Chapter 9
By the time Hermione had finished, it was almost time for dinner, the part she was most dreading the whole day. Eight murder suspects all dining together after having just found their friend dead in his room that very morning. What a perfect, relaxed way to spend the evening.
The one person who she could have counted in to cheer her up that evening, Blaise Zabini, now had a very concerning tie to Justin's murder. Pretty much everyone that would be in that dining room had a very concerning tie to Justin's murder. What a perfectly splendid environment to be in for the next six days.
None of them were safe here. Not that they really ever were in the first place, having been kidnapped by various fake societies, Quidditch teams and public school governing boards. But somehow, this felt completely different.
In fact, it had not even occurred to Hermione that the two things might in some way be correlated. She had a gut feeling that somehow, they weren't. But the possibility was always there and she wasn't prepared to throw it out of the window just yet, not this early on in the investigation.
Hermione left the gloomy basement, checked that the wards were still intact and made her way up the stairs for her room. She desperately needed a shower: both her mind and her body required a deep clean.
Thankfully, the bathroom was free and Hermione allowed herself a solid ten minutes in the shower before stepping out and wrapping herself in her towelling robe and throwing her hair up in a towel turban. She was going to need to speed to her room and hope nobody would see her, which would be a bit of a challenge given that her flip-flops were slippery and her towel turban threw off her balance.
As soon as she stepped out of the toilet, her plan flew out of the window when she bumped straight into Susan Bones, who had just come up the stairs.
"Hello there, Hermione," said Susan, stabilising herself after their collision and chuckling at the image of Hermione in a towel turban and robe. "Had a good shower?"
"Sorry about that, Susan," she sighed. "I'm just a little bit distracted."
"We all are, don't worry," she replied feebly, sadness piercing her voice.
"How are you coping?" asked Hermione, the two of them walking down the corridor together.
"As best I can," she replied, biting her lip nervously. "I miss him already."
"I do too," said Hermione, noticing Susan's discomfort at the topic. "It's alright, we don't have to talk about this right now if you don't want to."
"I just think I need a little more time," she confessed with a weak smile. "Of course I'll answer anything you need for the investigation."
"Whenever you're ready," Hermione reassured her. She came to a stop in front of her own room. "I'm in here, but I'll see you at dinner."
Susan nodded, thanked Hermione and began to walk down to her own room.
"Hey, Susan, wait," Hermione called after her. "Why don't we get ready for dinner together? Only if you'd like, of course."
Susan turned around and smiled, genuinely this time.
"I'd like that very much, thank you, Hermione."
~
Susan suggested they use her room, which was at the very end of the corridor. It was very neat and tidy room, slightly smaller than her own but of a very similar layout, only that the general colour scheme was of a mustard yellow, like Justin's. It was a little uncanny, but infinitely better than using her own room.
Hermione felt Susan's gaze upon her as began drying her hair with some wandless magic, careful not to use her wand in front of her.
"Please can I do your hair, Hermione?" Susan begged, pulling out a whole bag full of products. "I'm really good, I promise."
Hermione looked at Susan sceptically.
"Go for it," she consented, much to Susan's delight as she let out a squeal. "You definitely can't be worse at hair than me."
By the time Susan was done, Hermione's hair was curled very lightly, reminding her of some of her favourite muggle celebrities' hairstyles, and showed absolutely no sign of frizz.
"I'm in absolute awe," said Hermione, looking into the mirror once Susan had finished. "I have no idea how you managed to do that."
"Hair and fashion have always been a hobby of mine. I got loads of practice back at Hogwarts," she grinned. "I pretty much did every Hufflepuff girl's hair for the Yule Ball."
"Again, how on earth did you manage that? It took me the whole evening to do my own hair!"
"It did end up paying off though, remember?" said Susan with a mischievous smile. "Viktor Krum definitely still dreams about that night."
"Susan! He's next door, he could hear us."
