Chapter 7
Hermione woke up in the Gryffindor common room, feeling as though she had just experienced a long, vague dream. The dim light coming through the window highlighted the unusual stillness of the morning. She couldn't remember how she had ended up here. The pounding headache, heavy and sharp as if her mind were being torn into pieces, was a clear sign of the hangover from the night before. The lingering smell of alcohol on her body made her feel as if a fog had settled in her head, blurring all the memories from last night.
She sat up, leaning against the bed's headboard, and rubbed her forehead, trying to focus. What had happened yesterday? She recalled the figures of the three Slytherins, sitting across from each other in the dark corner of the pub, though it wasn't very clear. Blaise, with his light, mocking smile, had been constantly teasing her. His manner of ridicule always made her feel like a joke, a toy in his hands. But what stuck with her most was Draco's gaze. There was nothing in his eyes but coldness and distance, as if she were nothing more than a part of a game he couldn't be bothered with.
Theo was different. He had silently observed, not overly involved. His sharp eyes held something that made Hermione feel a dark undercurrent, something hard to put into words. He didn’t speak much, but every time he did, Hermione sensed the calculations behind each word.
The pain in her head flared again, and Hermione placed her hand on her forehead, realizing she had drunk too much last night. It certainly wasn’t good, but now there was nothing she could do about it. A wave of nausea quickly spread through her body, but she forced herself to take deep breaths, pushing herself to stand.
As she left the room, the images of last night lingered in her mind. She couldn't forget Blaise's mocking words, Draco's cold stares, and the muffled sounds of their conversation. She didn't know what she had said, only that she no longer remembered the details of their meeting. Everything had turned into fragmented memories, tangled emotions.
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The day passed by in a haze. Everything seemed unremarkable, as if it were just a breeze passing through without leaving a trace. The students at school weren’t as crowded as usual, and Slytherins seemed completely absent, with only ghostly figures drifting through the corridors, wearing pensive expressions. Hermione didn’t want to see anyone; she just wanted to avoid them, partly because of the dull ache in her head, and partly because of the thoughts circling in her mind.
She accidentally ran into Lavender in the hallway, the girl who was the last person Hermione wanted to become. Lavender giggled when she saw Ron, and the arrogance, the smugness of her receiving Ron's attention, showed in the way she looked at Hermione.
"Ron, what do you think of this?" Lavender asked, holding up a scarf in front of Ron, her gaze eager and expectant. She deliberately used sweet words to attract Ron’s attention. Hermione walked slowly, not looking back, showing that she was not affected by her actions. As she passed them, she left behind only a disdainful glance.
Ron smiled slightly, his eyes not leaving Lavender. His self-satisfaction seemed to increase tenfold with Lavender beside him; they were a perfect match. Their arm-in-arm walks and affectionate laughter seemed to demand that everyone look at them.
Harry was also there, but he was different from usual. His messy hair, dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep, pale skin, and a weary face made Hermione see the exhaustion in every movement of his. Her heart ached when she thought about the burdens he was carrying. Harry didn’t speak much, but everything he did showed that the worry was eating away at him. He was no longer the strong Harry she once knew.
“Hermione, are you okay?” Harry asked with a concerned expression as she passed. He was still as warm as ever, and Hermione wanted to tell him everything she was thinking, all of it. But she just nodded, not wanting to say much. Harry gave her a gentle hug.
Neither of them wanted these things to happen. The cracks in their friendship, the wounds that would never heal. Even though they spoke to each other, their thoughts were no longer aligned. The hidden feelings, the fear that if anyone knew, nothing could ever be fixed. The wounds grew deeper, and the distance between them widened.
She loved Harry and didn’t want him like this. But what could she do now? She couldn’t help him.
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Cormac continued to be a nuisance. He always found ways to start a conversation, always trying to extend the dull exchanges. Hermione felt extremely uncomfortable around him. She didn’t want to hear his meaningless words, and she certainly didn’t want to hear the fake compliments he gave her. She knew he was just trying to win her over, but she wanted nothing to do with him.
He was always boasting about himself, each word aimed at inflating his ego. If he wasn’t boasting, he was insulting others. He mocked Harry’s weakness, Ron’s stupidity… so much so that she couldn’t even count them all. All just to lift himself up, showing her how he was so perfect for her.
“Granger, don’t feel shy around me. I’m pursued by so many girls, but you will always be the only one for me,” he said, draping an arm around her shoulders with pride. His hand didn’t stay still and began to wander lower. When his hand brushed against her hip, Hermione shoved him away.
“McLaggen, I don’t think I need to be your ‘one and only.’ You should find some other girl who loves you,” she sniffed, turning to walk away. He grabbed her arm, pulling her toward him, pressing his body against hers. “Let me go, McLaggen!” she snapped.
He pulled her closer to him. “Stop pretending to be innocent, Granger. You’re just the type of filthy girl,” he hissed, his eyes burning with jealousy. “You're bitching about me while you're paying attention to Malfoy? Did he put a spell on you? Or have you already slept with him?” He forced her to look into his eyes, flames of envy burning in them. “Or maybe both, Granger? You're Malfoy's bitch,” he sneered.
She felt her wand in her pocket, her gaze locked on him. The crazy bastard was trying to mock her. Her hand grasped the wand’s handle.
“Stupefy!”
McLaggen flew backward, crashing into the wall behind him, fragments of the stone breaking apart. His head slammed against the wall, knocking him unconscious. Hermione turned and walked briskly away. The noise behind her no longer seemed important. His humiliation was enough. What did he mean by telling her to pay attention to Malfoy? She was tired of the meaningless games played by those around her.
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The school felt different today. The Slytherins were sparse, no longer the loud figures they usually were, and there were no more giggles from students in other houses. A silence, a gloom hung in the air of the hallways, making Hermione feel as though she were living in a nightmare.
The students no longer played or ran about like before. They formed small groups, gossiping about their own affairs. Whispers echoed through the classrooms, hallways, and even the common room. The professors seemed busy with something, something secretive. She inhaled the quiet around her, feeling it more than she had in a long time.