Chapter 3
“How did we get here?”
The question echoes alongside her blood through the chambers of her heart. She feels the question run along the length of her bones, leaving a thick groove in its wake. Her muscles ache as the question squeezes through tissue and lodges itself as a lump in her throat.
How did we get here?
Surely, you remember.
We searched and we found and we lost; though we were never quite sure what we held.
How did we get here?
We fought and we conquered and we surrendered; from the very beginning of everything to the shattering of worlds.
How did we get here?
We got here by accident, but also completely and unapologetically on purpose.
We got here with love and with hate, with loyalty to the right and wrong people.
How did we get here?
We chose to be here, love. But then, we never had a choice at all, did we?
—
Year Three
Hermione glared at Draco in the reflection of the cabinet. When she was sure that their eyes were boring a hole through the glass, she lowered her gaze to the lock in her hand and snapped it shut. She took three deep breaths in an attempt to calm herself before turning on her heel to face him.
“I think the better question is how did you get here, Malfoy?” She kept her wand gripped tight in her right hand as she levelled her gaze at his face. “What were you thinking? You could have gotten seriously hurt!”
He scoffed and rolled his eyes in return, waving his wand to clear the glitter from himself and the floor. She had to stifle a laugh at the picture of him— Hogwart’s fiercest bully— with a face full of children’s craft material. Did wizards even have glitter? She wasn’t sure. She was truly just glad to have been able to visualize anything when casting the spell, given the fearsome figure standing opposite Malfoy when she walked in. Apparently, glitter was the first thing that came to mind.
“I was just about to say the spell before you interrupted, Granger.” He muttered, his arms continuing to hang loose at his side. “Gods, if you could just mind your own business-”
“Mind my own business?” She shouted as loud as she dared with the door cracked open. She glanced towards it before turning back to him with a lower, but stricter tone, “Oh, sure, Malfoy. And when would it have been my business? After the boggart killed you? When it attacked me in the halls? Maybe when it was loose in the castle feeding on first years? When exactly would you have liked me to intervene?”
“I had it under control.”
“Oh, did you?” Hermione scoffed as she crossed her arms across her chest, “I apologise, that wasn’t entirely evident in the way it almost murdered you where you stood!”
He went to open his mouth with a rebuttal but froze. His mouth hung open slightly as one hand rushed to his forehead and the other flew behind him, searching for stability. He grabbed a nearby table and slid down to the floor. Hermione noticed at that moment how ashen his face had been, and how the hand against his brow trembled. She had seen this before: first, when Ron was hit during their human-sized wizard's chest, and then when Harry finally told her what happened in the Chamber of Secrets.
“You’re in shock.” She said, sinking down to the floor and coming to rest sitting on her heels. “You need to–”
“Shut up.” He snapped, ducking his head between his knees.
She did, though she couldn’t help but roll her eyes at him. She didn’t relish in taking commands from him, but she also couldn’t think of anything meaningful to say. She thought back to moments in her own life when fear had overtaken her and tried to recall anything helpful. When that didn’t work, she thought of how she had helped Ron and Harry in those previous moments. While she thought, she began to exaggerate her own breathing, hoping that he would hear and mimic her pace and depth. Eventually, he took the bait, keeping his head bowed but evening out his breathing over time. On a particularly large inhale, he lifted his head and rolled it backwards, leaning it against the table.
“I’m fine.” He grumbled.
“If you say so,” She muttered back, sitting deeper into her heels and crossing her arms.
“What are you even doing here, Granger?” He asked, “Out past curfew, sneaking around the castle? You don’t seem the type.”
She held back a scoff. That must have been a sign that the shock had passed, right? The fact that he had returned to ridicule? That didn’t take long.
“Now who should mind their own business?” She grinned at him, somewhat relieved that the awkward moment of vulnerability had passed. Thinking of witty responses to his insults felt much more familiar than brainstorming ways to calm his breathing.
“That’s fair, I suppose.” He ran his hands down his shins to the floor, releasing another sigh. They sat in silence for a moment until he spoke again, “I’m not thanking you, if that’s what you’re waiting for.”
“Of course, you’re not.” Hermione rolled her eyes, “Why would you thank me for saving your life?”
“I told you, I was about to say the spell.”
“Be serious, Malfoy.”
“I am being serious,” he shrugged, lifting his wand to turn it over and observe it. It was almost pathetic how desperately he was trying to play nonchalant, “It just caught me off guard, is all.”
“You released the thing!” She laughed aloud, glancing nervously at the open door when she did so. He let out a small laugh, as well, seemingly relenting.
After another moment of silence, Hermione looked over at him, risking a genuine question to abate her curiosity. “Is it really that important to you? Beating the boggart?”
