Draco
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Draco escorted Granger back to the Common Room, making her repeat her promise to get some sleep and gather her strength for tomorrow's journey every step of the way, but he was sure she wouldn't do it. Stubborn as she was, she'd probably spend the night replaying the events of the previous day until she made herself sick.
He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek to say goodbye, leaving his lips a second or two longer than necessary to enjoy the contact of her flushed skin against his. He watched as she spoke the password to the woman's sleeping painting and climbed the passage. Then she disappeared, leaving Draco with a bitter taste on his tongue.
On his way back, he ran into Goldstein, who took great pleasure in taking twenty points from him. Draco didn't even fight the penalty, even though he was pretty sure that Prefects couldn't take points from other Prefects. He was far too exhausted to fight him in the Hall.
When Draco entered the Common Room, he was surprised to see a 'party' going on. By party, he meant several gatherings of shy students who didn't dare dance to the strange music coming from the gramophone and whose tables were sorely lacking in bottles of alcohol. Draco chuckled to himself as he realized how incapable the Slytherins were of organizing a decent party without Pansy's help. She really deserved to be the official hostess.
Draco spotted Crabbe and Goyle slumped on sofas, looking deeply bored. Draco hurried towards the dormitories before either of them noticed his presence and urged him to stay a while. In this atmosphere and without alcohol, Draco wasn't sure if he could.
When he reached the dormitory, he was immediately greeted by the vision of Blaise sitting on his bed, eating the sandwich Theo had brought him. He looked much better than he had at the beginning of the day. Theo's potion idea had paid off.
"Hey." he called as he entered the room.
Theo turned his head away from his novel for a second and rested his gaze on Draco, and took on an expression of horror copied from Pansy:
"My God, Draco, you're dripping!"
Pansy, who was lying on Draco's bed reading Witch Weekly, clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth:
"And which God are you referring to exactly?"
"The God of Snow?" asked Blaise with a smile.
"Come on, it's just an expression..." grumbled Theo.
"A Muggle expression." Pansy clarified in the same disapproving tone. Eris, next to her, barked in agreement.
Draco took off his sweater and squeezed it out just above Theo's head, who jumped from the chair with a scream of horror:
"FUCK YOU MALEFOY!" he yelled as he tossed his hair, spraying Draco with ice water.
"Well, that's better, we recognize you now." Blaise quipped, now attacking his slice of apple pie, his favorite dessert.
"I'm going to take a shower." Draco called cheerfully, narrowly avoiding the wet novel that Theo had thrown in his face. "How are you feeling Blaise?"
The boy gave him a reassuring smile:
"Much better."
"Have you had... any news?"
"From my mum?" asked Blaise as Draco dodged another projectile from Theo. "No, but she's in New Zealand at the moment, so I didn't expect my owl to reach her until at least Christmas."
Theo, who hadn't managed to reach Draco, took a pillow from his bed and pointed his wand at it:
"Gelida Aguamenti! You're dead, Malfoy!"
With the soaked, icy pillow in his hands, Theo ran into the dormitory after Draco, trying to throw the pillow at him, but Draco was just as fast as he was. They circled the beds several times, Draco laughing and Theo furious, in front of an amused Blaise and a frankly annoyed Pansy. As Draco slid to the floor on a sharp turn, Theo put the pillow behind his head, aiming with as much kick as possible. But just before he threw it, Draco used the bedpost to dodge at the last second. The pillow flew across the room and smashed into Pansy's face.
"Oh... Fuck." Theo groaned in horror as he realized what he'd just done. "Pansy, I'm..."
Pansy, her face so red with anger that Draco half expected to see smoke coming out of her nostrils, grabbed the pillow with all her might and glared at Theo.
"THEODORE NOTT JUNIOR." she screamed, and Theo cringed at the sound of his full name.
"It wasn't me, it was Draco, he was the one who..."
"YOU WERE THE ONE WHO THROWN THE PILLOW AT ME, WEREN'T YOU?"
Draco chuckled mischievously at Theo's uncomfortable face and walked around his bed to the bathroom.
He took a long, hot shower to get rid of the stiffness in his muscles after spending so much time outside. Through the thin wall of the room he could hear Pansy's indignant howls and Theo's anxious replies. After a while, the arguing stopped and Draco emerged from the shower with a smile on his face. He brushed his teeth and put on his pajamas.
When he returned to the dormitory, the atmosphere was tense. Pansy was still on edge, Theo was sitting in his armchair in a clearly sulky position, and Eris was chewing on the pillow Theo had thrown, probably thinking it was a toy. The only person who didn't seem bothered by the sudden change in atmosphere was Blaise, as usual, still eating his pie.
"Can I at least have my pillow back, please?" asked Theo in an annoyed tone as he watched Eris pierce it with his little teeth.
"No." Pansy replied coldly, still leafing through her magazine. "He has every right to attack projectiles thrown at his mistress."
She patted her dog's head, who purred, and Theo let out an indignant hiss.
Draco stowed his things in his trunk and climbed into bed.
"You know, the Slytherins are completely lost without you." he said to Pansy.
She turned her head from the page of her magazine filled with embroidered capes and high heels to look at him:
"What do you mean?"
"They're incapable of throwing a halfway decent party.'" Draco explained with a mocking laugh. "I stopped by on my way here, and the atmosphere gave me the creeps."
"Really?" she asked, her eyes twinkling with satisfaction.
"Yeah, it was so ridiculous, I even saw Crabbe and Goyle, they..."
But Draco's sentence was abruptly cut short by a loud bang from across the room. Everyone gasped, especially Theo, who threw his novel over his head and almost fell out of his chair. His box of chocolates crashed to the floor and Eris barked in panic.
Draco was slow to identify the source of the noise. At the end of Blaise's bed, a bright white light shone into the boy's face. Draco caught sight of a translucent, feline form. The figure leaned forward as if to greet Blaise, then raised its head. A Patronus. Eris jumped furiously at the sight of the large, wiry cat.
But the more Draco looked at it, the more he thought he recognized the animal, like a big wild cat, or a cheetah, or... a puma. It was definitely a puma.
He had no idea whose Patronus it was, but he didn't have to ask the question aloud, because the puma opened its mouth and delivered its message in the perfect imitation of Blaise's mother's voice:
"I'm leaving right now. Go home and stay there, don't panic, I'll be there soon."
Then the Patronus vanished in a puff of smoke.
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Hermione
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Hermione's muscles were still numb from the cold outside when she awoke. She didn't really remember falling asleep, she'd just been lying on the couch in the Common Room thinking about her worries, but when a voice intruded on her dreams and a hand shook her shoulder hard, she had to painfully open one eye.
