Chapter 6
October 30th, 1994
There was no denying that the air between Draco and Maria had shifted over the past few days. Unbeknownst to Maria, Theo had confronted Draco about his feelings for the only girl in their circle. Of course, Draco had quickly brushed it off, switching the topic with practiced ease, dismissing what he called “another one of Theo’s ridiculous theories.”
Yet, the tension between Draco and Maria had grown noticeable, though neither of them had been bold enough to address it. Their interactions felt heavier, as if the easy friendship they once shared was slowly evolving into something more—something neither of them seemed prepared to acknowledge.
That morning, the entire school buzzed with excitement; students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang would be arriving at Hogwarts that very night for a special feast. The rumors about the Triwizard Tournament, which had been simmering for weeks, were suddenly reignited. It was the only logical explanation for the presence of the two foreign schools, and the thought of spending the rest of the year alongside them filled the halls with excitement.
In Potions class, most students were too distracted to focus properly. The anticipation of the guests from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang arriving overtook almost every conversation. Maria, however, quietly continued working on her potion, her focus steady.
“I’ve heard the Beauxbatons girls are stunning,” Theo said with a wide grin, dropping four mistletoe berries into his cauldron without a second thought.
Blaise glanced over and snorted. “You might want to worry about your potion first. You just doubled the amount of mistletoe berries. Only two, Theo—not four.”
Theo cursed under his breath, but not quietly enough to escape Snape’s attention. He loomed over their table within seconds, his eyes narrowing as he examined Theo’s cauldron. The liquid inside had turned a deep, unnatural blue, a stark contrast to the correct teal color in Maria, Draco, and Blaise’s cauldrons.
“Might it interest you, Mr. Nott, to seek a tutor for Potions?” Snape drawled, his voice filled with disdain. “Unless, of course, you’d prefer joining the remedial classes I host every Saturday evening.”
Theo winced as Snape surveyed the disaster in his cauldron, and he sheepishly reached for the ladle to attempt damage control. The professor’s lip curled in disgust as Theo lifted the sludge-like substance.
“Don’t worry, Professor. I can fix it,” Theo offered, though the tremor in his voice betrayed his own doubt.
Snape clicked his tongue. “I’m afraid there’s only ten minutes left of class, Mr. Nott. Join us tomorrow evening at six o’clock sharp for remedial lessons. Merlin knows how much more damage you’d cause trying to fix it now.”
As Snape swept away, Theo’s shoulders slumped, and he stared at his potion in defeat. Maria couldn’t help but chuckle softly at his miserable expression. Theo never seemed to fully grasp potions.
“You’ve got to stop daydreaming about Beauxbatons girls,” Maria teased, her smile playful as she gave Theo a gentle nudge. “Maybe then you’d remember how to follow basic instructions.”
Theo sighed dramatically, casting her a glance. “Easy for you to say. I swear Snape has it out for me.”
“Snape has it out for everyone,” Draco chimed in with a smirk, not looking up from his own perfectly brewed potion.
Blaise chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. “You’re just giving him too many reasons to single you out, Theo.”
The class continued, with most students rushing to finish their potions. Maria worked steadily, her potion reaching the perfect shade of teal, the telltale sign of a successful Antidote to Common Poisons. Blaise and Draco had finished around the same time, their brews looking nearly identical to hers.
Theo, on the other hand, spent the remainder of class sulking over his failed attempt, muttering under his breath about remedial Potions. He wasn’t alone—several other students, including Seamus and Goyle, were also victims of Snape’s disappointment, their cauldrons filled with potions ranging from dull brown to a sickly purple.
As the final minutes of class ticked by, Snape glided back to the front of the room, his sharp eyes sweeping over the students. “Time’s up. Bottle your potions and place them on my desk,” he ordered, his voice cold as ever.
Maria carefully ladled a portion of her potion into a glass vial and labeled it with her name before walking to Snape’s desk, followed by Draco and Blaise. Theo reluctantly handed in his own failed potion, already resigned to the remedial session tomorrow.
Once the last student had turned in their work, Snape addressed the class. “Those of you who have completed the potion to standard may leave. As for the rest of you…” His eyes flicked to Theo, Seamus, and the others. “You will report here tomorrow evening for remedials.”
With a flick of his wrist, Snape dismissed the class. Maria was just about to follow Draco and Blaise out when Snape’s voice cut through the room.
“Miss PenDragon, stay behind for a moment.”
