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“The Triwizard Tournament will be held here, at Hogwarts this year. The tournament has not commenced for the last hundred years, to celebrate this feat, Dumstrang and Beauxbatons will be coming in a week. There will be one successor from each school in which will go ahead and compete in three tournaments for the school year. The winner will receive a cup, 1000 Galleons and 'eternal glory'. This is an inter-school magical tournament, so put your name into the goblet of fire wisely. Only those that are over 17 will be able to nominate themselves on a piece of paper.”
Hermione turned in her seat, eyes wide as she, Harry and Ron all gasped in bewilderment. Never had she met a foreign Wizard, not even in Hogsmeade.
“Are you going to do it Hermione? Put your name in?” Ron asked joyously, nudging her.
“Yeah if we can’t do it, surely you do it.” Harry joked, imitating the goofy face Ron was pulling.
“I don’t think I need any more distractions this year. I'm sure the twins can carry on your glory for you.”
“I knew you’d say something prig to say like that.” Ron cawed, stretching out his legs under the table as his arms flew into the air.
Hermione shot a look at Ginny, did both of them truly think like that? Hermione waved back at Ginny as she grinned at her sheepishly; neither had spoken to each other since the party fiasco, though Hermione had expected she had been obligated, perhaps their argument hadn’t been erased.
“Don’t talk about people like that Ron.” Harry chided.
“I’m not applying either.” Neville fessed up, his round face bobbing as he munched on a bowl of oats.
“You have to be 17 to apply, Neville, but I do appreciate the sentiment.” Hermione said sincerely, patting him on the shoulder.
“Well, we better be off to potions shouldn’t we Hermione?” Harry asked pointedly, his head tilting towards the doorway as an indication to leave.
“Right.”
She mumbled her farewell to the Gryffindor table and followed Harry out of the great hall. The tournament weighed on her mind heavily as she trudged through the halls, ignoring ghosts and peers alike as she focused on her thoughts. Not only would Hogwarts be hosting all three trials, but they would be hosting other school students too! Would any of them integrate into the Hogwart classes? Did they too have to study for their NEWTS? Mind reeling, she barely noticed as her foot caught on another, falling helplessly in front of herself.
“Get off the floor Miss Granger.” A voice scoffed.
It couldn’t have been any other than Severus Snape. His robe was always adorned with a cape, twirling dramatically behind him in a whirlwind. Each step he took was as melodramatic as his drawing voice. Potion class was perhaps one of the most intriguing, yet it suspiciously had the greatest amount of Slytherin and least Gryffindor of any other class.
“Are you alright Hermione?” Harry asked, helping her onto her feet as he glared at Snape.
Snape and Harry had never gotten along, although she never knew the distinct reason why. She doubted his prejudice stemmed from nothing. The depressed hag was bitter, but not stupid. Harry thrived when making Snape miserable, and as the years progressed, it seemed to become a mutualism.
“I’m okay, thanks Harry. I just got lost in thought.”
Harry rolled his eyes dramatically and held out his arms to the doorway. “Ladies first.”
“You must bow down to me as I walk by, peasant.” Hermione laughed, pushing Harry in with her.
“Why of course O’ holiness. Let me atone for my many a’sin.”
“You can start by -” Hermione cut herself off quickly, her heart beginning to thud as she registered Blaise sitting at the back of the class.
How had she forgotten? Fear raced through her body, she could feel the goosebumps raise on her skin as she stood frozen. Unmoveable. Yet this time it wasn’t against her will.
She was afraid of Blaise. Of his prejudice.
No one had ever turned on her before, most definitely not in a tortuous sense due to her blood status regardless. Words were fuel for a fire, but his actions had been torture.
Hermione hadn’t been truly afraid for a long time. At the very least, she hadn’t experienced the emptiness in ehr mind to allow her to feel afraid. She had never been alone. Her conscience had always supported her.
Now it was just empty, her mouth hung open and her wand pointed.
“Hermione. You can put down your wand. Are you sure you are okay? It looks like you just saw a ghost.”
Bonus points for the humour, Harry, she thought.
Blaise simply ignored her, rolling his shoulders back lazily and eyeing the doorway. His face remained nonchalant, though his deep-set eyes seemed full of anger. The dark burned hot as coal, unblinking as he stayed still. It was scary how much the eyes could reveal.
Hermione was ushered to her seat besides Harry, his fussing fell upon deaf ears. She felt insanely hot. Slimy even. She could feel her veins being squished as she sat there, blood not able to flow around her body. Under the chatter of the awaiting class, she swore there was hissing.
