Chapter 10
Hermione
It was a close call—Ron had nearly discovered her secret. A secret that had to remain hidden, at least for now. Malfoy had come dangerously close to exposing her with the way he taunted Ron, his sneering words laced with insinuations. Exhausted from the day’s events, Hermione climbed the tower steps toward her dormitory, her limbs heavy with fatigue. It had been an incredibly long day—brewing potions for their group assignment, poring over countless books, and conducting meticulous research. Every task had demanded her full focus, leaving her drained. Reaching her bed at last, she pulled back the covers and drew the curtains closed around her four-poster, seeking a moment of solitude. With a deep breath, she allowed herself to relax, though her mind remained restless. Secrets were dangerous, and tonight had been far too close for comfort.
Morning had come, sunlight spilling through the tall windows of the Gryffindor dormitory as Hermione stirred awake. Stretching with a satisfied sigh, she quickly slipped into a comfortable yet tidy outfit before making her way to the Great Hall. The warm scent of fresh bread and roasted sausages filled the air as she entered, the low hum of chatter weaving through the vast space.
At the Gryffindor table, she spotted Ron and Harry already seated, deep into their breakfast—Harry absently poking at his eggs while Ron eagerly shoveled food onto his plate. It was a quiet Sunday morning, a rare moment of peace before the day’s events unfolded. Harry had Quidditch practice, and Ron, as expected, would be watching from the stands, eager to cheer on their best friend. That left Hermione with the perfect window of opportunity to work on their potions project. She had already informed both boys about their brewing plans for the day, making sure they were prepared for the task ahead.
As she finished the last bite of her warm, buttered bagel, Hermione wiped her hands, slung her book bag over her shoulder, and stood up. She cast a knowing glance at Harry and Ron, offering them a small, confident smile.
“I’ll see you both later,” she said, her tone laced with anticipation. With that, she turned on her heel and strode out of the Great Hall, ready to immerse herself in the one thing she loved most—magic.
⋆˙⟡
“What are you two whispering about?” Hermione asked, arching an eyebrow as she strode toward the potions table they had reserved for the day.
“Nothing,” Theo replied quickly, taking a small step back from Draco, who gave him a pointed look.
Hermione narrowed her eyes, unimpressed. “Honestly, you both sound like the gossiping girls from Gryffindor.” She rolled her eyes and set her bag down with a soft thud, beginning to unpack. She neatly arranged her quill, parchment, and notes on a clear section of the table, preparing for the brewing ahead.
Without another word, the three of them began working, each focused on their own task. Despite sharing the same table, they were brewing separate versions of the same potion. One worked with an older formula from past revisions, another tackled the original Winggenweld potion—the first known iteration, crude but effective. The third followed the modern adaptation, refined by contemporary potion masters and taught at Hogwarts today.
The quiet clinks of glassware and the soft bubbling of cauldrons filled the air, a calm rhythm in the otherwise silent classroom, each of them immersed in the delicate art of potion-making.
They've spent their entire day testing the ingredients and writing down what the results. Thank Merlin for Theo and Draco that had thought of packing some snacks, otherwise I'd forgotten to eat.
The sun had long dipped below the horizon, casting a deep indigo hue over the castle as the torches lining the dungeon walls flickered gently. Hermione finally called it a day, her shoulders aching and her hand sore from all the revisions she'd made to their paper. It wasn't due for another three weeks, but she knew how quickly time slipped away at Hogwarts. Getting it out of the way now would ease the ever-growing weight of her to-do list.
She packed her belongings with a tired sigh, rubbing her wrist before slinging her book bag over her shoulder. With a small smile, she waved goodbye to Theo and Draco, who lingered behind, mentioning they'd stop by their common room before dinner.
That left Hermione alone as she made her way toward the Great Hall. Her footsteps echoed softly against the cold stone floor, and for a moment, the quiet was almost comforting—until something shifted in the corner of her eye.
She froze.
Just beyond the shadows near the dungeon wall, she thought she saw movement—something low, slinking, as if it were watching. A chill crawled up her spine. But she quickly shook her head. This was Hogwarts, after all. Strange things always lurked in corners, and she knew better than to go chasing shadows.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she muttered to herself.
Still, she couldn't suppress the unease completely. Tightening her grip on her bag, Hermione quickened her pace, ascending the staircase with longer strides, eager to leave the dungeons—and whatever might be down there—far behind her.
⋆˙⟡
"Hey, Harry," Hermione greeted warmly, slipping into the empty seat between him and Ginny. "How was practice?"
Harry snorted and adjusted his glasses before reaching for a serving spoon. "Really? You're asking about Quidditch?"
She smirked as she reached for the mashed potatoes. "Well, what else would I ask? You’ve been at the pitch all day, haven’t you?"
"Nothing exciting, honestly. Just a lot of drills. Wood’s convinced we’ve got a strong chance against Hufflepuff in the next match." He shoveled a large spoonful of mash into his mouth with enthusiasm.