The room was pitch black. The fire was out, and it was still night outside. Hermione focused her blurred vision on the face leaning over her: a severe bun, wrinkled features, and rectangular glasses...
"Miss Granger?"
Hermione jumped as she recognized McGonagall.
"Professor? Is everything all right? Is it Ron, his father? What happened?" she asked, her tone both jerky and slowed by sleep.
"We haven't heard anything yet." McGonagall murmured.
Hermione noticed that she was holding a candlestick, projecting enough light for her to see in the darkness, but not enough to illuminate the entire room. She rubbed her eyelids, trying to chase away the last traces of sleep.
"Professor, I..."
"Miss Granger, we must go." McGonagall cut in, the calm gently replaced by a firm tone that woke Hermione with a start.
McGonagall put her hand, which wasn't holding the candle, on Hermione's arm and Hermione pulled herself out of the blanket and stood up feverishly.
"You must pack your things urgently." the professor instructed, directing Hermione towards the dormitories. "You have five minutes. Take only what you need for the three weeks of vacation."
"Professor?" asked Hermione in a small voice, her head still too fuzzy from sleep to understand what McGonagall was implying.
"You're going to London, Miss Granger." McGonagall explained matter-of-factly. "Mr. Weasley is still at St. Mungo's, we have no news of his condition, but he is alive. Molly is there now, and Mr. Potter and the Weasley family will be joining her shortly. I sent them your request to come, and Molly agreed immediately, but I must get you away without Umbridge noticing your absence, so you must be very discreet, understood? No one must know you've joined the Weasleys on this break, including your roommates."
Hermione nodded. It was a secret she could easily keep from Lavender and Parvati, they weren't the type to pry into Hermione's life like that. Draco on the other hand... Hermione tried to keep a neutral expression as she thought about the fact that she had revealed extremely confidential information to the son of a Death Eater. She hoped that Draco's Occlumency skills were as high as he claimed; she didn't even dare to imagine what would happen if it got out.
"Gather your things before the others wake up." McGonagall ordered. "I'll wait for you here."
Hermione hurried up the stairs and entered the dormitory, trying to make as little noise as possible. She opened her trunk and threw in some random clothes, a few books, her pajamas, her toiletry bag, her Christmas presents, then took Crookshanks' empty cage and went downstairs as fast as she could. Her cat was asleep on the armchair in front of the fireplace, and she locked him up under the sharp gaze of McGonagall, who made no comment when Crookshanks let out a horrified meow.
"I'm ready, Professor." Hermione said a little breathlessly.
"Very well, let's go."
They walked out through the painting and along the empty Castle corridors to McGonagall's office. There was no noise, but McGonagall still held her candlestick at arm's length, as if expecting to meet someone at any moment. Probably Umbridge, Hermione wouldn't be surprised to see her lurking around Dumbledore's or Filch's office, trying to incriminate as many people as possible.
Hermione had no idea what time it was. Only then did she notice that McGonagall was not wearing her usual emerald cloak, but a tartan robe, and that she had removed her pointed hat. Hermione felt a certain uneasiness at the thought of waking her Head of House in the middle of the night, but her desire to find Ron and Harry was far too strong to care.
"Have you told your parents, Miss Granger?" asked McGonagall suddenly as they descended the stairs.
A lump of fear rose in her throat as she realized she hadn't thought about them at all since the day before.
"Um... no." she replied pitifully.
"That's all right, we'll let them know as soon as we get to my office. I temporarily connected your chimney to the Floo network yesterday, so you can inform them of your last-minute change of plans, rather than waiting for them to receive a letter."
"But Professor, I thought Umbridge controlled all the chimneys at Hogwarts?" asked Hermione, not even bothering to add the "Professor" before her last name.
McGonagall's face darkened in the glow of the candlestick she carried.
"She doesn't have access to mine yet. But it won't be long."
Hermione could clearly hear the bitterness in her voice.
They arrived in the study just as the Castle's torches magically lit up, signaling the end of curfew. McGonagall locked her office door and pointed her wand at the dead wood in the fireplace. She sent a stream of flames up, warming Hermione's face and illuminating the den in an instant.
McGonagall picked up a small jar from the mantelpiece and handed it to Hermione:
"Throw a handful of powder into the fire and say your address."
Hermione nodded and knelt in front of McGonagall's fireplace, looking up at the flames crackling the wood. Hermione trusted her teacher unconditionally, but she couldn't help but feel a little scared at the thought of putting her face in there.
She took a handful of powder and threw it into the fireplace. Immediately, the flames took on a green color and rose even higher, as if she'd poured oil on them.
"8 Heathgate, Hampstead Garden, London!" she announced in a clear voice, trying not to swallow the cloud of ash that had been thrown over her face.
Hermione inhaled and dipped her head into the flames. She was surprised to find that they were barely warm against her skin, like a summer breeze. It was a good thing she'd seen Sirius do this before, otherwise she'd feel like a complete idiot.
A violent whirlwind shook her, and she closed her eyes with a yelp. Her head was being sucked forward, but her hands and legs were still resting on the parquet floor of McGonagall's office. It was an extremely strange sensation that made her instantly seasick. For a few seconds, Hermione felt her head spinning from the force of the whirlwind, and was on the verge of retreating when it stopped as abruptly as it had started. When she dared to open her eyes, she was shocked to see her living room plunged into darkness. She could see the legs of the coffee table, the sofa, and even a piece of her bench under the window.
"Dad?" she called hesitantly. "Mom? Dad? Are you in there?"
The hallway light came on and her father, dressed in his burgundy robes, entered the living room with a look of deep incomprehension on his face.
"Dad? It's me, it's Hermione!"
His father looked around in disbelief.
"Hermione?" he called, in the same tone Hermione had used when McGonagall had woken her a few minutes earlier. "Can I really hear you or is this a dream?"
"No, it's me Dad, I'm here, in the fireplace!"
He looked down at the hearth and jumped back when he saw her.
"MY GOD, HERMIONE!" he cried.
"Dad, it's all right, it's all right!" squealed Hermione to cover his scream of horror. "It's Floo Powder, a way of communicating between wizards, it's all right!"
"It's all right?" her father repeated with a weak little laugh, his hand over his heart. "My daughter's head is talking to me in my fireplace, am I supposed to assume that's normal? And why is our chimney doing that, we're not wizards!"
"It was Professor McGonagall who connected you for the time of day so I could talk to you." Hermione explained.
He seemed to relax a little at the mention of McGonagall.