“Flip to page 36, Bezoars.” Snape drawled as he dropped a textbook onto his teaching podium.
Hermione came to the haunting realisation that the silver trio would be in the majority of her classes. Last week she had been so keen to bury herself into her studies and ignore the existence of Draco Malfoy, that she hadn’t comprehended that other people existed in class too. That their presence was very known. The rest of the day zoomed by, chatter had spread through the school regarding the Goblet of Fire and where it could be found.
Fred and George had attempted to sell ageing candy to the younger years: their pockets full as they ran down the halls, hooting with laughter. The effects had been near impossible to reverse by Madame Pomfrey, having been permanent for two days the boys concluded in Mrs Mcgonicals office. Though Hermione thoroughly doubted two days stuck as a withering wizard would only be an inconvenience for two whole days.
Her meeting with Mrs Umbridge and Malfoy was tonight as well. All through dinner she struggled to keep her appetite, checking her watch every few seconds anxiously.
Malfoy hadn’t appeared at dinner or any classes today. Part of her hoped he was sick, unable to come to the meeting and therefore it would have to be called off. A larger part knew that Mrs Umbridge wouldn’t miss the opportunity to ruffle them for a small flu or something alike.
“I’m going to head back early. I’ll see you guys in the common room later?” She asked, shifting her eyes between both Harry and Ron.
“Oh yes please. We have so much study to do, I really need your help with some things.” Harry grinned and Ron nodded enthusiastically beside him.
Hermione bit her tongue, not daring to say a word as she left. Prig, Prude… how could they call her such terrible things yet the only value she held to them was to help with their studies? Did they not realise the hypocriticism that fell from their lips? They were supposed to be best friends, not friends of convenience.
It was just an off day. Her moods as of late had been vacious and wild. Studying had become slightly disjointed by the emotional wrath that overcame her some nights. She peeled back her sleeve, wincing as she traced the runes on her skin. They had grown painful and terribly itchy. No matter how many books she studied, nothing had come up. She also had a running theory that she was the only one able to see them. She had run from the bedroom to the bathroom the other night, bumped into Lavender who only scoffed and trailed past her. No one else had seen her bare skin since the incident but it was an odd comfort at least. If anyone else saw them, it would only add to her list of freakish and weird things.
She knocked on Mrs Umbridges door. In an instance it flew open, the heavy wood groaning loudly as it swung with force. Hermione grabbed her stomach, physically having to hold her stomach to stop bile from escaping. The room was so pink. The carpet, the walls, the chair… even the disgusting framed photos of dogs that hung from behind her desk on the wall. What even were they? She couldn’t tell if they were finely crafted china with prints on top or rounded picture frames. Even as Dolores Umbridge sat in her chair, poised with a mug looking as innocent as possible, she couldn’t mistake the smell of blood. It was strong, flooding over the scent of coffee and sickly sweet perfume. The metallic tang was thick in her airways, clouding her eyes as they watered.
“Where is Malfoy?” Hermione asked, coughing into her arm as she desperately tried to rid of the heavy air.
“Why do you mean Draco Malfoy? Or perhaps his mother, Narcissa Malfoy? Or even Master Malfoy, Lucius?” The older lady asked, batting her lashes as she hunched over the desk.
“Draco.” Hermione hissed, searching the room for any sign of him. He had been here. The witch had no proof but a feeling weighed in her consciousness, she simply just knew.
“Ah the coward of a human. Stormed in here demanding that the engagement was called off. He said a few nasty things I didn’t agree with so I saw fit for the respectable punishment.”
“What did you say that riled him up so horribly?”
“Well. I explained that an engagement isn’t just an affair with any young lady. I need progress. I need these hopeless muggle traits of your blood to infuse with the Malfoys hereditary magic. But consummation seemed to rub him the wrong way, as was expected but it is a known fact you both agreed to when you put on those rings of yours.”
“Consummation?” Hermione murmured, her cheeks reddening with realisation.“I thought the engagement was simply all that was expected. You require a marriage between the two of us?”
“For such a smart Witch, I do find you can be incredibly dull at times.”
“You can’t force us to have - do - intercourse- for some stupid trial of law!”
“I have no regard for my subjects, I only care for the end result.”
“He isn’t even allowed to use magic outside of Hogwarts classes and yet you expect me to marry him? We haven’t even graduated from school.”
“Ask your dear Mrs Malfoy, she was in an arranged marriage much younger than you and for much less of a cause.”
Hermione felt the air thicken to the point where it was difficult to breathe as she panicked. “I can’t do it. How do I stop this?”