She paused, exchanging a curious glance with the boys. “I’ll catch up with you in a minute,” she said softly, looking at Draco.
Draco frowned, concern flickering across his features. “Do you want me to wait?”
Maria shook her head with a reassuring smile. “No, it’s fine. You, Theo, and Blaise can head to the library. I’ll meet you there.”
Draco hesitated for a moment, but eventually nodded. “Alright. Don’t be too long,” he said, his tone light but his gaze still lingering as he left the classroom with Blaise and Theo, their footsteps echoing in the hallway.
Once the door closed behind them, Maria turned back to Snape, who had returned to his desk, rifling through some parchment. She stood quietly, waiting for him to speak, her mind already racing with possibilities as to why he wanted to talk to her privately.
Maria stood quietly as Snape finished shuffling the parchment on his desk, the familiar clink of glass vials echoing in the otherwise still room. After a moment, Snape finally looked up, his dark eyes scrutinizing her with his usual sharpness, but something else lingered in his expression—something more personal.
“How are you adjusting to Hogwarts, Miss PenDragon?” he asked, his voice even but with a hint that suggested he wasn’t asking purely out of professional obligation.
Maria blinked, slightly caught off guard. “I’m adjusting well, Professor,” she replied. “It’s been…a bit overwhelming at times, but I’m managing.”
Snape’s gaze softened slightly—a small change in his typically hard demeanor. He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. “Overwhelming, yes,” he echoed, “though not unexpected, given the circumstances.”
There was a pause before Snape spoke again, his tone shifting. “Your mother, Sofiana, was a close friend of mine. You likely know this, but it bears repeating. We’ve known each other for a long time, and though we have walked different paths, I’ve always had a great deal of respect for her.”
“I offer my condolences,” Snape continued, his voice low and measured. “Roland has contacted me and revealed her condition. I understand she is receiving treatment in Romania.”
Maria nodded, her throat tightening as she responded. “Thank you, Professor. She’s doing as well as she can.”
Snape tilted his head slightly, the barest flicker of concern passing over his features before he quickly masked it. “It’s understandable,” he said, “that her situation weighs on you. But she is a strong woman, as you know. She would not want you to falter here.”
Maria offered a grateful smile. “Yes, sir. I’ll do my best.”
Snape regarded her for another moment, his eyes unreadable, before shifting back to his more typical demeanor. “As for your studies, you’re making steady progress. I see no reason you won’t catch up with your classmates, though Potions, in particular, will require more focus. You have talent, Miss PenDragon. Do not waste it.”
“Yes, Professor,” Maria said earnestly. “I’ll work harder.”
Snape gave a curt nod of approval. “And,” he added, his tone slightly less severe, “I’m glad to see you’re still keeping close with your usual friends—Draco, Blaise, and Theodore. They can be troublesome, as I’m sure you’re well aware, but…they are better company than most of the others in this castle.”
Maria couldn’t help but smile at that, knowing how much Snape favored his Slytherins, especially Draco and his usual companions. “They are,” she agreed. “We’ve known each other for so long, I suppose it’s hard to imagine life without them.”
Snape’s expression shifted, though barely—just the smallest hint of warmth in his usually impassive gaze. “Indeed. It is good that you’ve remained close to them, even with your placement in Gryffindor. House loyalty is important, yes, but it should not come at the expense of genuine friendship.”
Maria nodded, feeling a bit more at ease. Snape’s approval, though subtle, was still something she valued, even if he had a habit of hiding his concern beneath layers of stern professionalism.
After a moment’s pause, Snape straightened. His gaze sharpened once more, returning to its usual intensity. “However, a word of advice, Miss PenDragon,” he said, his voice taking on a cooler tone. “Be mindful of certain…associations while you’re here.”
Maria frowned slightly, unsure of what he meant. Snape’s eyes flicked to the door, and though he didn’t mention any names, the message was clear. His warning was directed at someone—perhaps a group—and Maria could only guess he was referring to the likes of Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger.
“Some circles,” Snape added, “are best avoided. Even the most well-meaning people can lead you into…unnecessary complications.”
Though his words were vague, Maria nodded in understanding. “I’ll keep that in mind, Professor.”
Snape gave her one last measured look before he nodded. “You’re dismissed.”
With that, Maria turned to leave, her thoughts lingering on Snape’s cryptic words as she exited his classroom. The chill of the dungeon air followed her up the staircase, and her mind continued to swirl with the weight of the conversation, the warning playing over in her thoughts.