"Christ, Hermione, don't ever do that to me again." he croaked. "I'm too old for this."
He cautiously approached the fireplace and knelt before her, carefully studying her face.
"Where's Mum?" asked Hermione.
"She's asleep, of course! It's way too early, especially to be having a conversation with someone in her fireplace! God, I'll never get used to magic."
Hermione smiled in spite of herself. Neither would she, to be honest.
"Is everything all right?" he asked, suddenly worried. "What did you want to tell me that couldn't wait for a letter?"
Hermione felt her heart beat against her fingertips in anxiety. She hated this. Lying. But she had no choice. She looked away slightly from her father's worried face and said in one breath:
"I've realized that I still have a lot of work to do here, and I don't think it would be wise to go home during the holidays. Everyone is staying at Hogwarts, and with the O.W.L. approaching, I think I'd better do the same, to study... Do you understand?"
Her father's features fell at the sound of that.
"Oh, but... You could take your textbooks to the Alps. No one will see you in the cottage, you can even take out your cauldron and your textbooks, and maybe your mother and I can help you study?"
Hermione could have sworn she felt her heart swell when she heard that.
"I'd love to, Dad, and I know you were looking forward to the ski trip, but... I need magic to work, and if I leave Hogwarts, I won't be able to practice... I'd hate to miss my O.W.L. because of it."
The worried wrinkle between his father's eyebrows faded and he shook his head:
"No, actually, you're right. It's better for you to work at your own pace. I know you take your studies to heart and I'd hate to see you waste your vacation worrying about studying. There will be plenty of other ski trips, right? Don't worry about it."
"Okay." Hermione said, barely holding back tears. "Thanks, Dad."
"Anytime, Mimi. I know someone who'll be disappointed not to be meeting you at the station, though."
Hermione didn't need to hear his first name to guess who her father was talking about.
"I'll write him a letter to apologize." she said as sincerely as she could. "I'm so sorry, Daddy. I'll send you your Christmas presents as soon as I can."
Her father smiled sadly:
"We'll miss you, Mimi. Not your Christmas presents."
Hermione started to apologize again, but her father added:
"Anyway, if you send me those delicious Hogsmeade chocolates, I'll forgive you faster."
Hermione laughed and her father's smile widened.
"So everything's good over there?" he asked. "Gods, I can't believe I'm talking to you in the fireplace. Your mother will never believe me when I tell her."
"Everything's fine." Hermione replied, her throat tight with the lie.
"Harry and Ron are fine? Are you still doing the herbarium with Neville?"
Hermione nodded, feeling the logs brush against her chin.
"Yes, fine. They're way behind in their studies, so they're quite happy that I'm staying so I can help them. And we've almost finished the herbarium with Neville, we're just missing a few flowers that only grow in the spring, like Moly or Narcissus."
"Perfect, great..."
Her father yawned suddenly and Hermione reflexively lifted her head to check the time, but her vision was too limited to see the clock.
"Why were you up so early anyway?" she asked.
"Oh, I was just peckish, I was about to go back to bed, it's a good coincidence that you... called at this time." her father said, unsure of what word to use for such a phenomenon.
"An orangette?" asked Hermione with a smile, tears seriously threatening to fall at the thought of her father eating an orangette and tea alone at the kitchen table.
"No, a ginger biscuit." he said, also a little emotional. "Orangettes are just for the two of us."
Hermione felt a tear fall and hoped her father couldn't see it through the ashes.
After promising to write to him and wishing him a good ski vacation, Hermione finally stepped away from the fireplace. Her knees were sore and her neck ached from the awkward position. She struggled to her feet and turned around. McGonagall was standing behind her desk, right next to Crookshanks' cage that Hermione had put there. They looked at each other for a second, and Hermione knew she'd just overheard the entire conversation. She knew that she had lied, that she wasn't staying at Hogwarts to study. That Harry and Ron weren't well. But the professor made no comment.
"Are you ready?" she asked instead.
"Yes, ready."
She picked up her trunk and her cat, who showed a look of pure indignation at being woken like that, and they left the office. There was no one on the second floor, but the Castle wasn't as lifeless as it had been before: Hermione could hear footsteps above their heads and voices, probably coming from the Great Hall. McGonagall took a back door behind a statue and they found themselves in the courtyard of Hogwarts. They walked in silence to the school gates. Hermione felt the cold creep into the seams of her jumper and stopped herself from looking up at the sky where Draco had kissed her on his broom. How could it have been just a day? Hermione felt as if it had been weeks.
The gates opened magically as they passed, and McGonagall led them a little further to where the carriages usually stopped to drop off students. Hermione expected to see one of them emerge from the darkness, but McGonagall answered her question by waving her wand in the air. In less than a minute, a powerful blast of air sent Hermione reeling backwards. Crookshanks flinched in his cage.
The Knight Bus was parked in front of them.
McGonagall, whose appearance hadn't changed even though Hermione's hair had probably tripled in volume due to the gust of wind, put down her wand and approached the bus. Stan Shunpike, the ticket inspector, came out of the back door and announced in a loud voice:
"Welcome aboard the Knight Bus, emergency transport for witches and wizards in distress. Wave your wand and hop on, we'll take you any…"
"It's quite all right, Mr. Shunpike!" interrupted McGonagall in an irritated voice.
As soon as he heard the professor, Stan stopped in an anxious stutter and his face turned a bright red.
"Oh, hello... good morning, Professor McGonagall. How..."
"Very well, thank you." she cut in dryly. "I entrust Miss Granger to your care. She must go to London."
Stan didn't take his eyes off McGonagall and nodded as if she'd just given him a Transfiguration homework assignment.
"How much is the ticket?" asked McGonagall.
"Eleven sickles, but it's free for you, Professor."
McGonagall raised her eyebrows.
"Oh, thank you Mr. Shunpike, that's very kind of you."
Hermione wondered if she hadn't planned on being offered the ticket since she had nothing but her wand, but she was feigning surprise so well that it was hard to be sure.
McGonagall turned to Hermione and offered her one of her rare smiles:
"Well then, I wish you an excellent holiday, Miss Granger. Enjoy your parents and come back to us well. And don't forget to give them my best regards."
She guessed the hidden message without the slightest difficulty. Hermione nodded and thanked her teacher as Stan loaded her trunk onto the bus.
When she boarded the Knight Bus, Hermione was surprised to see how full it was compared to the last time she'd taken it. The entire lower level was occupied.
Stan took his trunk up the stairs and Hermione followed, navigating with difficulty between the seats occupied by more or less sick travelers. The second floor was less crowded, but Stan climbed up to the third, where only three seats were taken, one of them by a dozing witch surrounded by ten owl cages.