“You don’t. You came willingly, remember?” Mrs Umbridge cackled. “You have until the end of the month, and if you two do not hold up your end of this agreement, I will have to use force.”
The woman pulled out her wand, flicking it dramatically as she tore through Hermione’s robes, her blood was pulled from her body like strands of hair. She puked on the sickly pink carpet, almost glad she could ruin it.
“Now run along and find your Malfoy boy.”
Hermione was blasted out of the room with a tidal wind, the door slamming behind her and bolting shut. She had forgotten about the blood sampling. Her mind felt feather light as she languished down the hall, groaning as she realised she would need to use her wand to find Draco. As much as she loathed the weasel, she couldn’t ignore the dread that thumped in the core of her stomach. It screamed at her, her instincts ravaged as she fought with her mind. She placed a locating spell, visualising the albino eyesore and following the glow of her wand.
It led her all the way out of the castle, she barely even registered that her shoes were gone, discarded and she ran. Towards the river where Hagrid’s hut was.
“Draco!” She shouted, cringing as she used his first name. “Hello?”
Hermione staggered forwards, rolling down the hill rather ungraciously. Her face was dragged through stone and tough dirt that felt like cement. The path seemed so far away the longer she tumbled. With two hands, she dug into the earth, using her feet to assist with slowing the descent.
Her wand reappeared, blasting out light as she found Draco. A pile of tattered robes and dried blood. Was he even breathing? Her body ached profusely yet she pushed on, crawling towards Malfoy. Stilling as she felt for his breath and pulse. It was faint. But there.
“Draco Malfoy, open your eyes right now before I hex them.” Hermione sobbed, her own pain searing the more she tried to manoeuvre the boy in front of her.
With no response she shook his chest, her palm screaming in protest as his raw skin made contact with his bloodied chest. “Get up right now.”
She grabbed his hand, pulling it onto her face to sear in some warmth. He was so cold. Even his palm cupping her cheek couldn’t seem to steal any of her warmth. And she felt as if she were on fire.
He moaned in pain, clutching his hand away as she drove fingers into one of his wounds. He wasn’t dead. He wasn't dead. She pressed a gentle kiss on his forehead in gratitude, whipping the sweat away with her sleeve.
“I’m here now.” She whispered helplessly, laying beside him as her heart felt heavy.
“Granger?” He rumbled, his voice cracking as he struggled to open his eyes.
“I’m here.” She repeated.
“We need to get rid of this engagement.” He hissed, lips pulled in pain.
“Accio wand.” Hermione said, relishing the magic that pulsed through her arm.
She began to heal Draco’s wounds, too scared to truly look at them. There wasn’t much she could do without a blood replenishing potion or with her own injuries but it seemed to soothe some level of pain at least.
“Don’t waste your energy on me Granger.” Draco spat, grabbing her wand and throwing it out of her reach.
“Don’t be so stubborn!”
“Don’t be so stupid! Look after yourself, I don't need it.”
“We need to heal ourselves, go back and report Mrs Umbridge. This has crossed so many lines, I don’t even understand what point she is trying to prove anymore. If it were so important, why not try older people, why us?”
Draco lifted his hands and rubbed his face. “Now isn’t the time for your brain to go haywire. Focus on step one.”
Hermione let out a heavy sigh, squeezing her fists tightly in frustration. “You just told me not to try to help you! Make up your bloody mind Malfoy.”
“Back to Malfoy is it?”
“Is your wand with you?”
“You are no fun when you don’t rise to the bait.” The slytherin huffed, a sheen of pink had returned to his ghostly cheeks.
“Wand.” Hermione instructed, her own flying back into her hand. “Is anything broken?”
Draco ran his hands over his chest, wincing but shaking his head. “I don’t think so.”
“Do you know what spells she used?”
Draco rolled his eyes dramatically; “If I did, don’t you think I could have countered them?”
“Not all spells can be countered. “
“Your duelling skills are dismal, so I feel like you are rather unqualified to speak about that.”
“Epskiy. Affrigo. Refije.”
“Are you reciting the alphabet? Try to speak the words in your mind and feel them rather than say it for the whole world to know.”
Hermione healed her own scrapes and bruises first. It wasn’t perfect but she only had the spiteful energy that being around Malfoy could only bring. She knew he was over-bluffing, his wounds were horrific, not even her first healing attempt earlier had closed any of the wounds on his body. Where her robes had been torn, he had sliced through to his skin.
“Nice bra. I’m surprised it isn’t red or gold, you know, with all that Gryffindor pride and all.” Draco mused, his eyes dancing with humour the longer she scowled at him.