Maria slipped into the empty chair beside Blaise, setting her bag down on the table with a soft thud. The low hum of students murmuring around them filled the library, but the quiet made it easy for their small group to converse without drawing too much attention.
“What did Snape want from you?” Blaise asked casually, his eyes flicking up from the book he’d been skimming.
“Nothing much,” Maria replied, leaning back in her chair. “He was just checking up on me, offered his condolences for my mother, and told me I need to put more effort into Potions.”
Theo let out a scoff, twirling his quill between his fingers. “More effort? You’re practically on par with Draco already.”
Maria shrugged, but before she could respond, Blaise smirked. “Maybe he wants to see your full potential. After all, your father is a groundbreaking potioneer.”
She sighed, rubbing her temples lightly. “The fourth-year Potions curriculum does feel easy compared to the work I’ve done with my father, but Snape has a point. I tend to rush through potions that take longer to brew, especially antidotes.”
Draco, who had been quietly flipping through a thick book on dragon history, finally looked up. “Snape’s expectations are always high. He’s like that with anyone he thinks has promise.”
Maria smiled faintly at his words, though the weight of Snape’s lecture still lingered in the back of her mind. The thought of constantly needing to prove herself gnawed at her, but she wasn’t about to voice it aloud. Instead, she reached for her transfiguration notebook in her satchel, absently flipping through its pages.
“Well, you’ve got nothing to worry about,” Theo said, leaning back in his chair with a grin. “If anyone’s going to surpass Snape’s expectations, it’ll be you.”
Maria gave a small laugh but said nothing more.
Theo, who had already gushed about a familiar book when he made it back to the Slytherin dorm the other night, couldn’t help but bring it up again. He’d told Draco and Blaise then, and Maria had been there when he first found the old text in the library. Now, as he flipped through its pages once more, his excitement was as palpable as ever.
"Seriously, Theo," Blaise said, leaning back in his chair with a smirk, "you’ve got an obsession with this Triwizard Tournament rumor. You've been talking about it non-stop."
Theo waved off the remark, not bothering to look up from the book. "This isn’t just some rumor, Blaise. It will happen. It’s history coming alive."
Draco, sitting opposite Maria, gave a half-hearted nod, more focused on reading than joining the conversation. Maria, however, was curious.
“Why did they cancel the tournament in the first place?” she asked, her gaze settling on Theo. “If it’s such a big deal, surely they had a good reason.”
Theo’s eyes gleamed as if he had been waiting for this moment. He flipped quickly to a bookmarked page, his finger tracing the text.
"Here it is," he said, glancing up at the group. "It was cancelled because of the casualties. Too many students were dying, and in 1792, there was this incident where a cockatrice—get this—ended up injuring the three headmasters of the competing schools. They couldn’t control it, and that was the final straw."
"A cockatrice?" Maria repeated, her brow furrowing. "I thought those were supposed to be rare. And dangerous."
"Exactly," Theo said with a satisfied grin, "which is why it makes sense they shut it down. But think about it—if they’re bringing the tournament back now, that means they must have figured out how to make it safer. Maybe new rules or protections."
Blaise snorted softly. "Or the Ministry is hiding something. The Triwizard Tournament will make headlines on all newspapers, not just the Daily Prophet. You know how people get about tradition." He leaned forward, lowering his voice dramatically. "Theo, I’m telling you, you’re obsessed."
Theo just shrugged. "If I am, it’s with good reason. This is history. And if the tournament does happen, it’ll be the biggest thing Hogwarts has seen in ages. You don’t want to miss that, do you?"
Maria exchanged a glance with Draco, who remained silent but seemed to be listening closely. Despite Theo’s enthusiasm, there was something unsettling about the idea of a tournament so dangerous it had been canceled for centuries.
As they continued their conversation, the door to the library creaked open, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked in, their voices low but unmistakable. They made their way to a table two rows down, clearly within sight. Blaise, always quick to notice, glanced over with a scoff.
“Of all the empty tables in here, they choose that one?” he muttered, irritation plain in his voice. “Typical.”
Maria glanced up and caught Hermione’s eye. The Gryffindor girl hesitated for a moment before giving her a tentative wave. Maria returned it with a polite smile, though she could feel Blaise’s stare beside her.
“They’re not that bad, you know?” Maria began, defending the trio. She wouldn’t forget how nice they were that one night when Hermione extended an invite for her to join them.