"It's pretty crowded today, what with the festivities and all." Stan said as he put the trunk down on the front seat. "Hey, but I remember you!" he exclaimed, seeing Hermione's face for the first time since he'd arrived. "You've been here before, haven't you?"
"Yes, last year." she replied.
"I remember you." Stan said with a wink that he must have thought seductive. "Anyway, we've got a lot of people to drop off before we get to London."
He was much more of a smartass when McGonagall was gone.
Hermione was sure that if she had been on his bus, she would have been dropped off first, but she didn't dare point that out, mentally preparing herself for the monstrous nausea that awaited her if she stayed on the bus too long.
"Okay, I understand." she said and placed Crookshanks' cage next to her.
The bus started at that moment, with a noise so loud that Hermione gasped and nearly knocked her poor cat backwards. Stan didn't even seem to notice the jolt.
"Can I get you anything? Hot chocolate, tea?"
"No, nothing, thanks." she said.
"All right, call me if you need anything." he offered. "By the way, where are you going in London?"
Hermione almost said the address before remembering McGonagall's warning.
"King's Cross." she replied. "I'm meeting my parents there in the early afternoon."
"Okay, that works... Merlin, that cat!"
Crookshanks gave him a hateful look and Stan stammered an excuse to go back downstairs.
Hermione pulled the blanket her mother had knitted for her out of her trunk and wrapped herself in it. She definitely couldn't read; the turbulence caused by the speed of the bus would make her sick in less than five minutes. Hermione rested her head on the seat and distractedly watched the scenery pass by, going from the beach to pavilion streets in a matter of seconds with a sonorous "BANG" that startled poor Crookshanks. Hermione could hear the travelers on the lower floors protesting, or Stan shouting out place names at every stop. The witch's owls behind Hermione hooted as their cage slid to the ground.
And it was in the midst of this cacophony that Hermione fell asleep, exhausted from the events of the last few hours.
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When Hermione awoke, the sun was shining on the street and Crookshanks was sleeping curled up in his cage. There was no one else on her level; the owl lady had left. She had no idea what time it was, where they were, or even how she'd fallen asleep with all that shaking. Every time the scenery changed, the bus literally jumped up and down on its dented wheels. Not to mention the sudden stops that threw her out of her seat.
Hermione folded up her mother's blanket and tried to look out the window as much as possible to avoid feeling nauseous. Stan returned about ten minutes later:
"Ah, you're up!" he exclaimed.
"Did I sleep long?" asked Hermione, a little confused.
"Yeah, a bit. I tried to wake you an hour ago, but you looked like you needed to sleep, no offence."
Hermione shook her head and rubbed her eyelids, which were swollen from fatigue and last night's tears.
"We'll be in London in fifteen minutes, just long enough to drop Mr. Bishop off at his stop." the conductor announced.
"Very well, thank you."
She looked at the road ahead of her. It was a highway. Several Muggle cars were driving alongside the bus, which managed to weave between them at over three hundred kilometers an hour. Stan walked back down as the Knight Bus stopped on a busy Oxford street.
"OXFORD!" he shouted.
Hermione heard the doors open, a suitcase fall to the ground, the doors close again, and then the bus took off again with a "BANG!" Hermione grabbed the armrest mechanically to keep from falling.
"London in five minutes!" warned Stan, so Hermione grabbed her trunk and Crookshanks and walked down the bus's three flights of stairs, not without almost falling off several times. When Stan offered to help her, she politely declined, not wanting her luggage to suffer the same fate as the other passengers.
"LONDON!" Stan announced as the bus finally stopped. "Merry Christmas!"
"Merry Christmas!" Hermione replied as she stepped outside.
Her legs and neck were stiff from traveling. She massaged her shoulder blade as she watched the London around her: travelers hurrying in and out of King's Cross, cars stopped at red lights, passersby with strollers or dogs on leashes. Hermione found it hard to believe that she was in her own city, but not going to see her parents. Or Danny. The thought of having lied to them was unbearable. But she knew it was for a good reason. Ron and Harry needed her.
She walked towards Grimmauld Square, trying to remember the route she'd taken with Arthur in September, and finally found her way back. She arrived at house number 12, invisible to Muggles. She took a deep breath and rang the doorbell.
As soon as the door opened, Hermione was greeted by shrill screams from Sirius's mother's painting. A continuous stream of insults pierced her eardrums and she jumped in surprise.
"Hermione, you're here!" a female voice shouted.
Hermione barely had time to react before a curtain of red hair and surprisingly strong arms wrapped around her. She didn't need to use her eyes to guess who it was; the floral scent that always perfumed Ginny's hair was instantly recognizable. Hermione dropped her trunk and ran to hug her best friend. They had seen each other two days ago, but Hermione felt she had missed Ginny for much longer.
"Oh Ginny, I'm so sorry..." whispered Hermione against her shoulder.
"Sorry for what? It's not your fault." Ginny replied firmly. "Come inside, I don't want anyone to see you on the landing."
Hermione obeyed and entered the house. The musty smell that Hermione had endured all summer took hold of her nostrils and, combined with Mrs. Black's screams, immediately brought a headache to her temples.
"Ah, Hermione, it's you!" chirped Sirius happily as he saw her from down the hall.
He looked very happy. He was wearing an elegant purple shirt, a garland on his shoulder and a big smile.
"Thank you for inviting me for the holidays, Sirius." Hermione said politely.
"Are you kidding? You're always welcome, Hermione!" he said as he walked the few yards between them, royally ignoring his mother who continued to preach horrors. He took her in his arms and Hermione returned the hug. As he drifted back into the kitchen, humming Christmas music, Hermione pulled Ginny down the stairs to ask:
"So how is he?"
"Which one?" asked Ginny ironically.
Hermione frowned:
"Which one? Have there been multiple attacks?"
"No, no." Ginny said, running a hand through her perfectly straightened hair. "Sorry, I haven't slept all night and I'm in a cranky mood. Dad's fine, at least, pretty fine for someone who was bitten by a snake."
"What about Ron? Fred, George? Your mother?"
"It wasn't an easy night, but everyone's fine. We went to St. Mungo's this morning, Dad was fine, but he refused to tell us how he got bitten by a snake."
A shadow of something passed over Ginny's face as she finished her sentence. Hermione didn't have time to decide if it was anger or concern when footsteps sounded in the corridor and Ron suddenly appeared, his face more pale than ever. As soon as he saw Hermione, his features, which had been drawn together in anguish, relaxed and he threw himself on top of her to take her in his arms:
"Oh Mione, thank Merlin, you're here."
