It is little by little that we find the courage for it all.
Somebody had brought flowers.
Hermione considered herself an admirer, often crumbling to their allure and delicacy. She remembered spending some lonely nights wishing for somebody who got her those and meant it. Was that milkweed? And Amaryllis?
She pushed open a compartment door, eliciting a shocked squeal from a group of third-year Hufflepuffs who scrambled to hide something under their seats, guilty looks plastered all over their faces. The prefect badge pinned over her robes and the rumors of what had conspired over the fifth year were enough to get the little ones ambling away from her, a lick of fear visible on their faces. Casting a look of suspicion over the six of them, she strode along, deciding it was too early on in their journey for her to play the boss.
Hermione continued her impromptu quest along the cramped corridors of the train, stumbling and catching on for support when the tracks swerved right. The country landscape sprawled out from the glass panes ahead, a carpet of green kissed by a bright blue sky.
She had to smile. Flowers or no flowers, this part of the journey to Hogwarts was her favorite, when the sun shone graciously on the grass and the wind ruffled them happily, a scene straight from the multiple tales she’d read as a kid.
Sensing that the source of the fragrance lay ahead, Hermione ambled further, trying to place which of the four buzzing compartments housed the scent that her drawn her in irrationally.
It was deep, uniquely satisfying, and left her hungry for more all at once, so much that she’d walked out midway between a heated exchange with Harry and Ron.
“Have any of you brought some-” Hermione’s question died on her lips as four faces whipped up in her direction, the scent so concentrated in this space that her head reeled from the intensity of it.
Brown, blue, black, and Silver-grey eyes gazed at her in confusion as the door slid open. On reading further, Hermione felt the irritation, contempt, and some concealed layers of intrigue slam her from all the sides.
She had walked straight into the snakes’ den.
“Go on?” The cropped hair guy, who in Hermione’s opinion looked the most regal of the Slytherins- Blaise Zabini prompted, his sleek eyebrow lifted in a question. Blinking, she snapped her eyes to the witch next to him, almost failing to recognize her. The last time Hermione had seen Pansy Parkinson, she looked like she was en route to claiming the cover page of the witch weekly, a far cry from how burned out she looked now.
Pale face, collarbones protruding too high, and deep dark circles under her eyes. Hermione frowned at how her hair was still sleek and perfectly arranged over her shoulder despite it all, but instead of the usual air of animosity that surrounded her, she seemed weighted down.
Grief?
No. Not that.
Anger.
Helplessness too, she could muse.
“Someone’s lost her voice.” A low baritone rumbled to her left. Hermione gaped like a fool, her surprise palpable as ever as Draco Malfoy rose from his seat. Furiously, her brain noted the changes that had occurred in him. In the weeks between their visit to Knockturn Alley and the first of September, he had shot up many inches, because his head almost touched the ceiling of their carriage, and she had to look all the way up to meet his eyes.
He’d grown into his lankiness. For all she knew, he could have spent the whole of his summer practicing quidditch or prancing around gym equipment- he had filled out gloriously. Harry could go on and on about Draco being a possible death eater and here the only thing that Hermione could register were his accentuated physical features.
Were his eyes always this dark? She had never lingered long enough to notice and had assumed his eyes were a lighter shade of blue.
The opulence of the grey struck her at once, and so did the neat set of his hair. For one self-indulgent second, Hermione completely obliterated the pre-existing facts that she knew of him, only focusing on the bits that mesmerized her.
Snap out of it. Harry’s and Ron’s apoplectic faces flashed into the recess of her mind and she jerked back, reclaiming the sense that had apparently evaded her.
Merlin and Morgana, she must be looking like such a fool.
“I’m sorry I just-” She flared into speech, locking eyes with the fourth, curly-haired guy who had amusement written all over his face.
Face burning in embarrassment, Hermione abandoned whatever she had wished to say in favor of scurrying out of the little space that remained between the open door and Malfoy’s suddenly hulking figure. He was leaning against the sliding door, face angled towards her, but his restless eyes skimmed the corridor over ad over again, like he was expecting someone.
Don't read into anything. What would be the difference between you and Hary if you start suspecting him for just...being?
Hermione had scrambled two steps out when the train screeched to a sudden halt- misfortune was attached right at her hip, it seemed- making her stumble over her own two feet, quite gracelessly.