Draco scoffed quietly. “Yet they’re always the ones who end up in trouble.”
Maria kicked his leg under the table and gave him a pointed look. “How many times do I have to tell you to be nice?”
Draco crossed his arms, shooting the trio a glare before focusing on his book again.
“I’ll be back,” Theo grumbled, pushing his chair back and standing abruptly. Clearly the company of the trio has already soured his mood. “I’m going to see if there’s another book on the Triwizard Tournament. There has to be something with more details on the tasks.”
“I’ll join you,” Blaise said, quickly standing as well. “Can’t deal with them sitting over there.”
Maria sighed as she watched them leave, then turned back to the page of notes in front of her with a frown of concentration.
“I still can’t manage the Vanishing Spell,” she admitted, frustration creeping into her voice. “We learned it last week, but I just can’t get it to work. Can you help?”
Draco glanced up from his own book and gave her a look. “Here, I’ll show you.”
He rummaged through his bag and placed two small empty jars on the table between them. “It’s all in the wand movement. Watch.”
“Wait, why do you have jars in your bag–“
“Maria,” he cut her off, not wanting to entertain her thoughts.
With a quick, practiced flick of his wand, Draco said, “Evanesco,” and one of the jars disappeared instantly, leaving nothing but empty space in its place.
Maria raised an eyebrow. “You make it look so easy,” she muttered, lifting her wand. She focused on the remaining jar, keeping her voice low. “Evanesco.”
The jar wavered slightly, its edges shimmering as if on the verge of vanishing, but then it remained stubbornly in place.
Draco leaned in a little closer, his voice patient. “You’re nearly there. It’s your hand movement that’s off. Here—” Without thinking, he reached across the table, his fingers grazing hers as he gently corrected the motion. The contact was brief, but Maria felt a jolt of warmth at the touch, a flutter in her stomach that left her momentarily flustered.
She glanced at their hands, her breath catching slightly, while Draco pulled his hand back quickly, clearing his throat and looking a little flustered himself.
“Try again,” he said, crossing his arms as if to mask the slip in his expression.
Maria, still feeling the ghost of his touch on her skin, refocused on the jar. She raised her wand, adjusted her grip, and said with more confidence, “Evanesco.”
This time, the jar vanished completely. A wide smile broke across her face, and though Draco’s response was more reserved, there was no hiding the glint of pride in his eyes. His lips twitched into a small, approving smile, but not enough for Maria to catch him fully.
“See?” he said, his tone soft. “You’ve got it.”
Maria chuckled, her eyes still lingering on the now-empty space where the jar had been. “Thank you. But I still feel I should practice more.”
Draco smirked, leaning back in his chair. “We can another time. You might cast it on one of the books here and Madam Pince will not be happy to notice missing books in her library.”
She gave him a small smile and glanced to her left, noticing that Harry, Ron, and Hermione had been watching them from their table. Hermione seemed particularly interested, though when Maria met her eyes, she quickly turned back to her notes, her cheeks slightly flushed. Ron nudged Harry, whispering something under his breath.
Maria sighed softly, shaking off the odd feeling the trio’s attention had stirred in her. She put away her Transfiguration notes, pulling out a different notebook in front of her. “Well, at least some of my stress has been alleviated. But we still have History of Magic to deal with.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “Don’t remind me.”
Maria had quickly realized that studying alone with Draco was productive. However, once Blaise and Theo joined, any chance of real studying vanished amid their endless antics.
When the two returned with arms full of books on the Triwizard Tournament, Draco and Maria’s carefully laid-out notes were promptly shoved aside.
“The whole point of a study session is to study,” Maria sighed, her voice tinged with irritation. She had grown tired of hearing the same off-topic discussions repeated endlessly.
Theo waved a dismissive hand. “Come on, Maria. You’re ranked—what?—top five in the class? What could you possibly have left to study?”
Draco shot him a sharp look and smacked the back of his head. “Maybe because she actually studies, unlike you. No wonder you’re scraping the bottom of the class rankings.”
Theo’s face turned pink with embarrassment.
“I-I study!” Theo stammered defensively, his cheeks flaring in embarrassment. “When it’s necessary…”
Maria raised an eyebrow, cutting him off. “Theo, as much as I adore your company,” she said with exaggerated sarcasm, “the next time you and Blaise join us for studying, could you both actually study with us?”