A cloud of butterflies flew into her stomach as she heard him say those words with such relief. She wouldn't have been able to tell him how worried she had been about him since the night before, so she tried to convey her support through the strength of her arms around his neck. They remained intertwined for a second or two, and when they broke apart, Hermione noticed Ginny's confused expression beside them.
"Ron, I'm sorry about your father..."
"Thanks, Mione. He's fine, that's the main thing." he said with a pale smile. "I'm so glad you're here."
"Me too. I couldn't wait to find you, I practically begged Dumbledore to bring me here yesterday. Where's Harry?"
She looked over Ron's shoulder, almost expecting to catch a glimpse of black hair and a lightning scar, but there was no one there. As soon as she mentioned his name, Ron regained his sullen look and Ginny her bad mood.
"He's locked up in the attic with Buckbeak. He's refused to come out since we got back from St. Mungo's." she said, her tone clearly disapproving.
"What?" Hermione gasped. "But why?"
"You know he had a vision?" asked Ron. "It was Harry who saw the snake attack Dad. It was thanks to him that we were able to help him in time."
"Yes, I know, Seamus and Neville told me." Hermione said. "But then why is he refusing to come down?"
A door slammed somewhere and Ginny put her finger to her mouth to warn them to be quiet.
"Come on." Ron said in a low voice as he led them up the stairs.
They went to Ron and Harry's room on the second floor. The room was only furnished with an empty painting with a brown canvas, two dusty beds with green sheets and an antique fireplace. Ron sat on Harry's bed and ran his hand over his face: he looked exhausted. When he spoke, he sounded like he was eleven again.
"Earlier, when we went to St. Mungo's to see Dad, Fred and George wanted to listen in on the conversation they were all having behind the door, just to find out what really happened."
Hermione nodded, expecting the worst.
"Moody was there, with Tonks and Mum." he continued, his eyes fixed on the wooden floor. "She said Dumbledore had expected Harry to have a vision like this, that he didn't look very surprised. And Moody said it probably meant that Harry..."
He seemed to be thinking of a way to finish his sentence, but his sister did it for him:
"Moody said You-Know-Who had possessed him."
Hermione frowned further.
"Possessed?" she repeated.
"Yes, and Harry has felt guilty ever since. He's convinced he was the one who attacked Dad last night."
"What?! But that's impossible!" replied Hermione sharply.
"We know that, but Harry is convinced of it and he's refused to speak to us since this morning." Ginny replied exasperatedly.
The door opened and Hermione turned. Mrs. Weasley stood in the doorway, a tray of sandwiches in her hand. Her eyes were puffy and her hair was a mess, but when she saw Hermione, her pale face lit up with a warm smile:
"Oh, I thought I heard your voice, Hermione!" she said, setting the tray down next to Ron.
She hugged her, and the guilt that had been crushing her esophagus since the night before eased a little.
"Thanks for letting me stay here over the holidays, Mrs. Weasley." Hermione said as soon as Ron's mother had moved away from her. "I'm sorry about Mr. Weasley."
"More frightened than hurt, my dear, but thank you, it gives me great pleasure to have you here with us." Mrs. Weasley said, patting her hand in a friendly way. "Your parents aren't too upset about not having you for Christmas?"
"No, they're going skiing." she replied.
"Ah, Arthur's always dreamed of going, and I've always refused! Please don't mention it to him next time we visit him at St. Mungo's, he'll be begging me to take him there in February..." she said with a wink.
Hermione felt a wave of relief at hearing her speak of her husband that way. Everything was back to normal, Arthur wasn't going to die. Mrs. Weasley turned and gave Ron a big pat on the neck as she saw him eating half of the sandwiches:
"Ronald! This isn't for you, it's for Harry!"
Ron choked on his bite and protested:
"But I eat when I'm stressed!"
"Save some for your best friend, he hasn't eaten since Merlin-knows-when and he refuses to come down from the attic."
"I'll get him." Hermione decided.
"Very well." Mrs. Weasley said. "Sirius is decorating the house for Christmas, can you come down later and help him?"
"Yes, Mom." Ginny and Ron replied in unison.
Mrs. Weasley nodded and pointed her wand at the fireplace, creating a fire that immediately warmed the chilly room.
"Wait for me here, I'll get Harry." Hermione said.
Ginny sat down next to Ron and crossed her arms over her chest. Hermione climbed the stairs to the top floor of the house, the coldest of all, and knocked on the attic door:
"Harry?" she called. "I know you're in there. Can I come in?"
She heard footsteps approaching and the door opened. Harry was in the same state as the Weasleys, with bags under his eyes, accentuated by his glasses, and his hair so disheveled that it almost looked like Hermione's after a Potions class in the dungeons.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, obviously surprised to see her. "I thought you went skiing with your parents?"
Hermione stopped herself from throwing herself at Harry to hug him like Ron. She was so happy to see him after all the hours she had spent worrying about him... But she knew that Harry wasn't the touchy-feely type. She knew him by heart, she knew for a fact that he'd taken refuge there to isolate himself and mope.
"To tell you the truth, I don't really like skiing." she replied, the same confession Draco had wrung out of her two days earlier. "So I came here to spend Christmas. But don't tell Ron. I told him skiing was a wonderful sport because he couldn't stop laughing about it. My parents are a little disappointed, but I explained to them that everyone who seriously prepares for their exams stays at Hogwarts to work. And since they want me to succeed, they'll understand. Right, now let's go to your room. Ron's mum has a fire going and she's brought some sandwiches."
To his surprise, Harry followed her. He must have been starving. They went back down to the second floor and entered the room. When he saw Ron and Ginny sitting on the bed, he froze.
"I came on the Knight Bus." Hermione said, trying to diffuse the tension by explaining her arrival so as not to make him uncomfortable. "Dumbledore told me what happened yesterday morning, but I had to wait until the official end of term before I could leave Hogwarts. Umbridge is already furious that you disappeared from under her nose, even though Dumbledore told her that Mr. Weasley was at St. Mungo's and had given you permission to leave. Well, then..." She sat down beside Ginny. "How are you feeling?"
Harry squinted cautiously and looked at the three people in front of him one by one.
"Very well." he lied.
"Don't lie Harry." Hermione retorted. "Ron and Ginny told me you've been hiding from everyone since you came back from St. Mungo's.
"They did, didn't they?" he asked aggressively, glaring at the two in question.
Ron lowered his head, but Ginny lifted her chin in disdain:
"Well, you have!" she snapped. "And you don't even look at us anymore!"