"Wow, that’s great, Harry." She smiled faintly, though her eyes stayed fixed on her plate as she added a few vegetables and slices of roast to it.
Moments later, Ron arrived at the table, grumbling under his breath.
“What’s wrong, Ron?” Harry asked, shifting over to make room for him.
Ron didn’t answer right away. Instead, he shot Hermione a glare. “You ask her!”
Hermione blinked. “What’s this about now, Ronald?” she said, rolling her eyes with exasperation.
“Your bloody cat! That’s what’s going on!” he snapped, voice rising.
His red hair seemed to glow even brighter as his frustration peaked. Heads turned at nearby tables, curious glances landing on them. Hermione felt heat rush to her cheeks—mortified wasn’t even close to what she felt. If there were a hole in the floor, she would’ve gladly disappeared into it.
Harry’s eyes darted around nervously. “Ron,” he said in a hushed, calm voice, “M-maybe you should sit down and… maybe lower your voice? Just a bit?”
Ron glanced around and noticed the stares. His ears turned a furious pink, and he sat down with a frustrated sigh, grumbling under his breath.
Hermione caught the sound of Harry shushing him—just a touch more sharply this time—and couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto her lips. Despite the embarrassment, there was something oddly comforting about the predictability of her friends' antics.
Dinner had been both delightful and utterly exhausting—especially with Ron’s poorly timed outburst about his sodding rat. As Hermione climbed the stairs toward the Gryffindor common room, she muttered under her breath, “I wish Crookshanks would just put that damn rat out of its misery already.”
“What was that?” came Ron’s voice from just behind her. He wasn’t alone—Dean, Seamus, Harry, and Neville were trailing him up the steps.
Hermione didn’t respond. Instead, she picked up her pace, hoping to avoid yet another argument. But as they reached the corridor leading to the common room, she slowed, noticing a crowd had formed near the entrance.
“Parvati, what’s going on?” Hermione asked, trying to peer over the heads of the older students blocking her view.
“It’s the Fat Lady—she’s gone!” Ginny’s voice rang out as she rushed over, eyes wide with alarm.
A sharp command suddenly cut through the buzz of panicked murmurs. “Out of my way!” Professor Dumbledore’s voice rang with authority as he approached, flanked by Professors McGonagall and Filch.
Hermione stepped aside, watching as the students parted. One of the portraits nearby must’ve gone to report what happened, she thought. Or maybe one of the ghosts had found her and alerted the headmaster.
“Mr. Filch, round up the ghosts and search every portrait,” Dumbledore said calmly.
“There’s no need, Professor!” Filch barked, pointing down the corridor. “She’s right there!”
All eyes turned toward a painting further down the hallway, where the Fat Lady was cowering behind a curtain in another frame. “My lady,” Dumbledore said gently, “Who did this to you?”
The Fat Lady whimpered, her expression full of fear—something Hermione didn’t think portraits were capable of feeling. “It was him, Headmaster! Sirius Black!”A collective gasp swept through the hallway.
“Everyone—to the Great Hall!” Dumbledore ordered. His voice was still calm, but firm.
Black had tried to enter the Gryffindor common room. And though he hadn’t succeeded, the message was clear—he could have.
“Come on, everyone, you heard the Headmaster! Move along!” Percy barked, waving his arms to herd the students down the stairs.
Hermione followed the flow of bodies heading for the Great Hall, only to feel herself pulled aside near the foot of the stairs. She turned, finding herself face to face with none other than her brother, Theo, and Draco Malfoy beside him, arms folded, watching silently.
“What happened?” Theo asked, his brow creased with concern.
“Sirius Black tried to break into our common room,” Hermione said plainly. There was no point in sugarcoating it.
Theo ran a hand down his face and pinched the bridge of his nose, still gripping her arm protectively. “And?” he pressed. “Snape hasn’t said a word to us. Not a bloody thing.”
Hermione shrugged. “Maybe it’s for the best?”
“I don’t like this,” Theo muttered, jaw tight. “You’re not even safe in your own common room now.”
Hermione offered a half-smile, trying to calm him down. “But he didn’t get in, Theo.”
“Even so.” He hesitated, then glanced behind his shoulder before sighing heavily. “I heard they’re not enforcing any strict sleeping arrangements in the Great Hall. But Gryffindor and Slytherin are going to be beside each other.”
He paused again, and his next words came out softer. “Just… sleep near the Slytherins, alright? I want to be able to check that you’re okay.”
Hermione frowned. “What’s Black got to do with me—with us?”
“Nothing,” Theo said quickly. “Just… I’ll see you in a bit, alright?” He gave her shoulder a gentle pat and walked off with Draco.
