Blood & Bind

{ CHAPTER FIVE }

- Hermione -

Hermione crept out of the Restricted Section, having given up on looking for answers there; for now, anyway … She was certain its books would prove useful in the future, but likely not for this. Unexpectedly, her run in with Malfoy held some weight – whether it was a game he was playing was yet to be known, but she had some questions, and she hadn’t been lying to him when she said they had been somewhat civil to each other the other night. Maybe I could continue to use that to my advantage … he didn’t exactly deny what I said, and well, speaking of Malfoy …

He had not wandered off very far. Still within her sights and still very much smirking in her direction as she tried not to bring attention to her previous whereabouts, Hermione sent him a leveled stare. Biting the inside of her cheek, she braced herself for yet another bout of torture and strolled over to where he was standing.

She wanted to wipe the smug grin off his face. 

“Back again so soon?” He asked cheekily, closing the book he was skimming through. Hermione resisted the urge to glimpse at the title; he probably plucked the first book he saw off the shelf and has no intentions of reading it seriously, anyway . Depositing the book back on the shelf, Malfoy turned to give her his full attention. Hermione didn’t know how she felt about that. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Save it,” Hermione scoffed with a shake of her head. She knew it was risky; he would likely wonder why she was asking, or counter her with more questions. Hermione hesitated, before shaking her nerves and bluntly asking, “Do you know anything about the third floor?”

Malfoy eyed her suspiciously for a moment. He shook his head, “Other than Dumbledore’s warning that it’s off-limits, no. I don’t. But even if I did, why would I tell you?”

“Well, bragging is your strongest skill.”

“And being a know-it-all is yours,” Malfoy drawled, rolling his eyes. “Seriously, Granger, if all you planned to do is insult me, well, that’s just no way to get the answers you’re looking for.”

“Funny, because I learned that tactic from you ,” she retorted scathingly. She crossed her arms impatiently, shifting her weight to one side and Draco suddenly smirked appreciatively at her. Hermione tried to keep her own little smirk under control. Check mate . 

“Fair enough,” he said simply. “However, I have no idea what’s on the third floor. Honestly, I’m surprised you, Potter and Weasley, haven't already tried to find out for yourselves.” 

Riiight… not purposely, at least , she thought to herself. Though Hermione refused to outright disclose that information to him; the last thing she needed to hear was, yet again, how foolish they were – she was certain it was coming anyway. 

“As you said, Dumbledore did say it was off-limits,” she shrugged. Malfoy barked a laugh, raising a brow at her that said he didn’t believe her words. 

“As if the rules apply to you three,” he said hotly, “You’d just find a way around them, and I’d bet my galleons you already have, or at least thought up a plan to. Your hesitation to answer honestly is very telling, Granger.”

Hermione sighed. She didn’t know what possessed her to say it. “Well, we didn’t really find out what’s on the third floor, just what’s guarding it…” trailing off before she could finish her sentence, Malfoy narrowed his eyes at her confession. He scoffed in disbelief, giving her an incredulous look.

“Is there an unwritten clause to being sorted into Gryffindor that states risking your own life for fun, or do the three of you simply enjoy testing the boundaries of mortality?” He snapped.

“ Nothing bad happened,” Hermione lied. Just encountering a large, three-headed dog that may or may not have wanted to eat us for trespassing … 

“You’re a terrible liar,” he hissed, effectively breaking her from her thoughts. Hermione rolled her eyes. “Weren't you just complaining about Potter and Weasley 'losing hard-earned House points' for breaking the rules! What happened to holding them accountable for acting above them? Seems to me you might just be a hypocrite, Granger.”

“Well, I didn’t break any rules…” She said under her breath, earning a withering glare from him. She leveled him with one of her own in return. Their fuming silence only stretched on for a brief moment before Malfoy shook his head. 

“No, you just ironically followed two idiots into reckless danger under the guise of upholding your moral high ground! The fact you’re standing here now defending them is ridiculous.”

“Oh, please,” Hermione giggled. He is rather dramatic . The sound of her careless laughter caused Draco to wrinkle his nose, and they both seemed to scan the library expectantly for Madam Pince’s appearance. She didn’t, however, and Hermione turned back to face Malfoy’s annoyed grimace. “If anything, it was an accident we found ourselves on the third floor trying to evade Filch; and come to think of it, it never would have happened in the first place if you hadn’t provoked Harry into a midnight duel you never intended to show up for! So, it was actually your fault we found ourselves face to face with danger.”