“Fine,” Theo grumbled, sinking back into his chair.
Maria nodded, running a hand through her hair. “Should we start packing up? The feast will begin in about half an hour,” she said, glancing down at her wristwatch.
Draco stood, gathering his scattered notes. “We should,” he agreed. “We’ll need enough time to drop off our things in the dorms.”
After packing up their belongings and returning the books Theo and Blaise had barely read, the group began to head out of the library. But as Maria glanced down at her hands, she froze, her heart skipping a beat. The ring she always wore—the one she, Blaise, Theo, and Draco had made together when they were younger as a pact to their friendship—was missing from her forefinger.
"Wait!" she called to the boys, who stopped immediately. "My ring—it's gone."
Draco and Theo turned, concern flickering in their eyes. "You go on ahead," Maria said quickly. "Your common room takes longer to get to. I'll just use Accio to find it."
Theo shook his head firmly. "We’re not leaving until that ring is back on your finger. We know how much it means to you."
Blaise and Draco exchanged looks before nodding in agreement. Together, they retraced their steps to the table where they had been studying. Maria was certain she’d been wearing it the whole time. How could it have slipped off? The ring was charmed to fit snugly.
"Accio ring," she said, pointing her wand in no specific direction.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, a faint metallic clink echoed nearby. The four of them scanned the area, and soon the ring appeared, skittering across the floor before landing near Maria’s feet.
She bent down to grab it, but Theo stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t touch it!”
“What?” Maria asked, standing up again. Blaise quickly levitated the ring with a flick of his wand, causing it to hover in midair. Upon closer inspection, the faint shimmer of magic surrounded it.
“Someone’s charmed it?” Blaise mused, eyes narrowing.
“Or cursed,” Draco added, his voice serious. “No one touches that with their bare hands. It’s not safe.”
Maria frowned. “But my ring—”
“Will be fine,” Draco assured her. “We’ll bring it to Snape and see if he can figure out what’s been done.”
Reluctantly, Maria nodded, watching as Draco retrieved a small jar—similar to the one they had used earlier when practicing the vanishing spell for Transfiguration. Blaise carefully dropped the ring inside, the metal making a sharp clink as it hit the glass. With a small sigh, Draco shoved it in his satchel.
"Who would do something like that?" Maria muttered, a chill creeping up her spine.
“Think it was Bulstrode?” Theo asked, his voice low.
Draco shook his head. “Bulstrode can barely levitate a feather. No way could she manage to charm a ring.”
After the scare of nearly losing her ring—only to find and discover it had been charmed, or worse, cursed as Draco suspected—the group briefly returned to their common rooms to drop off their school supplies. But the unease still bothered Maria.
She felt vulnerable, exposed. Her mind raced, replaying the moment when the ring skittered across the floor, touched by magic. Who could have enchanted it? There wasn’t a single person she had issues with at Hogwarts, besides Pansy—and even Pansy didn’t seem smart enough to do something like this. The whole situation felt wrong. It was as though invisible eyes were watching her every move, lurking just out of sight. The question wasn’t if someone was after her, but who.
Her thoughts twisted even more. What if she had touched the ring? Would her skin have sweltered with boils, or would her fingers have blackened as a curse took hold? Or worse, what if the curse had been lethal? The idea that something that small could hold such deadly power sent a shiver down her spine.
Shaking her head, Maria forced the images away, refusing to let the fear get to her. She hurried out of the Gryffindor common room until she reached the entrance/exit of the Grand Staircase. She glanced around, expecting to see her friends, but Blaise, Theo, and Draco hadn’t arrived yet.
The hallways were quieter than usual, the usual chatter of students muted. Most of them had likely made their way to the Great Hall by now, eager for the evening’s feast and the arrival of the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students. But there was something about the silence tonight that felt... off.
As Maria waited, her eyelids grew heavy, and the world around her blurred. Her thoughts swirled in confusion, and a sudden wave of exhaustion crashed over her. She reached out, steadying herself against the cold stone wall just before her knees buckled.
Her breathing quickened, each gasp feeling more desperate than the last. Panic clawed at her chest. Tugging at her tie, she struggled to loosen the constricting fabric, but it wasn’t enough. It felt like she was drowning in the very air around her.
A distant voice called her name, but she couldn’t focus. Her only instinct was to breathe. She ripped the tie from her collar, but still, the tightness in her throat remained, suffocating.
“Maria, are you alright?”