She was frozen. The air sweetened, the aroma back and closer than ever. Down she fell, ensnared in the trap of the inebriating fragrance.
In the split second that she’d lurched forward, Hermione could feel the metaphorical trail of the scent coil around her body delicately, and just as swiftly, she felt a strong arm wrap around her front. Pale, long fingers resting on her right shoulder, a bicep curled securely around her left. Draco Malfoy pulled her to his chest and into the compartment, turning her around.
“Sit down, Granger.”
“What? I’ll just-” Mortified, she caught the curly-haired guy scoff and remove the silken blanket that lay on the seat next to him, beckoning her over.
The train pushed forward with a jerk and Hermione’s breath hitched as Draco’s arm rose up for support, palms landing flat against the ceiling. A part of her brain wondered if there was some issue with the train, but the more present, horrified part of her mind was missing having that scent over her- his scent.
The train halted again, and she wobbled forward, both palms on his chest as she fisted his robes, humiliation burning through her.
“Something’s wrong,” Pansy stated matter of factly behind her, and Hermione couldn’t help but agree because hands hovered over her arms, a sliver of uncertainty in his eyes.
She didn’t like that much, she decided. Malfoy was a lot more charming and himself when he had ordered her to sit down, with the confidence that would make one suspect he had some claim on her. This hesitation- Hermione didn’t like it.
Backed into a corner by her own bashful thoughts, Hermione ripped herself away, leaving his robes crinkled and in disarray.
Like she had penned down her thoughts on parchment and owled it to him, the uncertainty faded from his eyes upon watching her pull away, a sure grip on her arms walking her backward to the seat he previously occupied.
“Sit.” He whispered, eyes trailing from hers to the guy to her right, a clear, non-verbal agreement happening between the two of them. “I’ll go and check.”
Eyes crinkled in confusion, Hermione watched his broad back disappear to another compartment and then she rushed to the window where Zabini and Pansy were huddled.
An enormous shadow hung over the train like a carpet, trailing it lengthwise. The dreary shape blocked the sunlight and glided forward, covering a wide expanse on the sides of the tracks. She suspected it extended to the other size too, given its proportions. The shadow shrunk as whatever soared above lifted high, loud flapping of wings startling her.
Someone let out a tirade of curses from the next compartment and the blood in Hermione’s veins ran cold.
Her eyes followed the dulled blades of grass as a clear pattern of scales and wings emerged, closer than ever to where they stood.
Something heavy and groaning knocked into the side of the train, horrified screams and cries engulfing the whole of it. Startled, Hermione shot leftwards from the impact, her hips crashing against the seat, Pansy flailing over her. Gripping the wall for support, she lifted herself up, helping Pansy while the floor where they stood shook precariously.
“Fuck!” Beside her Pansy swore, Blaise supplementing it with a string of fancy curses of his own.
“No no no, Merlin no.” Hermione shook her head, eyes wide as she twisted her curls behind her ear, a thin sheen of sweat all over her face. How could it be?
Silver chains cascaded down along the side of their window, metal clanking and shattering the glass as Blaise jumped back, shielding both Pansy and her behind his frame. Sparks shot out in all directions as the chain was dragged along the metal sides of the train, the restrained flap of wings ebbing to complete silence.
Even in this circumstance, Hermione couldn't help but catch the whiff of flowers emanating from Zabini when he lifted his wrist to shield her. Swallowing deeply, she lifted her fingertips to her nose, realizing that on them lingered a similar fragrance. She had gripped Pansy's wrist to help her up, hadn't she?
Like a bolt of lightning ripping through the skies, the train spluttered from front to end, an enormous weight settling somewhere in the middle.
A dragon had landed on the Hogwarts Express.
“Let me see!” Hermione screeched, ducking past Blaise’s outstretched hand, all the airheadedness rushing out of her as she repaired the damaged window, casting a cushioning charm in the compartment lest someone fell. Frightful cries rang out from the other side of the train, and the train jerked monumentally as the creature took off, the shadow of wings enveloping them again.
A runaway. It was tethered previously, judging from the heavyset chains. If Hermione could find a way to contact Charlie, he would be able to subdue the Dragon easily.
“It's taken flight-” She explained, jerking back when the stoic faces of Pansy, Blaise, and the third guy stared back at her. Hermione was so used to ending up in life-threatening situations with Harry and Ron that she’d forgotten she was in a room full of Slytherins, while her friends remained at the far end of the train.