“You can’t seriously be blaming me for your lack of attention to your whereabouts!” Malfoy all but cried, looking taken back by her accusation. Her expectant expression didn’t falter, however, and she could see his irritation giving way to aggrieved concession. For once, he didn’t seem to have a snarky retort. Maybe he realizes it was his fault. 

After a long moment, he asked, “Hang on, why were you there anyway? You never did say how that happened. I thought you claimed you didn’t follow them around. As I recall it, you weren’t talking to them, and you weren’t even supposed to be a part of the duel.”

She could hear his comments if he knew the truth, and she wasn’t about to tell him she had gotten herself locked out of the common room attempting to stop them. After discovering what guards the third floor, she had spent the better half of that week avoiding the two, and the trouble they sought. She was only trying to save Gryffindor from unnecessary loss at the time. 

“I knew they would find themselves in trouble,” Hermione stated, suddenly finding her nail beds more interesting than meeting Malfoy’s eyes. Though she felt unnervingly familiar with his stare as of late, she was afraid he could somehow pull the truth with one look. She added, “and I also knew you had no intentions of showing up.”

“You did?” He questioned. She could hear the return of his smirk in his voice. “And how is it you just knew , Granger? Paying attention to me?”

“Not as much as you clearly pay attention to me,” she said, smug, tilting her head. “Seriously, Malfoy, how do you know how many times I raise my hand in class?” His smirk fell, and she knew he wouldn’t entertain her with the real answer. She thoroughly enjoyed having this little piece of information against him – it almost felt like she had the upper hand. 

“Why are you even asking me about the third floor?” Malfoy asked brusquely, growing impatient at her prodding. “You obviously already know what’s up there, and you clearly enjoy knowing everything.” 

“I don’t actually know what’s up there,” she begrudgingly admitted, not meeting his eyes this time. “As I said, we came across what was guarding the third floor. You often like to mention that your father knows what goes on around this school. I assumed you must also know.” 

She looked up then to meet his scathing stare. 

“When it comes to the politics of this school, and perhaps the occasional passing of information surrounding controversial happenstance — one instance being a triad of harebrained first-years blindly ‘stumbling’ upon a deadly troll and unwittingly knocking it unconscious! Not to mention how you three are still living to tell the tale!”

Hermione had already deduced, prior to his confirmation, that he didn’t believe she hadn’t gone after the troll on her own. There was no sense in trying to make him believe her, either; especially after admitting they had found themselves in more danger on the third floor only days prior. It wasn’t looking convincing on her end…  and with that in mind, it suddenly occurred to Hermione that in less than two months since her arrival at Hogwarts, she had already experienced narrowly evading an untimely end at the muzzles of a monstrous three-headed dog and the aggression of a rampant troll. She wondered what her parents would think. She also wondered if Malfoy would turn as white as his hair at this bit of knowledge.

The visual would have made her laugh if not for his sour expression.

"Bloody Gryffindors!" He spat out, effectively ending his rant. 

"For somebody who criticizes the House of Gryffindor so openly and regularly, you sure like to spend your time obsessing over its inhabitants," Hermione quipped with a sigh. Though she had expected an evasive answer, she was disappointed at the complete lack of an answer altogether. She had expected his crossness though, that was a given if nothing else. 

“I don’t obsess,” Malfoy countered, looking utterly bored and displeased with the direction of this conversation. "You came back to insult me and interrogate me about the third floor, I wouldn't exactly say I'm the one obsessed."

"You insult me constantly, Malfoy," she chided, mirroring his expression. She lowered her voice as she said, "Our entire correspondence since the start of term has been an exchange of insults, and for the last time you followed me into the Restricted Section because you can't mind your own business."

"One would call it vigilance - last thing we want is you three setting another bloody troll loose in the castle or performing some sort of Dark magic."

"We had nothing to do with that!" Hermione hissed. Malfoy didn't look convinced, only adding to her ire. "And I wasn't looking up Dark magic either."

