Chapter 13
Hermione didn’t sleep that night. She stayed up thinking over her conversation with Altaire, considering all her options. She didn’t trust her. Not yet… But it was clear the witch had a lot of information, more than Hermione could have ever found out on her own. There was more she was holding back as well. She’d made that clear.
Was it a risk worth taking, to bring her into their fold?
She thought of Harry. How would he react to all of this? He was under enough stress as it was, especially after tonight. She was barely digesting all of this as it was… Harry was a ticking time bomb, fragile… Bringing a Malfoy into their plans, let alone two… he wouldn’t take it well. No… of that she was quite sure.
And speaking of Malfoy… she recalled Altaire’s words about her brother.
“Once he decides that you’re his to protect, he’ll douse himself in Fiendfyre and let the flames burn out his soul before he lets you come in harm’s way.”
Altaire’s assessment of her brother was… something…intense… dangerous…
She’d always known Malfoy as an entitled prick. Prejudiced, bigoted, spoiled. But her prefect rounds with the Slytherin had opened her eyes to a different side to the blonde wizard than she’d been privy to previously.
He was intense. Manipulative, certainly, calculating, cold… But he’d given her a heads up that someone was feeding Umbridge information about her, about the DA… someone that wasn’t him… if he was to be trusted at all. He’d warned her to be smarter. He’d… helped her?
Hermione sucked on her teeth, frowning in frustration.
The very essence of her being couldn’t come to terms with the idea of Malfoy wanting to help her in any way. She could only imagine that this was some sort of trick, a ploy to ‘put her in her place’, to humiliate her, toy with her.
Yet Altaire had mentioned twice now that Malfoy was more than she’d led herself to believe.
“He regrets it.”
Hermione scoffed. It sounded fantastical that Malfoy might regret anything about treating her as despicably as he’d done throughout their years at Hogwarts. And yet… he was different this year. Not so… hateful? He hadn’t called her any names this year, or at least that name. He still disparaged her, irritated her beyond comprehension… but it was almost… playful? Joking? She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but his words didn’t carry the same barb that had been directed at her in his earlier years. Or perhaps he wasn’t different. Perhaps all those hours of silent patrolling in the late hours was betraying a side to Malfoy she hadn’t been able to see before. It wasn’t like she’d ever bothered to get to know him until now. He’d just been that caricature villain in the background of her life. Someone that she, Harry and Ron bonded over complaining about, finding enjoyment in hating…
“My brother isn’t just some one-dimensional bigot you’ve got yourself believing that he is. You needed an enemy, and he gave you a good reason to find him as one…”
A distant ringing of the bell signaled the morning.
Hermione sighed, drawing back the curtains above her bed to allow some of the daylight to peak through, as she got up to dress for breakfast.
It was no use thinking to herself. It was all too confusing. She’d talk to Harry. Rip the plaster off, so to speak.
Even though she saw him every day, she missed her best friend. They’d fallen into a pattern of solemn silence the past few weeks, only really talking when an upcoming DA meeting needed organising, the occasional bitch session about Umbridge, the sporadic updates about Sirius. Harry was too tense, on edge, defensive… ready to be set off at any moment. She didn’t blame him. The school was still ablaze with rumours about Harry and the events of the summer. Harry’s constant outbursts in Umbridge’s classes didn’t help. People stared, the whispers were more like outright chatter, and the hostility in their own house, spearheaded by Seamus spread like poison in their day-to-day lives.
She felt a pang of guilt.
It had been easier to avoid the difficult conversation, rather than fight through it with him. She’d been distracted with Malfoy’s sister and her curious offer. It wasn’t a good excuse though; she could admit that to herself. Harry needed her, now more than ever, and she was stalling. She’d talk to him today.
Sweeping some of the dust off her covers, she straightened her uniform, running a careless hand through her tangled curls before setting off to the Great Hall.
….
Breakfast was a solemn affair. News had already broken throughout the school that Mr. Weasley had been found near-death at the Ministry the night before, and the absence of the red-haired clan was visibly noticeable from the Gryffindor table.