"You're the one who's not looking at me!" said Harry angrily.
"Maybe you take turns looking at each other, but never at the same time." Hermione suggested to lighten the mood.
"Very funny." Harry said dryly and turned away. He stood in front of the broken window and pretended to watch the snow fall.
"Oh, stop feeling so misunderstood." Hermione said. "Listen, the others told me what you heard the other day with the Extendable Ears..."
"Oh yeah?" growled Harry. "So you're all talking about me? I'm getting used to it."
The coldness in his voice was unrecognizable. It reminded him of when he'd yelled at her and Ron in this very room when he hadn't heard from them all summer. This time, however, Ginny didn't give him time to get angry:
"We wanted to talk to you, Harry! But since you've been sneaking around since we got home..."
"I didn't want anyone to talk to me." he claimed, growing increasingly irritated.
"Well, that was a bit stupid of you." Ginny snapped. "The only person you know who's ever been possessed by You-Know-Who is me. I could have told you how it feels."
Harry stood still, struck by Ginny's words. Hermione and Ron cringed at the thought. Harry turned to face them.
"I forgot." he admitted.
Hermione refrained from rolling her eyes. The master of tact himself.
"Lucky you." Ginny retorted vehemently.
"I'm sorry." Harry said sincerely in a much calmer voice. "So... you think I'm possessed, do you?"
"Do you remember everything you did?" asked Ginny. "Do you feel like there are long periods of not knowing what happened?"
Harry looked up at the ceiling and thought.
"No." he said finally.
"Then You-Know-Who never possessed you." Ginny replied simply. "When he did it to me, I couldn't remember what I was doing for hours. I'd find myself somewhere and not know how I got there."
"But when I dreamt of your father and the snake..."
"Harry, you've had dreams like this before." Hermione interrupted. "Last year you sometimes saw what Voldemort was up to."
"This was different. This time I was inside the snake. It was like I was the snake... What if Voldemort had managed to transport me to London?"
"One day, you may decide to read Hogwarts: A History, and then you'll remember that it's impossible to Apparate to Hogwarts, either to get in or out. Not even Voldemort could get you out of your dormitory, Harry."
"You haven't left your bed, mate." Ron assured him. "I saw you tossing and turning in your sleep for at least a minute before we managed to wake you up."
Harry began to pace the room. Without realizing it, he picked up one of the sandwiches and stuffed it into his mouth. Hermione took that as a good sign.
"Harry... You know you don't have to isolate yourself like this if you have a problem." Hermione said in a quiet voice.
Harry stopped, his mouth half full of bread.
"We're here for you." Ron continued with rare sincerity. "We will never judge you. You can tell us anything, okay?"
Harry avoided their gaze and concentrated on eating his piece of sandwich as slowly as possible.
"Yeah, I know... Thanks."
"Well, let's go and help Sirius." said Ginny, rising to her feet. "There's no point dwelling on the bad times. It's Christmas, dammit."
"Miss. Weasley, your language!" snarled Ron and everyone burst out laughing as they left the room.
.
.
Draco
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For the second night in a row, Draco slept very poorly. His sleep was interrupted by nightly awakenings in which he felt compelled to raise his head to check if Blaise was still asleep. The latter had left his curtains open and Draco could make out his silhouette stretched out on the mattress, his blanket half on the floor and his arms stretched out over his head.
As soon as he closed his eyes, Draco could also see Granger's tear streaked face and her watery red eyes imprinted on his eyelids. His dreams were a mixture of Granger's hoarse, panicked screams and Blaise's painful cries. He jerked awake so often that he woke Pansy.
When Draco was finally awakened at an all too early hour by Eris's lick on his cheek, he could barely contain his howl of protest. He pushed the dog away as gently as he could and tried to get back to sleep, but to no avail. Every breath Blaise took set his senses on alert. He couldn't stop thinking about the appearance of his mother's Patronus the day before. If she had sent such a message, there was definitely something to worry about. This wasn't right. What could be wrong with his best friend? He knew nothing about dark magic. Surely, his father would know the answer, but how could he ask him? Hey father, my best friend had a night terror, he calls it a "vision" where he was burned alive, what does that mean?
Draco was already in a bad mood this morning, so when he arrived in the Great Hall and found Granger not sitting at the Gryffindor table, it was the last straw. She could very well have been asleep, considering she'd only fallen asleep a few hours ago, but still, Draco knew she wasn't in the Castle anymore. He had no idea how he knew, whether it was his institution, paranoia, or simply because of her words the night before, but he knew that she was already gone. How and where, he had no idea. Which irritated him to no end.
His theory was confirmed when they arrived at Hogsmeade. The station was shrouded in winter mist, and the shiny red Hogwarts Express was waiting on the tracks. Students were laughing together or boarding the train to meet their parents. Draco didn't recognize Granger's hair. That didn't stop him from looking at every person carrying a cat carrier on the platform, just in case.
Draco and Pansy were forced to help the first years onto the train, prefect duty, although Draco thought that if you needed help to get on a train, you had to be completely stupid. Many of the compartments were empty, and Granger did not occupy any of them. When Draco sat down next to Blaise, Pansy and Theo, he felt the primal urge to kick something, just to vent his frustration.
Apparently, his friends had mutually decided not to talk about what had happened the day before. None of them mentioned Blaise's mother's Patronus. Draco had the impression that this was more out of fear than distraction, because Blaise's mother had always been impressive, and Blaise had the annoying tendency to get angry whenever anyone dared to make a remark about her. Theo and Pansy carefully avoided the subject, which annoyed Draco greatly. He sighed regularly during the ride, almost tempted to join Crabbe and Goyle in the other carriage. As he looked out over the countryside, wondering where Granger might be, Blaise said to him:
"You should get some sleep, Dray. You look terrible."
Draco lifted his head lazily.
"I return the compliment." he said dryly.
Pansy made an indignant sound by clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth. Blaise didn't seem to be offended. On the contrary, Draco could almost see a gleam of amusement in his caramel eyes.
"Someone's in a good mood today." he commented, almost singing. "Would you be so kind as to share your feelings with us?"
Draco was tempted to reply with a scathing, nasty remark, meant to hurt. Something about his "vision", about how crazy he was going, just to get the adrenaline of a retort warming his veins, just to clear away the cloud of dark thoughts that had been fogging his head since he'd arrived at this bench. But he didn't. The bitterness of his mockery burned his tongue and he turned his head to the window with a grunt to avoid answering.
Blaise gave up, and no one spoke to him the rest of the way.