Hermione watched them go, feeling a strange mixture of warmth and unease. She had always wondered what it might be like to have a brother—someone to look out for her. She never imagined she’d end up with one, let alone one like Theo. Considering what he’d been through—the loss of their mother, the cruelty of their father, being taken in by the Malfoys—it made sense that he was so protective. To Theo, Hermione wasn’t just his sister. She was the only real, blood related family he had left.
She was grateful, too, that Theo hadn’t brought up the ridiculous scene with Ron earlier at dinner.
As she continued down the corridor, she spotted Percy speaking earnestly with Professor McGonagall. She waited patiently until Percy walked off, then stepped forward, clearing her throat.
“Professor McGonagall?” she asked quietly. “May I speak with you about the sleeping arrangements tonight?”
⋆˙⟡
Here’s a smoother and more immersive version of your scene, with improved grammar, clearer structure, and a bit more emotional depth:
To her surprise, Professor McGonagall had allowed her to take the very last sleeping bag—though, judging by the way the seventh-year prefect beside her nodded, it seemed more like it had been reserved for her. Hermione suspected Theo might’ve had something to do with it, and her suspicions were confirmed when she spotted a familiar group of Slytherins approaching.
Of course. Theo must’ve spoken with Professor Snape, arranging for them to sleep near the Gryffindors. It hadn’t even occurred to her that she might end up beside them, but here they were, calmly settling down next to her. She rolled her eyes fondly, a soft smile tugging at her lips. Theo was really taking this whole big brother thing seriously.
As he unrolled his sleeping bag beside hers, he offered her a quick glance, a silent check-in, to which she responded with a small nod. Draco took the spot on Theo’s other side, already pretending not to be interested in the entire situation. Zabino and Greengrass settled in nearby, chatting in low whispers that barely registered.
Hermione let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Being surrounded by Slytherins of all people should have felt strange, but it didn’t—not anymore. Not with Theo there. It made her feel safe.
Not that she was in any real danger, she told herself. Not yet, anyway. But Sirius Black hadn’t tried to get into the Gryffindor common room by accident. He was after something… or someone. And that made her stomach twist with unease.
Whatever it was, tonight was a reminder that no one at Hogwarts was untouchable—not even behind enchanted doors and magical portraits.
And as she glanced sideways at Theo, who had already slipped into sleep, she realized something else: she wasn't facing any of this alone.
The Great Hall had fallen into an uneasy hush.
Candles floated dimly overhead, their flames flickering like nervous whispers in the vast space. Most students had already drifted into sleep, bundled in sleeping bags that formed rows of colorful cocoons across the stone floor. Professors stood on quiet watch near the doors, their eyes never fully closing.
Hermione lay on her back, staring up at the enchanted ceiling. Tonight, it mirrored the sky outside—cloudy, with only a few stars peeking through. She clutched the edge of her sleeping bag, listening to the distant creak of castle walls and the occasional soft snore from a Hufflepuff third year.
She turned her head slightly and caught sight of Theo. His chest rose and fell steadily, one arm tucked under his head, his other hand resting close to his wand. Always ready, she thought with a fond frown.
Theo wasn’t one to sleep deeply when he thought there was even a sliver of risk.
Just beyond him, Draco lay motionless, a bit too stiff to be comfortable. Hermione wasn’t sure if he was asleep or just pretending. Most Slytherins had that habit of keeping up appearances, even when unconsciousness seemed preferable to anxiety.
Hermione rolled over onto her side, facing away from the rest. Her mind was full, too full to sleep.
Black.
The name echoed with too much weight.
She knew the history. Everyone did. He betrayed the Potters. He was the reason Harry grew up without a family. He escaped Azkaban—a prison no one had ever escaped from. And now he was here… in Hogwarts.
Looking for Harry? Maybe he wants to finish the job he had started?
Her fingers unconsciously tightened around her blanket. Her thoughts drifted to Harry, just a few sleeping bags away, safe for now—but for how long?
"You're still awake," came a soft voice beside her.
She didn’t flinch. She knew it was Theo.
"Couldn't sleep," she whispered.
A pause. Then, "Me neither."
She turned slightly to look over her shoulder. Theo was propped up on one elbow, watching her, his expression unreadable in the dim light.
"He's not going to get to you," he said quietly.
Hermione blinked. "Me?"
"Potter's a magnet for trouble; naturally, he'll be after you, too," he said, pausing for a bit. "He won't get past me, if he does come after you too." Theo added firmly.
Hermione felt a rush of warmth in her chest, touched by his certainty—even if it was a little irrational.
"I know," she whispered. And somehow… she meant it.
Theo laid back down again but didn’t close his eyes. He stayed like that for a long time—watching the ceiling, just like she had, keeping silent vigil in the darkness.
And slowly, finally, Hermione let her eyes drift shut.
For now, sleep took her. She was safe, surrounded by enemies who were no longer enemies, protected by a brother she never expected to have.
And slowly, finally, Hermione let her eyes drift shut.
For now, sleep took her. She was safe, surrounded by enemies who were no longer enemies, protected by a brother she never expected to have.