“Shit, Harry and Ron.” she cursed, shooting out of the compartment.
“Granger!” Blaise Zabini yelled, a stampede of steps following her as she turned the other way and rushed to a group of crying first years, ushering them back into their seats and casting fire-repelling charms around them.
“Wait-” The brown-haired one rushed to a stop beside her, twirling out his wand casting what she had to agree was a very powerful protection charm, supplemented by runes.
“Those too, see that they don’t get hurt.”
“You are not supposed to get hurt either!” He yelled after her as she ran off, Zabini right on her tail.
“Look!” He pointed at the glass panes from the door, and Hermione ducked under him to peek out. Jets of red light tore through the windows ahead and slammed into the wings of the dragon. A Hungarian horntail, she realized. It roared angrily, swiveling in the wind and flying off.
Somewhere above, a tumultuous jet of fire roared out. Another curse flew from up ahead, striking the dragon’s leg- that had to be from the carriage her friends had claimed. Idiots.
The dragon let out a horrendous roar of pain and fury, making her jump back. It rammed straight into the body of the train, breaking apart two carriages up ahead from the ones at the back.
“Bloody Gryffindors- using singular stupefy’s just makes the dragon angrier.”
Hermione wasn’t listening. Her heart thumped in her throat, a ringing in her ears. They weren't getting any help anytime soon, she’d have to do something to save the dragon, and everybody else for that matter, even if it meant manipulating the Slytherins into defending others.
“We have to save it, he’s getting hurt.” The dragon roared again, spraying fire and smoke over a patch of fresh grass and charring all of them.
“No we don’t!” Zabini shook his head furiously, trying to usher her backward. Not fearfully, no. His reaction was more of the sort one would have when a plan went astray.
“Thought I’d told you to stay back.” Someone whispered in her ear, his platinum hair all tousled, his breath quick.
Swiftly, Malfoy raised an arm and pushed her behind himself, striding to the door.
“C’mon Granger. We have to get out of here.” Zabini whispered urgently.
“What about the others? There are kids here! Don't you think students from Slytherin would be getting hurt if the dragon goes out of control?”
Blasie clenched his jaw, looking back into the corridor which shook with the cacophony of cries and scampering feet. “Theo’s got them. He’s good with the protection spells.”
“But the” Her next words died in her throat as the dragon swerved and tipped down to the same level as their carriage.
Malfoy raised his left arm, wand pointed and unwavering. A gush of the scent tackled her before she zapped back to her senses, rushing forward.
“No!”
“Reducto!”
She curled her fingers around Malfoy’s arm, nails digging into the meat of the muscles he’d acquired, eyes wide.
The golden red line shot out of the crack in the glass perfectly, aimed with so much precision it didn't so much as touch the dragon. Instead, to Hermione's horror, it shattered to dust the chains circling the enormous leg of the beast, giving it the space to fly off.
In a breath, another demolishing hex tore off with a recoil that struck her chest harshly, blasting to bits the chains that clipped the ends of the dragon's wings.
The dragon reared its neck, giving a testing tug to its expanded, free wings, the enormous chain clattering to the ground.
“Why did you do that?” Hermione screeched.
“Because it has got somewhere else to be.” Malfoy whispered, eyes narrowly concealing the blaze that burned in them. Secrets, unhinged reasons, and hesitation swam in the greyscale of his irises, and the way they lingered over hers had her frozen in place, hanging off his arm.
The crack of wings against the roof of the carriage jolted her out of the reverie, a scream dying in her throat when the sharp teeth of the dragon reared into her view.
Mafloy leaped into action, pushing her to the ground. He ducked inwards, crowding her to the other side of the carriage. Her head banged on the carriage wall as he lay over her body completely, covering her up like it was his base instinct.
With a startled shriek Hermione realized he had thrown himself in the line of literal fire, acting as a human shield for her. She tried to reach for her wand and attempt a protection charm while Malfoy hissed in pain. Unable to move under his broad frame, Hermione felt the urge to cry at his contorted face, the hellfire of flames cut in, his hands clamped steadfast over both sides of her head.
The screams around aggravated as footsteps rushed into the compartment, a familiar voice yelling out a ‘protego!’
“Stupefy!” Ron pointed a hex at the dragon through the door, mistimed and tearing through the remaining glass, exploding all of it over them. Eyes clenched, Hermione curled herself further under Malfoy, nails digging into her fists.
