Chapter 9
Hermione
The week in mid-October ushered in a wave of changes; the warm autumn air gave way to the crisp chill of true fall, driving more and more students indoors. To Hermione’s annoyance, the library was suddenly more crowded than usual, the upcoming exams looming over everyone’s heads. That was how Hermione found herself wandering the familiar room at five o’clock on a Thursday, unable to find a single unoccupied table. Huffing in irritation, she was about to give up and head back to her common room when a voice called out her name. Turning to find the source, she found herself facing Draco Malfoy, who was sitting at a table with Blaise Zabini.
Attempting to keep her expression pleasant, Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Yes, Malfoy?”
He was leaning back into the chair, arm resting casually against the back. “Are you looking for a table?”
Hermione knew her confusion must have shown on her face, and she noticed Zabini wore a similar expression. “Erm, yes, but it’s fine. I was about to head back to my room–” she began.
“Nonsense. There’s plenty of room here,” Malfoy said, gesturing to the three vacant seats at their table. “Join us. We won’t bite, right Zabini?” He asked, glancing at his companion.
Zabini gave his friend an unreadable look before turning back to Hermione. “Of course not. Feel free,” he said.
Unsure how to respond, Hermione begrudgingly accepted the chair, setting her stack of books on the table. She hoped they’d be able to sit in silence and she could actually get some work done, but judging by the curious glint in Malfoy’s eyes, she felt the odds were rather slim. Regardless, she went through the motions of pulling out her notes and spreading out her books, preparing to continue working on her essay for Transfiguration.
“Whatcha working on, Granger?” Malfoy’s voice asked, breaking her short stint of concentration.
She sighed. “Transfiguration. What about you?”
“Potions homework,” he said, gesturing to the parchment in front of him. Hermione nodded, hoping that would be the end of the conversation.
“How’s your–” Malfoy began, but he paused as his eyes slid behind Hermione’s head, distracted by something else.
Turning around, Hermione cringed at the sight of the Patil twins as they passed by, making no attempt at subtlety as they eyed Hermione and her companions in thinly-veiled disdain. Parvati turned to whisper something in Padma’s ear as they passed, and Padma’s jaw dropped as her eyes darted between Hermione and Malfoy. She opened her mouth to say something to the twins, to clarify the situation, but then quickly closed it, filled with righteous indignation. Since when did she owe anyone an explanation about who she sat with in the library? And why was everyone so bloody concerned about it?
Malfoy was watching her with amusement. “Something you’d like to say, Granger?” He asked.
Hermione shot him a look before shaking her head. “Just anticipating the rumours those two are probably off to spread about me as we speak,” she muttered in irritation.
Malfoy snorted. “Please, Granger. If they have anything to say about you, it’ll be that your bleeding heart couldn’t resist taking on a new pity-project with two disenchanted Slytherins. We both know what they say about the two of us will be far more damning.”
Hermione studied him, narrowing her eyes. “I think you’re underestimating how much those two love to gossip. Who do you think convinced everyone I was sleeping with both Harry and Ron during sixth year?”
Zabini snorted, finally breaking his silence. “That was a good one. The Golden Threesome,” he chuckled.
Hermione shot him a look, but before she could utter a retort, she was surprised to hear Draco jump to her defense. “Easy, Zabini. I seem to remember you taking a particular interest in that rumour. Any specific reason for that– something you’d like to share?”
To Zabini’s credit, he didn’t even flinch at Malfoy’s quip. “Who could blame me? You’re telling me I’m the only one who found the image strangely arousing?” He wiggled his eyebrows at Hermione suggestively.
Hermione made a gagging noise in response. “In your dreams, Zabini. Bugger off,” she said, but she had to stifle a giggle.
“As you wish, Golden Girl,” Blaise said, standing and giving Hermione an exaggerated bow.
As he began to gather his things, Hermione frowned. “You don’t actually have to– I wasn’t being serious,” she said.
Zabini chuckled. “It’s fine, I was getting ready to head out anyways. Happy studying. I’ll see you around, Granger,” he said, giving her a friendly nod.
“See you around,” she echoed. What an odd school year this is turning out to be, she thought to herself.
Malfoy broke the silence once again. “Sorry about him. Poor bloke never really grew out of the prepubescent boy phase,” he said, shaking his head in mock despair.
Hermione laughed. “It’s fine. I don’t mind it, actually.” He cocked a brow at her as she continued. “I lived with two boys in a tent for a year, remember? You’d be surprised what I’ve been forced to grow accustomed to.”