"Why else does one sneak into the Restricted Section?" He fired back with a cruel smirk. He's wrong, but I can't tell him why he is. Hermione bit the inside of her cheek, reeling in her temper. It wasn't wise to give in to his goading, she knew, since he was trying to get under her skin so she would spill her secrets. Calming herself for a moment, they stared at each other, waiting for the other to say something first. 

"Malfoy! There you are! We've got to head down to the pitch now if we want good seats!" A voice called out then, breaking through their silent feud. They turned to find Theo Nott watching them, and his sudden disruption had earned him a sharp shushing from Madam Pince at her desk. He shrugged in response, smiling innocently at the scowling librarian.

Waving Theo off for a moment, Malfoy turned back to Hermione and was still expecting an answer. 

"Don't you have a Quidditch game to watch?" She queried just as innocently as Theo now pretended to be. Malfoy scoffed.

"Nice deflection, Granger. Have it your way, but don't think I'll forget this," He concluded, grabbing his bag. He gave her one last winning look before turning his back on her, catching up with Theo and sauntering out of the library without another glance. She watched them disappear through the doors before ungracefully dropping into her seat at her desk. Now alone, Hermione breathed a haggard sigh of relief.

That was a horrible idea... I should have known he wouldn't be any help, and even if he did know, he was right... why would he tell me anything? 

Her mind was too addled now to focus on the books she managed to gather before her trip to the Restricted Section, and Hermione found herself trudging up to the Gryffindor tower to change into warmer clothes for the upcoming Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin; under normal circumstances, Hermione didn't care much for the sport- but I wouldn't miss Harry's first game!

The common room was bustling with students getting ready to head down to the pitch when Hermione arrived.

She spotted Ron, Neville, Seamus and Dean around a large sheet they had made into a banner for Harry that read: Potter for President!

Dean was just finishing up a rather impressive drawing of a large Gryffindor lion beneath the words, though they still looked unsure about it, as if it were missing something. Hermione suggested a neat little spell she had come across in her reading that would allow the paint to change colors for more visibility. She had been dying to try it out, and was glad to see it succeed in practice. When they were satisfied with the way it turned out, the five of them quickly hurried out to the pitch to find seats before the start of the game. 

By eleven o'clock it seemed the entire school had turned out for this match - and rightfully so, since everyone wanted to see the new Gryffindor Seeker in action. Hermione was practically bouncing in her seat; her own excitement surprising her, and she hoped Harry wouldn't get too battered up once it started. He is the youngest player, and he's been fretting over practice for the last few weeks!

It felt like hours before the Gryffindor and Slytherin teams walked out of their respective locker rooms and onto the field. Cheers erupted from all sides, with Gryffindor sounding the loudest around her, but she could see the Slytherin stands were just as rowdy. Madam Hooch was refereeing, standing in the middle of the field as both teams approached. Harry looked so small next to the other players, but even she could see the smile on his face when he spotted the banner for him. 

Madam Hooch told them to mount their brooms, and at the sound of her whistle the game was off to a hot start. 

Lee Jordan, a third year and friend of the Weasley twins, was commentating the game. "- a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood’s, last year only a reserve — back to Johnson and — no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes — Flint flying like an eagle up there — he’s going to sc- no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle — that’s Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and — OUCH — that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger — Quaffle taken by the Slytherins — that’s Adrian Pucey speeding off toward the goal posts, but he’s blocked by a second Bludger — sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can’t tell which — nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes — she’s really flying — dodges a speeding Bludger — the goal posts are ahead — come on, now, Angelina — Keeper Bletchley dives — misses — GRYFFINDORS SCORE!” 

The Gryffindor stands erupted once more, and Hermione found herself joining in.

Secretly, she was scanning the Slytherin stands to see if Malfoy and his friends were just as disappointed as their housemates at Gryffindor's advantage. Malfoy was easy to spot, with his silver hair practically singling him out amongst the sea of green around him. He didn't look pleased. 

Hermione thought back to their conversation in the library. Paying attention to me? He'd taunted. It irked her that he found amusement in it, especially because he seemed to pay equal attention to her, if not more. He always worked his way around a question and always called her out for doing the same to him. Despite the score, he looked immersed in the game, cheering for his House with more of a boyish and carefree nature than his usual demeanor. It made her wonder if he wasn't so bad all the time...

