A.N : Hi everyone! Thank you so much for reading! Don't worry—though it may seem like they've completely broken up, love is on the way! Romance will return and grow stronger than ever! So, please stay tuned—there's so much more to come!
Oh yes, I said it.
I forced a laugh. Everyone else was snorting, jeering, reveling in Weasley's humiliation. That was supposed to be funny. But her face—twisted in pain—was not. I caught a glimpse of her eyes, and for a fleeting second, I swore I saw something glistening inside them. Tears. If Weasley had hexed me right then, I wouldn't have blamed him. I would have let him. Maybe I would have deserved it.
Now, she will hate me more than ever. Forever.
She will believe every word I've ever spoken was a lie. She will never look at me again—never truly see me. Never again.
She will only cast me that same look of disdain she has worn since our first year.
And that, I told myself, was exactly what I wanted.
Wasn't it?
I had to stay away. I should never have let myself get this close in the first place. Never let myself hesitate. Never let my resolve slip.
Now, she will never speak to me again. Which is good.
Now, I may never heal.
Not just the wound on my side.
I could feel my heart tearing, splitting apart, ripped between the weight of my thoughts and the ache of something else. A war inside my chest. A rope tightening around my ribs, squeezing everything I shouldn't feel out of me.
But why do I even care?
Granger is nothing to me. Just another one of Potter's little followers. Just another Mudblood. I shouldn't care. I shouldn't feel anything at all.
I should be glad she won't come near me ever again.
And yet—
And yet, I never knew my heart could hurt like an open wound.
I was going to forget about Malfoy.
Completely.
Hermione flipped through her Potions book furiously during class, her eyes scanning the words without absorbing a single one. Hagrid was right—it was a waste of time to care about the cruel things he said. She must have been under some kind of spell to let them get to her.
She had Ron and Harry. No one else had any right to meddle in her Hogwarts life.
She spent the entire afternoon seething.
Not at him.
At herself.
How foolish—trusting so easily, believing even for a second that he could be anything other than what he was. She had to let go. She had to say goodbye to the part of her that had ever wavered.
When the excruciatingly boring class finally ended, she marched straight to the Slytherin trio's desk. Without a word, she dropped the green tie onto Malfoy's foot.
He looked up, but not at her. His gaze landed somewhere past her shoulder, as if she were nothing but air.
She sighed sharply. He didn't move.
"Just take it, stupid," she sneered, her voice rougher than she intended.
His eyes flickered to hers for the first time, his expression unreadable.
"Do I have to say it again," he drawled, "or would you rather I shut up?"
Then his gaze sharpened. "Or do you need a reminder of who you are—"
She shot him a look of pure loathing, then without breaking eye contact, she stepped on the tie—crushing it under her heel—before spinning around and marching back to her desk.
She hadn't planned to do that. But she had to prove it—to him, to herself—that she was back to the Hermione Granger who detested that arrogant, cruel, infuriating blonde boy.
And now that she had done it… she should have felt lighter.
She should have felt free.
But the weight on her chest hadn't lifted at all.
"Why did you have the—" Harry started as she dropped into her seat.
"Just a fight," she said flatly.
"Just as usual."
When I returned to the dormitory, an owl was waiting for me.
It sat silently on my bed, its dark eyes unblinking. A single letter lay beneath its talons—a black envelope.
My breath hitched.
I bit my lip, forcing my hands to stay steady as I reached for it. My fingers felt cold, almost frozen. Slowly, I turned the envelope over. As expected, there it was—an M, a serpent coiled around it.
I sank onto the bed without a word.
With practiced precision, I traced an X over the seal. The envelope parted soundlessly, and a sheet of parchment slid out, the ink black as shadows.
Dear Draco,
I am deeply concerned that you have failed to owl me as instructed. I am beginning to question whether you have learned obedience at all.
I told you, my son, to write. You did not. I ordered you to report everything. You remained silent. Is this defiance?
This year is ours. The Weasleys may be too cowardly to return in full, and soon, Hogwarts will be cleansed of the filth that plagues it. Speaking of filth—how is the Mudblood?
The one who dared to address me so insolently at Diagon Alley—Granger, was it?
This is her last year as well.
That is a treat for you.
Now, my boy, promise me one thing. Loyalty. Always.
Never disgrace the name.
Lucius
Draco exhaled sharply.
It was just a letter. Nothing more. He wasn't going to be punished.
The parchment folded itself neatly, vanishing into nothing. Yet his mind wouldn't let go of it.
This is her last year as well.
What did he mean?
It had to be a joke. Right?
Had he misheard the plan? His father had spoken mostly about—who was it? Ginny Weasley?—but the Mudblood part…
Draco bit his lip harder.
This wasn't about hurting her.
It was something else entirely.
It was about dying.
Or not.
She was terrified.
Something wasn't right.
"Harry, can you tell me what exactly you heard during detention with Lockhart?"
Harry hesitated, his eyes wide.
"A whisper. Hissing. Almost like a snake, you know? And... and—"
He stopped, gasping for breath. He looked panicked. Well, of course, he would.
"Bloody spooky. What did it say?" Ron asked, his voice shaky.
"I— I don't know. It was so short I could barely... Oh, and Lockhart didn't hear it— and—"
"Of course," Ron said, raising an eyebrow. "Lockhart, of all people. He wouldn't hear a thing."
Suddenly, Harry gasped, his eyes darting around. He started walking, muttering to himself.
"Are you okay?" Hermione asked, her voice full of concern.
"I heard it! I mean—come on, you guys—"
"What are you talking about?" Ron asked, narrowing his eyes.
"You hear it, right? The hissing—" Harry nearly shouted, his frustration building.
"No," Hermione replied calmly. "We can't."
Harry exhaled in frustration, a defeated sigh escaping him as he turned away. He started walking again, probably following the sound of—whatever it was.
"It stopped," Harry said, his hands reaching out to touch the smooth wall of the corridor. Ron stood there, frozen, unsure of what to do. Hermione, however, scanned the area—and her eyes widened in shock. She couldn't find the words.
"Harry," her voice cracked, barely more than a hoarse whisper as she forced the word out.
There, written in red letters that almost looked like blood, was a message.
"What the—?" Harry muttered, rushing toward the wall. Hermione followed, and Ron came a bit later, still too horrified to move.
She read it aloud, her voice trembling.
"The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir, beware."
The echo of distant footsteps reached their ears.
You're probably familiar with this scene, aren't you? Now, please stay tuned!