Malfoy snorted in response and turned back to his books. Finally, some peace and quiet, Hermione thought. She resumed working on her essay, grateful to be able to make some headway on it at last. After working in surprisingly relaxed silence for about thirty minutes, Hermione’s eye caught the glow of her pen pal notebook in her bag. She hesitated before reaching for it, hoping Malfoy was too immersed in his work to pay her any mind. It had been a busy day, and Hermione hadn’t even had a chance to read the prompt, let alone Mystery’s answer yet.
What does the word ‘trust’ mean to you? Do you find it easy or difficult to trust others?
I suppose trust means having the confidence that someone won’t let you down, that they have your best interest at heart. It’s rather fragile, I think. I’ll admit that I don’t find it easy to trust people– in fact, I can count on one hand the amount of people I trust. I know that’s cynical. Would you find it strange if I told you that you’re among that small number?
Hermione frowned slightly, but was unsurprised to hear that Mystery found it difficult to trust others. After all, he’d been let down by the very person he should’ve been able to trust the most– his father. Her heart fluttered at his confession, feeling rather special to have earned his trust.
I agree that trust is about knowing someone won’t let you down, but to me, it’s also about believing in someone, even when you don’t have all the answers. It’s about feeling secure enough to be vulnerable. I find it hard sometimes, of course– I think most people do. Especially when people I care about make mistakes or hurt me somehow. But I try to remind myself that everyone has flaws, including me. And just because someone’s made a mistake doesn’t mean they can’t be trusted again, as long as they show they’ve learned from it.
And no, I don’t find it strange. I feel lucky to be someone you trust, Mystery. I trust you too.
For some reason, Hermione found herself thinking of Malfoy as she answered the question. Did she trust Malfoy? Probably not, she thought, but she obviously trusted him enough to sit beside him in the library, to let her guard down enough to not assume his intentions were anything but genuine. She had believed him when he told her he was trying to become a better person, she realized. Hermione certainly wouldn’t consider them friends, but being friendly acquaintances was quite a step up from the relationship they’d had for the better part of seven years. She realized with dismay that he was watching her now, unable to read the words in her notebook, but obviously aware of what she was doing.
She glared at him. “Mind your own work, would you, Malfoy?”
Malfoy smirked at her once again. “Relax, Granger. I have no interest in reading the soppy drivel you two are exchanging. Give your special friend my regards, would you?”
Hermione felt her heartbeat quicken. Obviously, she knew Malfoy and her pen pal were at the very least, acquainted, and of course she had quite the hunch about Mystery’s identity, but to hear their relationship acknowledged aloud made her incredibly nervous for some reason.
“Is he– do you know–” she stammered pathetically. “Oh, shove it, Malfoy,” she said at last, scowling at the Slytherin across from her.
He seemed to be enjoying her flustered display. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Hermione Granger lose her composure like that. Quite hilarious– you sound just like him. Gods, the pair of you are truly insufferable," he said, and she glanced at him curiously. "Yes, I know who your pen pal is. No, I will not tell you who it is,” he said sternly.
Hermione’s face turned scarlet. “I wasn’t asking you to–”
Malfoy rolled his eyes at her. “Sure you weren’t. I’d bet you’ll find out soon enough, if you haven’t already.” He glanced up at the clock. “I’d better head to dinner. Are you headed that way too?”
She stared at him. She supposed there was no reason for her to lie; she did need to go to dinner. “Erm, yes, just give me a minute,” she said, gathering up her books, ignoring the looks Lavender Brown and Padma Patil were now tossing at her as they passed by. Were the three of those girls on some sort of unofficial gossip patrol she didn’t know about?
“Here, I can carry those,” Malfoy said, reaching for the extra books Hermione had checked out. She looked at him strangely, but found herself accepting, as she knew they wouldn’t fit in her bag.
As they made their way to the Great Hall, Hermione was struck by the absurdity of the situation– never in a million years would fifteen-year-old Hermione believe that she’d ever willingly walk next to Draco Malfoy, let alone share a table with him in the library. Before she could stop herself, she let out a giggle.
Malfoy turned to her, eyes narrowed slightly. “What’s so funny, Granger?”
“Nothing,” she said, but unable to stifle her laughter anymore, she said “it’s just so bizarre, all of this.”
“What’s bizarre?” He asked, puzzled, as they slowly approached the Great Hall.
“Just the fact that we’re actually getting along– at least somewhat. The fact that I just spent my Thursday evening with Draco Malfoy,” she could feel the tears of laughter gathering in her eyes.
To her shock, Malfoy let out a laugh as well. “It is rather absurd, yes. Not to mention that I’m the only one in the whole bloody school who knows exactly who it is you fancy.” She rolled her eyes at him, but he continued, his face turning more solemn. “You do fancy him, right? You’re not just playing games?”