“So what if it was?” He pushed himself up to stand, brushing off as he did, but not offering her a hand. Good, that also felt familiar.
She rose herself, dusting off in turn before continuing. “Was it worth it?”
“Well, I was rather unsuccessful, so I suppose not.” He shot back.
His guard was up, as it always was, but he wasn’t being cruel. He was upset, embarrassed maybe, but he wasn’t taking that anger out on her. She was quiet for a moment, debating her next question.
“The man,” she said hesitantly, “He looked like— I mean, was he—”
“Don’t, Granger.” He put his palm up, stopping her. She tried not to look offended as she snapped her mouth closed. “Don’t ask.”
Hermione debated pushing– after all, what did she have to lose– but instead she nodded and turned around, walking in the opposite direction. She grabbed the stack of books she had been carrying from a nearby desk, resigned to head back to the common room. She hadn’t noticed him walk up behind her and peek over her shoulder until she heard his voice next to her head, “Doing a little light reading?”
She went to flip the top book of the stack upside down, but she wasn’t quite fast enough. He reached around her and grabbed it from her hand, “Why are you reading about werewolves? That assignment was due weeks ago.” She turned to face him, trying to grab the book back before he could investigate further, “Well, well, now we know why she sneaks around the castle at night! Stealing from the restricted section, Granger? I’m shocked!”
“I thought we were minding our own business?” She snatched the book back from his grasp as he looked at her with incredulous humor dancing in his eyes. She should have let the boggart kill him.
“Well, we were, but now, I mean… Come on, this is really something! Who knew you had it in you? This could lose you loads of house points. This could get you-” he gasped dramatically before continuing in a whisper, “expelled!”
“Of course it can’t,” she narrowed her eyes at him, “you can’t so much as mention this without also exposing yourself, and releasing a boggart is surely worse than doing some rogue studying. You would get us both expelled.”
“Ah, you’re right.” He snapped his fingers in front of home in an exaggerated fashion.
He tilted his head back and forth as if he were weighing multiple options. “At least, you would be,” he ducked his head down to speak directly into her face, “if one of us wasn’t a Malfoy.”
She wacked his shoulder with the book in her hands.
“Ow! Be careful with that thing, you’ll surely have to return it at some point. I’m only joking, Granger. Your secret’s safe with me.” She couldn’t help the relief that washed over her, though it was quickly followed by a wave of fear at being indebted to Malfoy. “And am I safe to assume that mine is safe with you, as well?”
He glanced nervously over at the boggart cabinet before returning his eyes to hers.
She glanced at the cabinet as well, mulling the events of the night over in her head. Would she tell on him? His actions were reckless and irresponsible, but no one was hurt, and besides, now that he knew about her stealing the werewolf texts, there wasn’t much of a choice. If he turned her in, she wouldn’t be able to prove her theory about Lupin. She wouldn’t be able to protect Harry. He was right, afterall: it was his word against hers, and he was a Malfoy.
Eventually, she nodded up at him once.
“Well, look at us,” he smirked, “the most unlikely of co-conspirators.”
“Right.” Hermione took a small step back and began turning toward the door, “Unlikely co-conspirators.”
She almost turned around but stopped, looking back at him sternly.
“Are you going to do this again? Try to beat it on your own?”
“Goodnight, Granger.”
A discomforting response for several reasons.
In the future, Hermione would look back on this moment and wonder what had come over her. She would play this night on a loop behind her eyelids and try to trace the path from when she noticed the classroom door ajar to when she exited it again. Maybe seeing her childhood bully in that state, seeing him frozen in fear then reeling from shock, was too much for her. Maybe it broke something in her, or revealed something in him. Maybe she fell for the extra charm he employed to keep himself out of trouble. Maybe she feared for what his recklessness would unleash in the castle.
In the end, she wouldn’t find a reason for her next statement, other than it felt like the right thing to do. She paused her steps halfway down the classroom’s center aisle, standing midway between Draco and the door. She stopped and turned around.
“Malfoy,” she got his attention, “Meet me here next week. Same time.”
“What?” He looked up from the spot on the floor he’d been observing “Why on Earth-”
“Shut up.” She mimicked his tone from earlier, “You froze, with the boggart. You can deny it all you want, but that’s what happened. I saw it.” Even from across the room she could see his jaw clench at the reality of her words.
“If you want to do this, if it’s truly that important to you, I’ll meet you here next week. You can go again. You can fight the boggart without risking the lives of everyone in the castle. Well, risking them less, at least.”
“And if it’s not that important to me?” He stood tall, attempting to hide behind his pride.
“Then don’t come.”
She turned back and kept walking. As she reached the door, she turned around once more.
“I’ll help you, Malfoy.” She lit the end of her wand dimly, preparing for the walk back to the common room, “I’ll help you beat him.”