Harry sat next to Hermione, his face pale and dark circles tattooed under his eyes. He jumped at the smallest noise, looking around furtively, as if waiting to be jumped at any moment.
He’d caught her up on everything that had happened the night before. Hermione had reacted in shock when he informed her that he’d spent the night in Snape’s quarters, trying and failing at learning Occlumency from the ever-foul tempered professor. Harry himself was disgruntled, stating that it was an impossible task. Nonetheless, he was to take lessons from Snape every evening until he was proficient, and Hermione gave Harry an encouraging hug, silently feeling relief that she wasn’t the one who had to spend every night with their grouchy potions master for the foreseeable future.
Hermione made a conscious effort not to stare at the Ravenclaw table, trying and failing to catch a glimpse of a certain dark-haired witch as she glanced up between bites of her cereal. Her eyes travelled cautiously to the Slytherin table. Malfoy was also nowhere to be found; his absence notable amongst the throng of his usual crowd.
Parkinson sat staring sullenly at her plate, mindlessly pushing around some eggs with her fork. With no pale blonde wizard to hang onto as she usually did during meals, the girl seemed to be in her own world, occasionally nodding tiredly at whatever Goyle and looked like he'd rather be anywhere else. She gazed adoringly at him, glassy eyed, while he stared straight ahead, completely disengaged from the conversation.
Suddenly, she caught Nott’s eye, her heart jumping as his green eyes pierced her. A slow smirk formed on his lips as he tilted his head, raising his brows in a silent challenge.
His words from their last meeting still lingered in her mind… his ominous warning to stay away from Altaire… She hadn’t listened. She’d never planned on it to begin with, but his presence was still unsettling. He was always watching her, like a serpent lying in wait, and she wondered just how much Nott really knew about the girl he was so possessive over. Did he know that Altaire had sought her out? That she’d offered up her alliance? Where did he place in all of this?
Altaire had brought up Malfoy willingly, even confirming her friendship with the Zabini boy, but Nott… she’d never mentioned him.
“She’s everything.”
Those were his words. But what was he to her?
“Who are you looking at so intensely?”
Harry’s querying voice broke her from her musings, and she quickly averted her eyes, not wishing to provoke further conversations about the matter from either of the two green-eyed wizards.
“Oh, no one, just uh…people watching,” she muttered, flashing Harry a quick smile.
“Actually Harry, there was something I wanted to talk to you about.” Hermione took a deep breath, unsure of how to breach the topic with Harry.
“What is it ‘Mione?” Harry asked, sounding tired.
She gave him an awkward smile, biting her lips anxiously. “I uh- If I asked you to just trust me on something, would you?” she asked tentatively.
Harry frowned at her, confused. “I trust you with my life.”
Hermione let out a shaky laugh, tugging at the ends of her hair. “Yes, well… I really need to tell you something… but you have to promise me that you won’t blow up on me until you’ve heard me through.”
“I don’t blow up -“ Harry began hotly before flashing her a sheepish smile as Hermione gave him a pointed look. “Oh alright.” He sighed, his shoulders slumping back down. “I promise I won’t prematurely lose my head. Out with it then, you’ve got my attention.”
Hermione gulped, staring nervously around the Hall to see if anyone was paying attention to them. In fact, a large proportion of the student body were staring, whispering to one another. She caught the tail end of some of the whispers, “Weasleys-“, “Their father’s dead!”, “I’m telling you; Potter’s cursed!”, “It’s probably just another attention seeking lie.”
Hermione scowled fiercely at the three Gryffindor second years responsible for the last line, huddled together at the end of their table. The youngsters had the decency to look away in shame when they caught her glowering.
“Not here, come with me.” She said hurriedly, pulling Harry’s arm.
Harry acquiesced; his face filled with questions as he stood up to follow her.
They both ignored the pointed stares as they filed out of the hall, Hermione finding the courage to send one last withering glare behind her as she marched out, slamming the door behind her.
…
Having walked around the cloisters for a few minutes, they finally found an empty bench in an abandoned alcove below McGonagall’s office. As they sat, Hermione cast a quick silencing charm around them for extra measure.
“Out with it then.” Harry said, looking at her impatiently.