“Not rising to the bait.” she murmured to herself, saying it as her prayer as she moved around his body.
Epskiy would heal minor wounds, Affrigo would reduce the bleeding and cleanse the wounds, Refije was simply an amplifying charm. If she repeated those three charms she could confidently move on to sealing the larger wounds.
“I can do the rest.” Malfoy said quickly, his teeth clenched as he bore the pain of Affrigo. It certainly wasn’t the most pleasant of sensations to feel.
Hermione slowly rose onto her feet, her body ached but physically she seemed fine. She could bear the pain later when she was tucked away in her bed, far from the moorlands and the interesting creatures that were rumoured to roam between here and the forbidden forest.
She shook her head in disbelief as Malfoy stood up, his robes had been changed and not a trace of blood nor wound was on his body. His arms and face had returned to their natural pallor, not even a silver sliver of a scar remained. “You didn’t strike me as knowledgeable in healing.”
“I probably know a lot more than you ever could think.”
“You better not be prattling on about mud-blood crap again Malfoy.
“I’m not, at least for now.” He grinned sheepishly.
In silence the two trailed up the steep hill, taking a few moments in between to rest as the incline was rather sudden and steep. The moon was hidden, offering no light to the misty night. The sun had long ago set, stealing the last rays of warmth. Hogwarts looked the most serene at night. The lake was a mirror to the light sky, a sea of stars and light. Hogwarts itself was lit brightly, a warm orange ambience receded from the windows. In the daylight it looked formidable, pale stone and spiky turrets, but in the night the harshness was concealed.
Malfoy stopped as they reached the entrance to the castle, scanning the area like a meerkat before settling his gaze onto. Hermione couldn’t lie to herself any longer, his eyes were mesmerising. Everything else about him was rotten to the core, but the eyes; they were grey when he was thinking or tense. When excited by something or angry they would darken to a molten silver, the tension and emotion behind them conviction enough of his character. When he was placid, comfortable, as he often was around his trio; his eyes were a silvery-blue; a swirl of depth. She could stare at them all day, she often found herself dreaming of them. Not Malfoy himself though. Definitely not.
“You are always such a mess.” He fussed, pulling out his handkerchief and dabbing it along her face.
“Is there dirt on my face?” Hermione asked, trying to take the material from his hands but he held on stubbornly.
“Blood, dirt, sweat, even some dried boogers.”
“You are joking.” She squealed silently, her mouth gaping in a hopeless ‘o’.
“Unfortunately I am.” Malfoy resigned.
Hermione went to walk away, finding the awkwardness beginning to brew the longer they stood still. Malfoy had taken the back of her robe, flipping the collar inside out. She could feel the strain on her neck as she tried to pull away. “What do you want now?”
“Don’t wear anything that used to be from the weasel or pothead.” Malfoy stormed, his eyes darkening to her favourite shade. The fierceness within the Slytherin lashing like a hot flame. “Wear this for now.”
He removed his newly apparated robe, dark trousers and long sleeved revealing underneath. She stood helplessly as he shielded her with his body, tearing away her tattered robe and pulling the new one over her head. She caught him glancing quickly at her face, his face morphing into something she had never seen before.
“You are mine, an honorary Malfoy. Not a Pothead or Weasel. Come to me, or my mother, you already used my owl as you wish. I don't see why you can’t use us to your advantage either.”
Hermione felt as if she had been whipped about twenty times in just this evening. Malfoy was always so freaking hard to read, unpredictable to a fault where she couldn't even begin to theorise. Was he taking the piss of the situation, toying with her? Or was he jealous? She didn’t even think he knew she existed when they were inside of Hogwarts, hearing the words tumble from his mouth so carefree seemed to be a trap. Another test to prove her inferiority.
“Have you not bitched about ending the engagement this whole afternoon?”
“Well. That is true. But until it is over, you are still mine. And I don't want anything to do with your saint and his sucker of a friend.”
Hermione scoffed, her own cheeks blazing with confusion and anger. “They are the only two people besides Luna who care about me. God forbid I have someone to rely on.”
Malfoy didn’t say anything, his jaw ticked as he grinded his teeth. “Thank you. For today.”
With that, the Slytherin strode away, straight back into the entrance of Hogwarts and presumably to the dungeons.
Hand on her heart, she tried to quell the butterflies that swarmed her. His scent was still strongly embedded in the lush fabric. It filled her nostrils, chasing away the earlier toxicity of metallic blood.
If only back then she had known what the cost of being his would endure.
She would always regret not they traitorous way her heart swelled over nothing.
It only ended in pain.