His mother was waiting for him at the station. When he saw her, he Occluded so she wouldn't see the fear gnawing at his features. She took his arm in reunion. There were no Weasleys on the platform, no Weasley mothers taking turns hugging their children, and Draco found himself hoping that this woman wasn't suffering from her husband's grief right now. He shook his head at the thought: he must be really exhausted to wish for such things.
After saying goodbye to his friends, he let his mother lead the way, and they Apparated to the Manor. As soon as they entered the hall, his mother untied her hand from his arm and hurried to the kitchens. Draco knew that at this time of year, with the Christmas Ball approaching, his mother was unavailable. She spent the days leading up to Christmas organizing the party and the days afterward discussing it with each of her friends over tea. Draco rarely saw her during the holidays, which was rather ironic now that he thought about it. Wasn't Christmas supposed to be a time for family reunions?
Leaving his trunk there, he slowly climbed the stairs to his apartments. As he entered, he didn't recognize the room around him. He didn't know any of the books in the library, he had never sat in that chair, he had never seen the painting above his desk. His bed looked like it was made of marble and was not comfortable at all. There was no noise in his room, so much so that he already missed the Hogwarts Express chatter of Pansy, Blaise and Theo. At Hogwarts, he was always surrounded by a constant buzz, whether in the Great Hall, in class, or even in the dormitory. He was constantly lulled to sleep by the voices of his friends. Now, in the searing silence of his room, Draco found himself more alone than ever.
Chubby knocked timidly on the door and Draco invited him in with a faint voice.
"Good evening, Master Draco." the elf greeted, bowing to him. "Where can Chubby put your trunk, sir?"
"There, on the bed." he pointed. "Thank you, Chubby."
"With pleasure, Master Draco." the elf replied. He snapped his fingers and the trunk fell onto the bed. "Your mother asked Chubby to tell you that you will dine with her at seven o'clock sharp."
"Right, good... And, Chubby?"
The elf turned around:
"Yes, Master Draco?"
"Is my father here?" he asked, his heart pounding.
"No. He won't be back until tomorrow, most likely." Chubby replied, obviously also relieved to know that Lucius was gone.
"Very well, thank you."
The elf Apparated and Draco found himself alone. He looked out the window at the falling snow and wondered where Granger could be. It was dangerous to think of her in this house, but Draco couldn't help himself. She'd spent the summer with Sirius Black, was she with him now? On the run? Or was she with the Weasleys? With Ron Weasley?
Draco spent the rest of the evening alone in the Manor library, meditating to strengthen his Occlumency to the point of exhaustion.
.
.
.
.
The days leading up to Christmas were dull and pointless. Draco spent most of his time at Blaise's to avoid his father, only returning for dinner to spend a little time with his mother. She didn't ask him many questions about school, unlike other years. She seemed preoccupied with something, and Draco knew her well enough to know it wasn't just about the ball. In fact, he suspected she was using it as an excuse to think about something else. Maybe she was worried about Lucius going on a mission.
Draco, on the other hand, felt no torment at the thought of his father risking his life somewhere in the service of the most terrifying Dark Wizard of all time. If anything, he was relieved that he wasn't at the Manor most of the time. When Draco met him for the first time since his return from Hogwarts, they only exchanged a few words before Lucius locked himself in his study and didn't come out for the rest of the night.
The preparations for the ball were suffocating, between his mother's howling at poor Chubby and the decorations piling up in every room Draco entered. Whenever he could, he sought refuge at Blaise's house. Blaise hadn't had any new night terrors, although Theo had taken to waiting for him to fall asleep before doing the same, just in case. They hadn't heard from his mother, and Draco was beginning to think it had all been a nightmare. Perhaps Blaise had simply caught a fever from the Hogwarts-wide cold, and Draco had imagined his pupils dilated.
When he couldn't get there, Draco spent his time in the Manor's library. No one bothered him there. He could practice Occlumency as he pleased: he practiced parrying attacks, closing his mental library, and sorting out his memories. From time to time he allowed himself to think of Granger. He remembered their three kisses, struggling to realize that they were from real memories and not the shameful dreams he'd had for years.
On the evening of the 23rd, the eve of the Malfoy Ball, Draco dined in the company of both his parents for the first time since the start of the break. They were all dressed for the occasion, even though there were only three of them, and the table was filled with far too many appetizing dishes. Draco waited for his father to eat first before taking his first bite, and then they ate in stunned silence. It was not until Draco had finished his second plate that his mother spoke:
"Draco, I've bought you a tailor-made suit for the ball tomorrow, made in Paris, to match your father's."
Draco nodded, and seeing the lack of enthusiasm from the two men at the table, Narcissa continued in a calm voice:
"This year's theme is green and red. I've booked the famous fairy orchestra we were lucky enough to hear at that reception in Italy, Lucius, remember?"
Draco's father grunted vaguely in reply.
"This should be the most beautiful ball of the year." his mother added, not speaking to anyone in particular. "It will be all anyone talks about for months."
"I need to see the guest list." Lucius ordered, his voice the opposite of Narcissa's.
"Sure, Chubby can give it to you."
"You didn't invite any half-bloods, I hope?" said Lucius, threateningly. "I warned you that the Dark Lord would not tolerate any dubious bloodlines..."
"I invited only Purebloods, as I do every year, Lucius." his mother cut in coldly, clearly outraged at the thought of him questioning her choices.
"Wh-what? Will He be there?" yelped Draco in horror.
Both his parents turned to him in disbelief:
"Who, Draco?" asked Narcissa.
"The... The Dark Lord?" he asked, unable not to stutter his name.
Narcissa's lips curled into her typical expression of displeasure.
"No, of course not. He's far too busy to be celebrating Christmas."
Draco felt nauseous. He hated it when his parents talked about Him as if He were just another person, as if He weren't the monster that had haunted Draco's nightmares since his return. He ate no more of his meal, waiting until his parents had finished dessert and Lucius had finished his third glass of wine before he asked:
"May I leave the table?"
"Yes. Give my regards to Pansy." his mother said distractedly.
Draco hurried out and welcomed the outside air with pleasure on his skin. He always felt suffocated in this Manor. He didn't know if it was the cold air or the constant tension, but whatever room he was in, he felt trapped. When he went to the fountain, he felt like he was really breathing for the first time all day.
He lay down on the grass and didn't have to wait long before he heard Pansy's muffled footsteps behind him. It hadn't snowed, but the grass was soaked with rain. Pansy lay quietly beside him, watching the stars.
"Your father?" she asked after a few minutes.
"Yes, he was here." Draco said, guessing what she wanted to know. "He didn't say much. He doesn't want any half-bloods at the ball. Shocking, isn't it?"