Hermione paused at the entrance, tilting her head at him. “Not that I particularly want to admit it to you, of all people, but of course I’m not playing games. I would never do that.”
He gave her a nod of approval. “I really hope not. Because this is– I shouldn’t even be saying anything, but this is very real to him– your pen pal. Please be mindful of that, alright?”
Hermione found herself touched by Malfoy’s concern for his friend. Impulsively, she reached out and gave him a quick, friendly pat on the shoulder. He looked slightly shocked, but didn’t react.
“Thanks, Malfoy. You’re a good friend– er, to him, I mean,” she said, turning to head to the Gryffindor table.
“Granger! Your books,” he said, and she snatched them with a quick ‘thank you’ as she began to walk away.
To Hermione’s mortification, she found what felt to be a million pairs of eyes on her, and she realized with a groan that practically the entire school had just watched her interaction with Malfoy. Swallowing her pride and trying to convince herself she didn’t care, she squeezed onto the bench between Harry and Ron. She began to fill her plate, purposefully ignoring her best friends’ insistent stares. Before she could take a bite, Harry leaned into her ear.
“Care to tell us what the fuck that was about?” He asked.
Hermione rolled her eyes at him. “Gods, can everyone just relax? It was just a conversation!”
Harry cringed. “It looked like more than just a conversation. ‘Mione, do you fancy Malfoy? You can tell me if you–”
Hermione’s jaw dropped. “Absolutely NOT! Why on Earth would you say that?”
Ron was fixing her with an angry stare. “You were laughing like the man was a bloody comedian, Hermione! You were blushing like a schoolgirl, and then you grabbed his arm all flirty–”
“Not to mention what we heard from Seamus earlier,” Harry said nervously.
Hermione groaned. “You two have truly lost the plot. There is absolutely nothing going on between me and Draco Malfoy! What did Seamus tell you? Do I even want to know?”
“Probably not,” Harry said, but Ron answered anyway.
“Only that you were cozying up to two Slytherins in the library all evening. Oh, and that people saw you falling all over Malfoy when he pulled out your chair for you and carried your books like the perfect gentleman he is,” Ron said sarcastically, eyes narrowed.
“Bloody Hell,” Hermione moaned, dropping her face into her hands. “You two know me better than that. There was nowhere to sit, and Malfoy offered up his table. He’s been decent lately, you know. He told me he planned to apologize to the two of you!” She said, loud enough for the others sitting close to her to hear.
Harry and Ron exchanged a look as she continued on her tirade. “Is it against some sort of unspoken law for me to sit with a Slytherin? He carried my books because they were HEAVY!” She snapped, turning to glare directly at Lavender and Parvati, whose eyes widened in surprise.
Harry put an arm around her shoulders. “Relax, ‘Mione, we believe you. Don’t we, Ron?” The redhead let out a particularly caveman-like grunt in response. “We were just concerned for you, that’s all. Ignore the rumours,” Harry said gently, and she looked at him gratefully.
“Thank you, Harry,” she said, glaring at Ron. “Now can we please just have a normal meal and talk about something other than our former nemesis? I don’t know about you, but I’m positively famished,” she said, taking a bite of her Shepherd's Pie.
“Sorry, did you say former nemesis?” Ron gritted out, but Hermione ignored him.
Finally relaxing a bit, she allowed her eyes to travel around the room, pretending to be oblivious to the curious stares that were still coming her way. When she landed on the Slytherin table, she saw Malfoy saying something in Nott’s ear, and watched in confusion as the brunette shook his friend’s arm off. Malfoy raised his hands in what appeared to be a gesture of surrender, but Nott fixed him with a burning glare before rising to leave the room, his plate only half-eaten. Interesting, Hermione thought as she puzzled over the interaction.
Could it possibly have something to do with her? The notion made her feel rather silly, but she had to admit it had her curious. Privately, she had wondered if Nott might have some kind of crush on her, but she could never tell if he was just shy and nervous with everyone or if it was indicative of something more. Although she wasn’t ready to admit it to anyone yet, she found herself thinking about the green-eyed Slytherin more often than she’d like to– their study date earlier that week had brought out a side of her she’d never seen before. Perhaps goaded by his hesitancy and rather adorable earnesty, she’d let herself be more bold than usual, flirting unashamedly with him. And she had to admit, the conversation had been one of the most intellectually stimulating she’d ever had. They’d made plans to study again the following week, and Hermione found herself looking forward to it.