“Budge up there, move along!” Hagrid's voice carried over the cheers, pulling Hermione's focus away from the Slytherin stands.

“Budge up there, move along!” Hagrid's voice carried over the cheers, pulling Hermione's focus away from a certain Slytherin. Ron stepped aside and Hermione squeezed over to give Hagrid enough space to join them. He patted a large pair of binoculars around his neck. “Bin watchin’ from me hut. But it isn’t the same as bein’ in the crowd. No sign of the Snitch yet, eh?”

“Nope,” Ron answered, shaking his head. “Harry hasn’t had much to do yet.”

“Kept outta trouble, though, that’s somethin’,” said Hagrid, raising his binoculars again. He was peering skyward at the speck that was Harry, and Hermione squinted up to try and see for herself. 

Way up above them, Harry was gliding over the game, searching for some sign of the Snitch. One of the twins was calling out to him, but over the sound of the crowd Hermione couldn't make out what was being said. 

Lee called out, “Slytherin in possession! Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds toward the — wait a moment — was that the Snitch?”

A murmur ran through the crowd. Harry had finally seen the Snitch! He dove downward suddenly, following a streak of gold, followed by Terence Higgs, the Slytherin Seeker. 

Neck and neck they hurtled toward the Snitch — all the Chasers seemed to have forgotten what they were supposed to be doing as they hung in midair to watch. Harry was faster than Higgs — WHAM! 

A roar of rage echoed from the Gryffindors below — Marcus Flint had blocked Harry on purpose, and Harry’s broom suddenly spun off course, with Harry holding on for dear life. 

Outraged screams of “Foul!” came from the Gryffindor stands. Madam Hooch was speaking angrily to Flint, ordering a free shot at the goal posts for Gryffindor. However, in all the confusion, the Golden Snitch had disappeared from sight again.

Dean Thomas was yelling, “Send him off, ref! Red card!” 

“What are you talking about, Dean?” asked Ron. 

“Red card!” said Dean furiously. “In soccer you get shown the red card and you’re out of the game!” 

“But this isn’t soccer, Dean,” Ron reminded him. Hagrid, however, was on Dean’s side. 

“They oughta change the rules. Flint coulda knocked Harry outta the air.”

Meanwhile, Lee Jordan was finding it difficult not to take sides. So much so, that McGonagall had issued him more than a few stern warnings, “All right, all right. Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I’m sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinnet, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession.” 

Harry was dodging another Bludger when his broom suddenly took a frightening lurch downward, and Hermione gasped as he gripped the broom to stop himself from falling off. 

It happened again! Something is wrong… Hermione scanned the stands. Though she was not an expert flyer by any means, and certainly her flying lessons could attest to that, even Hermione Granger knew that a broom didn’t try to buck its flyer off on its own. Somebody’s enchanting it!

Harry’s broom was completely out of his control then, zigzagging through the air, and making violent movements back and forth. Lee was still commentating, unaware of Harry high above the rest of the game. 

“Slytherin in possession — Flint with the Quaffle — passes Spinnet — passes Bell — hit hard in the face by a Bludger, hope it broke his nose — only joking, Professor — Slytherins score — oh no . . .” 

The Slytherins were cheering. No one else seemed to have noticed that Harry’s broom was behaving strangely. It was carrying him higher, away from the game. Hermione instinctively searched the Slytherin stands - half expecting Malfoy to be the cause, but not ruling out any of the others either. 

“Dunno what Harry thinks he’s doing,” Hagrid mumbled. He was watching through his binoculars. “If I didn’ know better, I’d say he’d lost control of his broom… but he can’t have…” 

Suddenly, people were pointing up at Harry all over the stands. He was only just managing to hold on as the movements became more aggressive. 

Then the whole crowd gasped. He was now dangling from it! 

“Did something happen to it when Flint blocked him?” Seamus asked the others around them.

“Can’t have,” Hagrid said, shaking his head. “Can’t nothing interfere with a broomstick except powerful Dark magic — no kid could do that to a Nimbus Two Thousand.”

It can’t be Malfoy, then . Hermione did the only thing she could think of then, and seized Hagrid’s binoculars. Instead of looking up at Harry, though she feared looking away, she started looking frantically around the crowd. 