A hand rested gently on her shoulder. Through her hazy vision, she saw the familiar mop of untidy brown hair and round glasses—it was Harry.
“Get help,” she rasped, her voice barely above a whisper.
Harry shook his head, determination in his eyes. “I’m not leaving you—”
She gripped his arm, trying to push him away, but her fingers only dug deeper into his sleeve, betraying her weakening control. “Harry, please. Get help. I-I can’t—”
Suddenly, a blinding light flashed behind her eyes, and her body went still. Harry froze, watching in bewilderment as her eyes clouded over, swirling with shades of grey and white. For a brief moment, he could swear images flickered in the depths of her irises, as if they were playing out scenes only she could see.
“Potter!”
Harry turned sharply at the sound of Professor Snape’s voice. The Potions professor was walking down the corridor, Draco, Blaise, and Theo close behind.
“Professor! You have to help me! It’s Maria—she’s—”
At the mention of her name, all four of them rushed towards her, worry etched on their faces.
“If you’ve done something to her, Potter—” Draco began, his voice sharp with accusation.
Snape’s dark eyes flicked to Maria, and in an instant, he raised a hand, stopping them in their tracks. “Don’t touch her,” he commanded, his voice low and urgent.
“What’s happening to her?” Draco’s voice rang out, sharp with urgency as he stepped closer, his gaze fixed on Maria’s limp form.
Snape, ignoring him entirely, focused on Maria, who was still gripping Harry’s arm with surprising strength. Harry winced, attempting to free himself, but her grip was unyielding.
“Professor, please,” Blaise spoke, his usual composure cracking as worry seeped into his tone. “What’s wrong with Maria? Why are her eyes—”
“Silence,” Snape barked, his voice cutting through Blaise’s. “I need to concentrate.”
Draco’s panic heightened. “But something’s wrong with her!” he nearly shouted, taking another step forward. “You have to at least know what’s wrong!”
Theo, standing beside Blaise, clenched his fists, his voice thick with concern. “She’s never been like this before.”
Snape’s jaw tightened, his wand hovering over Maria as he muttered a spell under his breath, his eyes flicking back and forth as if searching for some hidden sign. Despite the tension, he offered no explanation.
After what felt like an eternity, Maria’s grip on Harry’s arm began to loosen. Her eyes, once clouded with strange, swirling clouds, cleared. The shades of grey and white faded away until her gaze returned to normal. Her body sagged, and she collapsed, unconscious, her hand slipping from Harry’s arm as she fell limp.
Snape hesitated before touching her. He hovered a hand over her wrist, as though testing for any lingering magic, before checking her pulse. Once satisfied that the danger had passed, he carefully lifted her into his arms.
“Is she going to be alright?” Blaise asked, his voice low but heavy with concern.
Snape shot him a sharp, pointed glance. “I don’t know.”
Harry, still rubbing the spot where Maria had gripped him, glanced between Snape and Maria, confusion knotting his brow. “What did she do? Why were her eyes like that?”
Snape’s temper flared, his eyes flashing with frustration. “I don’t know, Potter. And that’s why you are going straight to the Great Hall—and staying silent about everything you’ve seen.”
Harry opened his mouth to ask more, but Snape’s next words cut through him like ice.
“If I hear one word about this incident, I promise, you won't see the beginning of tomorrow.”
Harry swallowed, feeling a chill run down his spine. “Yes, Professor.”
Snape’s gaze lingered for a moment longer, as if daring Harry to defy him, before turning back to the rest of the group. “Now, all of you. To the Great Hall.”
Draco, who had been pacing beside Blaise and Theo, stepped forward, shaking his head. “No. I’m not going anywhere. I’m going with her.”
Snape’s lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes narrowing. “Very well. But just you. The others—leave.”
Theo’s expression darkened, but he didn’t argue, his eyes flicking between Maria’s still form and Draco. Blaise, too, hesitated, though the sharpness in his gaze didn’t falter. They both turned reluctantly and began walking towards the Great Hall, but Theo shot one last, worried glance over his shoulder. Harry followed.
As they rounded the corner, Theo’s frustration erupted. He grabbed Harry by the arm, pulling him roughly to a stop. “What did you do to her, Potter?” he demanded, his voice a low growl. His eyes burned with suspicion, and his grip was firm.
“I didn’t do anything!” Harry snapped, yanking his arm free. “I found her like that. I was trying to help her!”