After arriving back in her room, Hermione frowned when she pulled out her journal and found that it wasn’t glowing. It was unlike Mystery to leave her hanging, and she was surprised by the way it upset her a bit. Deciding there was nothing wrong with giving him a nudge, she opened her journal and scribbled another message under her last one.
Everything alright, Mystery? I’ve missed talking to you today.
His response appeared quickly, and it made her frown.
Everything’s fine. Sorry. Busy day.
Hermione felt a knot in her stomach. Had she done something wrong?
Did I do something to upset you? I’m sorry if I did…
Of course not. Like I said, just a busy day, and I’m feeling rather tired. Can we just talk tomorrow please?
Hermione wanted to cry. Mystery was definitely upset about something. Perhaps he’d heard the rumours about her and Malfoy as well? She wished she could reassure him that they were purely falsehood, but they would mean acknowledging that they existed in the first place. Sighing as she closed her notebook, she carried on with her bedtime routine. After showering and changing into her comfiest pyjamas, Hermione curled up under the covers, finally allowing the tears to flow as she drifted off to sleep.
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Today was Friday, which was Hermione’s favorite day of the week. Unfortunately, her good mood was diminished by the ever-present whispers that seemed to follow her down the corridors. On her way to Charms, she spotted Malfoy heading the other direction, and before she could think better of it, she stopped and yanked him into the nearest alcove.
“Granger! What do you think you’re–” he hissed.
“People think I fancy you,” she blurted out, groaning at the mere suggestion.
He sighed. “Yes, I’m aware, unfortunately.”
“What do we do?” She asked helplessly.
“Fuck if I know, Granger! I suppose avoiding each other would be the best choice,” Malfoy said grimly.
Just as she was about to respond, the sound of oncoming footsteps jerked her attention towards the hallway in front of her. Theodore Nott stood there, eyes darting from Hermione to Malfoy. He shook his head just slightly, and before either of them could say a word, he turned on his heel and left.
“Fucking fantastic,” Draco spat. Before Hermione could ask him to explain, the bell rang.
“I’ve got to get to class,” she said, hurrying away from the confused Slytherin next to her.
As Professor Flitwick had instructed, she and Nott had begun practicing silent dueling. After one of Hermione’s non-verbal spells had nearly hit Michael Corner on Wednesday, Flitwick had suggested they use the empty classroom down the hall to practice for the next few classes. So, after a quick warm-up in the classroom with everyone else, Hermione found herself alone in a room with Nott. As they assumed their positions across from each other, Hermione couldn’t help but notice he was avoiding her gaze.
Lowering her wand, she stepped closer to him until they were face-to-face. “Is everything okay, Nott?”
He still wasn’t looking at her, his eyes glued to the cobblestone floor below him. “Yes. Why do you ask?”
She sighed, realizing she was going to have to drag it out of him. “You just seem… different. Why won’t you look at me?”
Hermione saw him flinch, but he still wouldn’t look at her. “No reason. Shouldn’t we get back to practicing–”
“Is this about Malfoy?” She said, covering her mouth in surprise that the words had actually come out.
Now he glanced up at her, running his hand through his hair. “No. What does he have to do with anything?” His words didn’t sound angry, but she could see the hurt in his eyes.
“Nothing. He has nothing to do with anything,” she muttered, and he looked at her in confusion. “I sat with him in the library because there was nowhere else to sit, and then we walked to dinner together. I wouldn’t even call us friends, but thanks to a couple of gossiping bints, the entire school thinks we’re an item.”
Nott cocked his head slightly. “So it’s not– you don’t fancy Draco?”
Hermione gaped at him, barely suppressing a shudder. “Never in a million years. Gods, I’m feeling slightly ill just thinking about it,” she said, only half-kidding.
Nott let out a surprised laugh and looked at her in bewilderment. “I see. I’m really sorry, Granger– I shouldn’t have assumed. Not that it matters what I think– er, you can fancy anyone you want, obviously,” he fumbled.
Hermione smiled at him, feeling for some reason like a weight had been lifted off her chest. Against her better judgement, she reached for his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Once again, he flinched at her touch, and there was that heartbreakingly vulnerable look in his eyes. For reasons she couldn’t explain, she impulsively pressed up onto her tip toes and planted a small kiss on his cheek, pausing for half a second afterwards to breathe in his scent. He smelled so good that she nearly grabbed him by the collar and buried herself in his neck, but she restrained herself. Pulling back, she felt pleasantly warmed at the sight of his flushed face, his dimples prominent as he smiled shyly.
“Shall we?” She said breathlessly, stepping back into formation and raising her wand, pretending her body wasn’t buzzing with want.