“What are you doing?” Ron cried. Hermione ignored him, and her search stopped on the stands housing the professors. Her stomach lurched upon seeing Snape, and what looked to be him muttering to himself. She wondered how none of the other teachers were paying him any attention, but they were too focused on Harry and his uncontrollable Nimbus broom. 

“I knew it,” Hermione gasped, all but shoving the binoculars into Ron’s waiting hands, “Snape — look!” 

The image would not leave her mind. Snape was in the middle of the stands opposite them. He had his eyes fixed on Harry and was muttering nonstop under his breath. 

“He’s doing something — jinxing the broom,” she said, as an idea struck her. She would have to be quick, Snape was on the other side of the pitch. 

Ron looked grey. “What should we do?”

 “Leave it to me.” She sprinted down the stairs in a hurry, wasting no time as she ran beneath the scaffolding of the Quidditch pitch to the other side. Her lungs were already burning, teamed with the exhaustion her legs were feeling but she pushed through, ascending another set of stairs up to the stands beneath the professors’ pillar. 

Hermione had fought her way up just beneath the row where Snape stood; she didn’t even stop to say sorry as she knocked Professor Quirrell headfirst into the row in front. 

There was no time to waste.

When she finally reached Professor Snape she crouched down, pulled out her wand, and cast bright, blue flames onto the hem of his robes. 

It took no more than thirty seconds for Snape to realize that he was on fire, releasing a sudden yelp that told her she had done her job. 

Smiling a bit mischievously to herself, she scooped a small rogue flame into a little jar she had kept on her person – advice she silently thanked Professor Sprout for instilling in the first-years at the start of term: You’ll never know when you may come across ingredients, or peculiar magic. A flask will hold it nicely in the meantime! 

Hermione scrambled back along the row — Snape will never know what happened . 

It was enough to do the trick. 

Up in the air, Harry was suddenly able to clamber back on to his broom securely. Hermione now stood at the bottom of the stands, just above the pitch, watching as Harry sped toward the ground. She watched with bated breath as he clamped a hand to his mouth; he looks as though he’s about to be sick!

Harry abruptly hit the field on all fours, coughing into the grass, and something gold suddenly fell into his hand. 

He had caught the Snitch! 

“YES!” Hermione screamed, feeling her own swell of excitement as Harry held it high with a proud smile on his face. She was reminded of the moment he caught Neville’s Remembrall after Malfoy threw it far across the grounds. He had worn a similar smile, and she had been ready to scold Harry for his foolishness then, but now he had just won Gryffindor the game! 

“He didn’t catch it, he nearly swallowed it!” Flint was shouting angrily from his broom, mingled with the confused reactions in the stands but it made no difference — Gryffindor cheered loudly, Harry hadn’t broken any rules and Lee Jordan was still happily shouting the results, “GRYFFINDOR WINS BY ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY POINTS TO SIXTY!”

-x-

Their winning festivities continued down to Hagrid’s hut. Hermione had met up with Ron and Hagrid back in the stands, and they waited for Harry to change out of his gear. 

Hagrid prepared some strong cups of tea for the three as they sat around a large, wooden table in the middle of the hut. 

“It was Snape,” Ron tried to explain, “Hermione and I saw him. He was cursing your broomstick, muttering, he wouldn’t take his eyes off you.”

“Rubbish,” Hagrid said suddenly. He hadn’t heard a word of what had gone on next to him in the stands. He asked, “Why would Snape do some thin’ like that?” 

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at one another, wondering what to tell him. It was Harry who decided on the truth. 

“I found out something about him,” he told Hagrid then. “He tried to get past that three-headed dog on Halloween. It bit him. We think he was trying to steal whatever it’s guarding.” 

Hagrid all but dropped the teapot. 

“How do you know about Fluffy?” he asked brusquely. Another look was exchanged between the three, confirming that Hagrid knew. 

“Fluffy?” Harry asked, a bit incredulous to find the creature had a rather endearing name. 

“Yeah — he’s mine — bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las’ year — I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the —” Hagrid seemed to say too much, stopping himself before he could expose anything more. 

“Yes?” Harry pressed. 

“Now, don’t ask me anymore,” said Hagrid gruffly. “That’s top secret, that is.” 

“But Snape’s trying to steal it.” 