He skipped the part about the Dark Lord because he didn't want to worry Pansy. She gave a mirthless laugh.
"Very." she replied. "Any news of Blaise?"
"Not really. He refused my mother's invitation on the pretext of spending Christmas with his mother, but he told me he refused to go without Theo."
"Hmm."
It was the first time since they'd known each other that Draco had gone to a Malfoy Christmas Ball without Blaise. Usually, they always found a way to subtly escape to eat sweets in his room or test their presents in the garden. This year, Blaise and Theo would be celebrating alone, while Draco and Pansy would be forced to stay in the middle of the equally boring guests.
Draco looked up at the stars above them and stopped Occluding for the first time since he'd entered this Manor. His thoughts immediately went to Granger, who was lying next to him, just as Pansy was now. He remembered her sobbing voice as she explained who Chiron was and how a compass worked. He remembered her bloodshot eyes and her hands shaking with panic.
The realization struck him.
"You knew, didn't you?" asked Draco in shock.
Pansy turned her head to face him:
"Knew what?"
"You told me to go outside, the day before we left. I told you I was going for a walk and you told me to go outside, to go to the Hogwarts grounds for some fresh air. You knew I'd run into her, didn't you?"
Pansy shrugged:
"Yes."
Draco was surprised by her sincerity; he'd expected her to pretend not to understand.
"But...how..."
"I saw her on my way to walk with Eris. She didn't notice me, but I could see she was... having an anxiety attack or something. I thought you'd probably want to know."
"Why didn't you just tell me she was over there?"
Pansy shrugged a second time:
"I didn't know how much you wanted me to talk about it in front of Theo and Blaise. I don't know how much they... know."
In his panic at having found Granger in that state, he'd forgotten that Blaise and Theo were technically unaware of his feelings for her. It took up so much space in his mind that he had trouble remembering that it wasn't common knowledge.
"And why did you tell me?" asked Draco curiously. "I thought you hated her."
"I don't. I just grew up with the perspective that she was inferior to me." Pansy corrected in a detached tone. "And so were you, for that matter."
"And you changed your mind?" he asked.
"Not really. I don't particularly like her, but it has nothing to do with her blood anymore, it was more her personality. I find her irritating, and I hate the company she keeps. She's often Miss-Know-It-All and she has these... manners that I just can't stand. But... you know. She did save Theo." Pansy finished, as if that negated everything she'd just listed.
"With the Muggle book?"
"Yes. If she hadn't intervened, Theo would have suffered, probably been teased, and he's far too sensitive and fragile for that. It would have destroyed him. I'm grateful to her that she spared my friend from that." she said with blatant honesty.
"Yes... she's like that." Draco said, remembering Granger's unfailing benevolence.
He looked at the moon, hidden by a cloud, and guessed its shape through it.
"So..." muttered Pansy. "Do you love her?"
Draco raised his eyebrows, surprised by the question. Pansy had never asked him that so directly. He didn't dare turn to her and continued to watch the sky, as if his heart wasn't beating against his chest at the mere mention of his love for her.
"Yes." he assured her, unable to deny the obvious. "Yes, I love her."
There was silence. Draco didn't dare turn his head towards Pansy for fear of seeing disgust.
"Have you told her?" she asked.
Draco swallowed. The sun beating down on his cheeks, the ice cream running through his fingers, her eyes wide open, her questions in her high-pitched voice, shouting in a classroom, her tears on his flushed cheeks, her lips against his.
"Yes, I told her." he replied in a small voice.
The sound of the fountain splashing echoed after his confession as Pansy took in this new information.
"And how did she react?" she finally asked without any expression in her voice.
Draco counted the number of stars before his eyes before answering. When he reached twenty, he said:
"She said she loved me too."
Pansy had no audible reaction.
"But I told her we could never be together." he continued, almost embarrassed. "I told her it was risky, that if my father found out... but she wouldn't listen. She's stubborn."
"Did you kiss her?" asked Pansy.
Draco tensed. He didn't know if she was asking him a question or accusing him. He glanced furtively at the Manor, afraid that Lucius might be standing in the doorway. In any case, he would never have been able to hear their whispers, masked by the sound of the fountain. He was tempted to Occlude again.
"Are you sure you want to talk about this?" he asked.
"Draco, look at me."
He did. When he turned his head on the cold grass, he expected to see tears, but saw only his best friend's coal-black eyes, and even a small smile at the corner of her black lips.
"I told you, it hurts less." she promised in a calm voice. "Now that I'm not in love with you anymore, it's not as painful as it used to be. And besides, it's obviously not a fleeting crush, you seem to be really in love with this girl. Totally obsessed with her, in fact."
Draco could only agree.
"You're my best friend, I want to know these things." Pansy said firmly. "If you're happy, then I'm happy."
Draco felt a wave of love for the girl next to him. Not the same love he felt in Granger's presence. It was different, it always had been, but it was no less intense, he felt connected to her in a unique way. It was impossible to describe. He looked into her dark eyes and found the comfort he always felt in her presence.
"Thank you, Pans'." he said, and it was probably the most sincere thank you he'd ever said in his life.
"Well?" she insisted. "Did you kiss her?"
"Yes. Three times." he confessed.
Pansy burst out laughing:
"Merlin, Draco Malfoy, are you really blushing?"
"It's the cold." he said, hiding his smile.
"Liar." she sneered. "How was it?"
Draco was flooded with memories, from a tense kiss, to a pleading kiss, to a kiss of shared love. He could not decide which of the three had shaken him the most.
"It was... incredible." he said, because no words in his language could truly describe the whirlwind of sensations he'd experienced in those moments. Kissing Granger was like drinking Amortentia, it was intoxicating, addictive. He was convinced that now that he'd kissed her, he would be physically unable to live without it.
Pansy smiled tenderly and turned her head away to look at the stars.
"You're the only person I told." Draco confessed. "And you're the only person I ever wanted to tell."
"Really?"
"Really." he promised.
Pansy grinned at him and Draco felt a huge weight lifted from his shoulders, one that had nothing to do with Occlumency. For the first time since he'd realized he was in love with Granger, someone approved of him. Pansy approved of him. It wasn't a sin, it wasn't a curse, it was a good thing. Strangely, he felt calmed, almost at peace, despite his confession, which sometimes frightened him himself.
"You deserve to be happy, Draco." Pansy said, her eyes still fixed on the sky.
"So do you, Pans."
"We all deserve to be happy." she corrected.
Draco felt Pansy's little finger slip under his and squeeze.
A silent promise.