“Get off her you bloody tosser.” She saw Ron’s shoe land half an inch away from where her hand rested on the floor, Malfoy’s face wrenched from the pain.
Instinctively, Hermione reached her hand to his bicep, wincing at the array of cuts and burns that marred the surface.
“Draco!” The guy who Blaise referred to as Theo ran in, his elbow bleeding profusely. “The last carriage is on fire.”
“Shit.” Hermione heard Harry mutter and watched him shoot out to the side of the fire as Draco finally straightened, eyeing her all over, jaw clenched and knucles white.
“You good?” He whispered, accepting Theo’s hand and letting him pull him up. Ron gripped Hermione’s arm and hoisted her trembling form up, her eyes wild, trained on Draco.
“You’re asking that to me?” She asked, bewildered, peeling herself out of Ron’s hold and stepping forward. Blaise Zabini appeared and crawled out from the space behind, heaving and panting, his fingertips charred.
“Who set him loose?” Ron thundered, offering a hand to the Slytherin and pulling him up.
Hermione wasn’t listening. She was watching the magnitude of burns Draco had faced- all because he had caved in to god knows what and shielded her with his body. He and Zabini exchanged dark looks and then he shrugged, eyes out for the diabolical beast that roared again.
“You’re charred.”
Someone yelped about the smoke, and Ron looked around wildly, trying to find where else were people trapped.
“Nothing we can’t fix.” Theo whispered, but Hermione shook her head, irrational fear filling her. If he gets infected? It would be because of her. She couldn’t let that happen, not when he gotten hurt saving her.
A wild part of her mind wondered what in Merlin's soggy old beard was wrong with Malfoy.
“Episkey.” She whispered, watching the minor bruises fade along his arm. She winced and shut her eyes as she witnessed the cuts on his back.
“We get off the train.” Harry rushed back in, lots of crying first years in tow.
“Hermione, come on.” She’d been lost, a wisp of tears in her eyes as Malfoy dragged himself back to the deformed, melted door, watching the dragon take off to the northern side.
“Hermione!” Harry yelled, jerking her back.
“You take them out Harry, Ron. I’ll find you.”
“What!?”
“Have you lost your mind?”
She turned back at Malfoy, realizing that he was whispering something at the creature’s back, his eyes never wavering from it. Face still as a frozen river, eyes glassy. Unreal.
The shadow that hung over his face made the hairs along her arm stand at their ends.
Resolutely, Hermione used all of the conviction she could gather to tell Harry and Ron to leave.
“You won’t go with us? You- you, you trust these snakes to keep you safe?”
“I don’t need anyone to keep me safe!” She snapped back, furious at Ron for being such a dunderhead.
“That doesn’t mean we let you-”
“Ron. Harry. Leave.”
Of the two of her best friends, Harry had been awfully quiet, with no mention of Draco being a death eater or raised eyebrows regarding her being with Slytherins. She watched them retreat before dashing to where Malfoy stood.
“Where are you sending it?”
No reply. His steely focus remained, and kept muttering what he had to say. Hermione remembered setting Snape’s robes on fire back in the first year, and she awfully wished she wouldn’t have to repeat that.
Somewhere, she pondered if the fire would deter him.
“Somewhere where it's safe.”’ Theo answered for Draco, pulling from his pocket a jar full of a purple paste and opening the lid. With a jolt, Hermione realized that this was where the aroma had been coming from. The paste had been concentrated with flower essence.
“One of my creativities. It heals cuts and bruises super fast, and hides any marks that it leaves.” Theo explained, extending it to her.
“What for?”
“That-” He pointed at her scraped knees, Pansy rounding up from the corner completely unscathed.
“How did Emming escape in the first place?”
“The dragon has a name?”
“Ofcourse Granger, don’t be silly.” She snapped, pushing past Theo to gaze out of the door.
“What the hell is going on over here?” Her fingers curled around her wand, suddenly feeling ambushed with only snakes around her, all vicious and scheming. In one way or the other, each of them terrified Hermione, and she didn’t know if it was right to send Harry and Ron away.
“Trust me, Granger.” Draco spoke, snapping her out of the hysteria that had engulfed her as his blazing eyes claimed hers, frustration simmering to their very brim.
“You don’t want to know that.”