“Rubbish,” Hagrid said again. “Snape’s a Hogwarts teacher, he’d do nothin’ of the sort.” 

Hermione couldn’t believe her ears; I saw Snape jinxing Harry’s broom! She would not have set a teacher’s robes on fire if she weren’t certain. Snape was not to be trusted. 

“So why did he just try and kill Harry?” She cried. The afternoon’s events certainly changed her mind about Snape. Hermione persisted, “I know a jinx when I see one, Hagrid, I’ve read all about them! You’ve got to keep eye contact, and Snape wasn’t blinking at all, I saw him!” 

“I’m tellin’ yeh, yer wrong!” Hagrid protested. “I don’ know why Harry’s broom acted like that, but Snape wouldn’ try an’ kill a stu dent! Now, listen to me, all three of yeh — yer meddlin’ in things that don’ concern yeh. It’s dangerous. You forget that dog, an’ you forget what it’s guardin’, that’s between Professor Dumbledore an’ Nicolas Flamel —” 

“Aha!” Harry gasped, “so there’s someone called Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?” 

Hagrid looked furious with himself, glancing between the three. He refused to say anything more. They finished their tea in contemplative silence.

They bid Hagrid goodnight a short while later, though not before he warned them not to meddle anymore, and Hermione made a mental note to read up on Nicolas Flamel when she got back to the library.  

xXx

Christmas was drawing closer as the days went on. 

Snow now blanketed the grounds outside Hogwarts. The lake was frozen solid, and several owls had found themselves battling the stormy sky in the midst of the daily mail this time of year; it was no wonder several were being nursed back to health by Hagrid before they could fly off again. 

No one could wait for the holidays to start. The thought of returning home for two weeks was exciting for many, though bittersweet for some. 

While the Gryffindor common room was often kept warm by the large hearth in its center, the drafty corridors had become icy and the wind outside raged against the large, glass windows around the school. The worst of all were Professor Snape’s classes down in the dungeons; Hermione could see her breath more often than not, and tended to dress in layers when they had double Potions. 

She had had little to no luck in finding any further information on Nicolas Flamel since Hagrid had let the name slip all those nights ago. It seemed somebody had tipped off Madam Pince about first-years sneaking into the Restricted Section… and if she had to guess, it was probably Malfoy soiling her plans. 

Though she had also found her research at a standstill with all the talk of holidays and arranging plans to visit her parents over the winter break, so her mind had been a little distracted anyway.

And speaking of Malfoy, while stirring her cauldron she overheard him say, “I do feel so sorry for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they’re not wanted at home.” 

He was directing it at Harry, but his eyes landed on her just past Harry’s shoulder; Crabbe and Goyle chortled to themselves while Harry, who had been measuring out his powdered spine of lionfish, ignored them. Hermione felt rather proud of her friend for choosing to stay out of trouble lately. She leveled Malfoy with a glare, meeting his cold, icy eyes, before returning to her cauldron. 

Malfoy had been even more unpleasant than usual since the Quidditch match. Not only was he disgusted that Slytherin had lost, but he had tried to get everyone laughing at how a wide-mouthed tree frog would be replacing Harry as Seeker next. 

When he’d realized that nobody found this funny, because they were all still impressed at the way Harry had managed to stay on his broomstick and win the game, Malfoy had gone back to taunting Harry about having no proper family. 

“He’s just jealous and angry,” Ron remarked, shooting Malfoy with a glare of his own. “Tosser.”

So, Harry and Ron went back to discussing their spending the holiday at the castle. Ron and his brothers were also staying for Christmas, because their parents were travelling to Romania to visit his oldest brother, Charlie. 

They hadn’t managed to leave Potions without a scuffle, however, as Malfoy taunted Ron and a fight broke out. The two boys were throwing insults back and forth before Ron lunged at him, and Snape deducted five points from Gryffindor. 

Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle left with triumphant smirks as Ron continued to threaten Malfoy’s wellbeing and Hermione sighed to herself. Watching with ire as they scurried off to cause trouble elsewhere, she, Harry and Ron eventually followed Hagrid off with the Christmass tree through the castle, to the Great Hall, to be some of the first to see the decorations on display. 

The hall looked spectacular! Holly and mistletoe adorned the walls, there were no less than twelve towering Christmas trees that sparkled with icicles, and some glittered with hundreds of candles. The night sky above only added to its splendor, with suspended snow falling slowly. 