“Alright.” She gulped, flashing him a weak smile. “Just remember, you promised to hear me out before going all nuclear.”
Harry snorted, waving his hand in agreement. “You better not be about to tell me you’ve secretly been harbouring a crush on Dudley all these years.”
Hermione was too nervous to join in Harry’s laughter, instead taking a few breaths to calm herself.
Noticing Harry’s eyes widening in horror, Hermione slapped his chest lightly, giving him a disgusted look. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she hissed, shuddering to herself as she thought of Harry’s barely-of-human-intelligence cousin.
“I- it’s about Malfoy.”
Harry immediately straightened, the teasing amusement leaving his face.
“What’s he done?” he started; his tone harsh.
“No, nothing. He’s done nothing.” She said quickly, waving off Harry’s apprehensive glare. “It’s- uh, well… Just remember you promised to hear me out!”
Harry grunted impatiently; his eyes narrowed.
“Ok so… well firstly, did you know Malfoy had a sister?”
…
It took Hermione nearly half an hour to relay to Harry the full story. She didn’t leave anything out, starting from her conversation with Luna, her tense encounters with Malfoy on patrols, and finally her two run ins with Altaire.
To his credit, Harry remained silent, letting Hermione ramble nervously without making any interruptions, although his expression grew more serious as she spoke. Finally, when she brought up Altaire’s proposition, Harry took a sharp breath, shooting Hermione an incredulous look.
“You can’t be serious.” He said when she’d finally finished.
“Deadly so.” Hermione retorted, feeling a little defensive at his incredulity. “She has a point.”
“It’s Malfoy!” Harry exclaimed angrily. “She’s a Malfoy! They’re evil!”
Hermione winced at his loud shouting, shooting him an exasperated glare. “I know she’s a Malfoy, Harry. But didn’t you hear anything I just said? It doesn’t seem like a black and white situation. You could at least hear her out. She has a point you know. There’s so much that we don’t know, that we’d never find out unless we had someone on the inside.”
Harry glared back at her mutinously, “Still, she’s a Malfoy.” He grumbled, spitting out her name as if he’d swallowed a dung-bomb. “We didn’t even know she existed until now! How can I possibly trust anything that comes out of her mouth? How can you? How do you even know she’s really Malfoy’s sister? Maybe she’s a spy they planted in school to try and infiltrate us… to- to get to the Order!”
Hermione sighed in exasperation, rolling her eyes. “You’re not serious.” She said snidely, pursing her lips. “You think the Malfoys sent a fake daughter to Hogwarts to spy on you?”
Harry pouted obstinately, crossing his arms. “You never know. They’re Malfoys,” he grumbled.
“If they wanted to spy on you, I think they’d use more sophisticated methods than sending in a child with the name Malfoy to befriend us, Harry,” she retorted.
“Whatever. I don’t trust her.” He responded in a childish tone.
“I don’t either.” Hermione replied reassuringly. “Not yet anyways. But she made some good points, and I think it’s worth exploring it further. I told you, she said she knew how Voldemort made himself immortal, how he’s stayed alive all this time. We should at least find out what she knows, no?” She looked at Harry with pleading eyes, gently nudging his shoulder.
“Fine.” He said finally, his tone reluctant. “I guess you have a point…”
Hermione sighed with relief, throwing her arms around Harry in excitement.
“Thank you thank you thank you!” she squealed as Harry batted her off him.
“I’m not agreeing with you, ‘Mione.” He responded; his eyes still narrowed. “I think this is a mistake. But… I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to meet her – at least see what she has to say.”
“My thoughts exactly!” she said triumphantly, making to rise from the bench. “I’ll arrange a meet tonight.”
Harry rolled his eyes, giving her a disgruntled nod. “Alright. But I’m telling you now if she tries any funny business-“
“I know, I know. You’ll hold it over my head how I was wrong, and you were right till the end of time,” she teased, beaming at the scowling boy. “Come on, Umbridge’s class is going to start, and I don’t fancy another round of detentions before the holidays start.”
Feeling a rush of relief at Harry’s acquiescence, Hermione took his arm, excitement thudding inside her.