tried to translate her runes, she couldn't stop herself from looking at him whenever she could, as if by reflex.
And he did the same.
Watching Granger study had always been a fascinating spectacle, but doing it under these conditions was even more intoxicating. Every time their eyes met, he felt a surge of electricity on his skin. It was addictive. Soon he was obsessed with looking at her, and so was she. He had never experienced such tension from a simple glance. It was as if they shared a secret that anyone could discover at any moment.
"Do you understand the lesson?" asked Theo suddenly, putting his textbook back on the table.
Draco snapped out of his vision and concentrated on the diagram in front of him for the first time since he'd sat down.
"No, not really." he said.
Theo sighed and ran a hand over his face:
"Me neither." he admitted.
He glanced around the room and found Potter, Weasley and Granger's table.
"Too bad the other two are here, we could have asked Granger for help." Theo lamented in an overwhelmed voice.
"Granger?" repeated Draco with a confused look on his face, pronouncing her name as if it was the first time it had come out of his mouth. He looked in the same direction as Theo, pretending that he had only just noticed their presence. "No way, I'll never ask that girl for help."
Theo rolled his eyes sternly.
"You really are the most stubborn person in the world, Malfoy."
He sighed again and dove back into his textbook.
And Draco smiled, because Theo had no idea that the most stubborn person in the world was just a few feet away from them.