“How many days you got left until yer holidays?” Hagrid asked once the final tree had been placed and decorated. 

“Just one,” Hermione replied, feeling a bit dreamy at the thought of returning home for Christmas. “That reminds me – Harry, Ron, we’ve got half an hour before lunch, we should be in the library.”

“Oh yeah, you’re right,” Ron agreed, prying his eyes away from Professor Flitwick, who was casting a string of golden bubbles out of his wand over one of the Christmas trees. 

“The library?” Hagrid asked curiously. He began to follow them out of the hall, trailing only a few paces behind. “Just before the holidays? Bit keen, aren’t yeh?”

“Oh, we’re not working!” Harry said brightly. “Ever since you mentioned Nicolas Flamel we’ve been trying to find out who he is.”

“You what!?” Hagrid cried, shocked. “Listen here — I’ve told yeh — drop it. It’s nothin’ to you what that dog’s guardin’.” 

“We just want to know who Nicolas Flamel is, that’s all,” Hermione reasoned. She was certain Hagrid knew it was a lie, but they wanted to figure out what Nicolas Flamel had to do with what was on the third floor all the same. 

“Unless you’d like to tell us and save us the trouble?” Harry added innocently. “We must’ve been through hundreds of books already and we can’t find him anywhere — just give us a hint — I know I’ve read his name somewhere.” 

“I’m sayin’ nothin’,” Hagrid said firmly, shaking his head. 

“Just have to find out for ourselves, then,” Ron shrugged. They left Hagrid looking disgruntled as they hurried off to the library. 

Ever since Hagrid had let it slip, they had searched countless books for Flamel’s name, because how else were they going to find out what Snape was after? The trouble was, it was very hard to know where to begin, not knowing what Nicolas Flamel might have done to get himself into a book. When Harry and Ron hadn’t been with her, Hermione had sought topic after topic with no luck. 

He wasn’t in Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century, or Notable Magical Names of Our Time; he was missing, too, from Important Modern Magical Discoveries, and A Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry. 

For once, Hermione had been a little frazzled by the size of the Hogwarts library. Tens of thousands of books; thousands of shelves, hundreds of narrow rows seemed to laugh at her attempts. She had taken to utilizing a list of subjects and titles for her search, while Harry and Ron often just pulled books at random. 

Harry had been shooed away from the Restricted Section more times than he could remember, since Madam Pince had started keeping a closer eye on it. This greatly displeased Hermione, since it eliminated a rather important part of their search... If Nicolas Flamel couldn’t be found in the unrestricted books offered at Hogwarts, his name is likely there, she thought with a defeated sigh – she had only glimpsed a few books before Malfoy caught her the last time. I bet anything he's the reason I can't get past Madam Pince. 

Their search proved useless yet again, before they headed back to the Great Hall for lunch with no new discoveries and no time left to look.

“You’ll keep looking while I’m away, won’t you?” Hermione asked them both. “And send me an owl if you find anything.”

“And you could ask your parents if they know who Flamel is,” said Ron. “It’d be safe to ask them.”

 “Very safe, as they’re both dentists,” Hermione said, though she was certain they would have no idea what she was talking about. 

xXx

The train home was different than the train to Hogwarts had been. The excitement was still there, but it was less crowded and many compartments sat unoccupied. Hermione found a compartment to herself, wrapping her robes around her legs like a makeshift blanket and tucking them up under her bum. 

She had a book in her lap, skimming the pages thoughtfully while she read. Students passed by the compartment here and there, but nobody disturbed her. She began to miss Harry and Ron just a little bit, but she was thankful for some time to herself. 

She thought of her parents. Excited to see them again, Hermione was looking forward to the car ride home through the countryside she had grown up in, and the smell of her mum’s blueberry pancakes on Christmas morning. The ache in her chest subsided to a dull thrum in tune  with the tracks the further along the scenery blurred by outside the windows. 

Home . Hermione had put her bookmark between the pages to hold her place while she stared out the window, resting her forehead against the glass, when the sound of the door pulled her from her thoughts. She expected to find somebody looking for a compartment to rest in, only to realize it was the last person she wanted to see… 

Malfoy .