Theo’s eyes narrowed, stepping closer. “If you’re lying…”
“I’m not,” Harry said, his frustration boiling over. He shoved Theo back, his hands tightening into fists. “Now get out of my way.”
Without another word, Harry stormed off as he made his way to the Great Hall, his mind still racing with unanswered questions.
As he disappeared down the corridor, Blaise’s cold voice echoed after him. “If it turns out you did do something to her, Potter, I’ll hex you. Or worse.”
Harry didn’t look back, but the threat hung in the air like a dark cloud, casting a shadow over the tense silence that followed.
Meanwhile, Snape and Draco continued toward the infirmary. Draco walked close to Snape, his face pale with worry, his gaze never leaving Maria’s still figure. Snape, for his part, remained silent, his expression unreadable as he carried her through the dimly lit corridors.
Draco stirred awake, blinking in confusion as he took in his surroundings. His neck ached, and he realized he’d fallen asleep in a hard, uncomfortable chair. Slowly, the events of the day came rushing back—the strange way they’d found Maria, her vice-like grip on Harry’s arm, and the moment she collapsed unconscious.
He glanced across the dimly lit hospital wing, his eyes settling on the figure lying motionless in the bed. Maria was still fast asleep, her chest rising and falling steadily. The faint moonlight streaming through the tall windows cast pale shadows across the room, and judging by the quiet stillness, it had to be well past midnight.
Draco’s stomach let out a growl, reminding him that he’d missed dinner. But food didn’t matter right now. Maria did. His eyes stayed locked on her, the concern gnawing at him more than his hunger.
He was surprised Madam Pomfrey hadn’t thrown him out by now. He’d been prepared for a fight earlier when she insisted he leave, but his stubborn refusal must have made an impression. Either that, or she’d simply resigned herself to his presence.
Maria shifted beneath the sheets, a soft whimper escaping her lips as her hand began to clench the fabric beneath her. Draco was instantly alert, leaning forward in his chair.
“Maria,” he whispered, reaching out to gently shake her arm. Her body trembled, a shuddering breath escaping her as her eyes fluttered open.
At the sight of him, tears welled up in her eyes, and before he could say another word, she began to cry—soft, broken sobs that pierced through the quiet of the infirmary.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Draco murmured, his voice low and soothing. He leaned closer, desperate to comfort her, but she shook her head, her face twisting with anguish.
“I want my mum,” she choked out between sobs, her voice trembling.
Draco’s heart sank at her words, his own helplessness settling over him like a weight. For a moment, he didn’t know what to say. His throat tightened as he reached out, placing a tentative hand on her shoulder.
“I know,” he whispered, though it felt like a hollow reassurance. He wished he could promise her that everything would be fine, that her mother would appear at her bedside in an instant. But he couldn’t. And that realization made his own worry deepen.
Awkwardly, Draco reached out, hesitating for a moment before gently taking her hand and helping her sit up. Shifting from his chair to her bedside, he moved with an uncharacteristic uncertainty, unsure if this was really the right thing to do. But he knew she needed it.
With a stiff breath, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a careful embrace. This wasn’t something he did—comforting people—but Maria was different. She clung to him, her fingers twisting into the fabric of his sweater, clutching it tightly as her sobs grew heavier.
Draco swallowed, feeling the weight of the moment, and though it wasn’t in his nature, he held her just a little closer, hoping it would help.
Draco held her close, the weight of the moment sinking in as her sobs began to quiet. The warmth of the room, the soft crackle of the fire in the distance, and the rhythmic sound of her breathing filled the silence between them. Slowly, her grip on his sweater loosened, though she remained nestled against him, her exhaustion finally catching up.
He sighed, unsure of what else to do, but for now, it seemed enough.
As he glanced down at her, Draco noticed her breathing had evened out, her tear-streaked face now peaceful in the dim light. He gently maneuvered both of them, careful not to wake her, and he rested his back against the bedpost, still keeping her close.
The quiet stillness was present around them, like the calm after a storm, and for a moment, everything felt…still.
Draco’s gaze drifted toward the window, where the moonlight streamed softly through the glass panes. The night outside was calm, almost serene, a stark contrast to the turmoil Maria had been through. He closed his eyes, the warmth of the room and the steady rhythm of her breathing lulling him into a state of peace.
The soft crackling of the fire and the gentle sounds of their breathing filled the room, and slowly, everything seemed to blur together, the edges of the moment growing softer, as if fading into something quieter.