Susan ignored her and continued laughingly.
"You know he tried to bribe me to do your hair and style you just like you were at the ball?"
"He did not!" said Hermione in disbelief.
"He absolutely did," Susan giggled back.
"Is that why you wanted to do my hair?" asked Hermione.
"No, I outright said no to him, of course. I would've put your hair in a bun if that had been the case," she replied, making her way over to her wardrobe and looking through it. "I've always thought your hair had so much potential. You know, in Herbology, I used to look over and think about all the various ways I could tame your hair."
Hermione wanted to tell her that while her hair was an absolute nightmare sometimes, she wouldn't change it for the world. She only wanted to keep it in rule for certain occasions, like dinners as a hostage during a murder investigation. Pretty standard stuff like that.
"Is that why you were always staring at me?" asked Hermione, her mouth wide open. "I thought you hated me or something."
"No, of course not. I remember always wanting to be your friend, not just during Herbology lessons but in our free time too. I was always just much too shy to make an effort and you were always so busy studying."
Hermione reddened a little.
"Or busy saving the world with Harry and Ron," Susan added with a smile. "Like you are now."
"I'm not sure about that," she replied modestly. "But I'm glad we're doing this now, even if it is late."
Susan nodded in agreement and pulled out a long sleeved black dress from her wardrobe.
"I probably should have brought more black with me on this trip," Susan sighed.
"I can use the colour changing charm on some of your clothes, if you want," Hermione suggested.
"Could you? That would be great."
Hermione reluctantly pulled out her wand, having never tried the charm wandlessly and cast it at various items that Susan picked out.
"I miss my wand," she mumbled after thanking Hermione. Hermione felt rather awkward and didn't know what to say. She was terrified that her taking leadership in the investigation might cause a divide between her and the other witches and wizards. They probably considered her to be a supercilious overachiever and likely resented her for it.
"What are you going to wear?" asked Susan who had just pulled on the long sleeved black dress and a pair of sheer black tights behind her wardrobe. The hem of the dress fell a few inches above her knee.
"Oh, I'm not sure. I have a couple more business dresses with me," she replied, tightening her arms over her towelling robe.
Susan raised an eyebrow at her. Hermione immediately understood her meaning.
"No, Susan, seriously, you've already done enough-"
"Please, Hermione," she begged. "Let me dress you. Just this once."
Hermione considered Susan's request for a few moments before finally giving in.
"Alright, just this once. And nothing excessive please," Hermione sighed.
Susan squealed once again and began looking through her wardrobe with great excitement.
Hermione suddenly felt a pang of guilt. They were getting ready as if to go on a night out when their friend had just been found murdered that very morning. They were in the middle of a murder investigation, for goodness' sake. It felt wrong on so many levels.
But on the other hand, Hermione was pleased to see that Susan was distracting herself. She had been absolutely distraught that morning. Hermione also was in great need of a distraction, and reuniting with a friend she had lost touch with a long time ago couldn't hurt either.
Susan pulled out a long silky black dress with thin straps and a square neck line. Hermione began to complain, asking for something that at least covered her shoulders but Susan insisted. In the end, Susan gave in and provided her with a sheer black shirt to wear unbuttoned and on top of the dress.
"You look like an absolute dream, Hermione," said Susan, stepping back to look at her from a distance.
"You don't look so bad yourself, Sue."
After swapping her shower flip-flops for a simple pair of black leather boots, Hermione stopped by her room to drop off her used towels. She sent Susan on without her, not wanting to make her late on her behalf. Susan needed some persuading, but Hermione insisted. Hermione also checked to see if Luna was in her room, but it appeared that she had already gone downstairs for dinner.
Walking down the corridor, Hermione felt her nerves building up. It was like the Yule Ball all over again. Maybe she could mess her hair up just a little...
No, she was being ridiculous and insecure. There was nothing wrong with putting in a little bit of effort every now and then.
She was just approaching the end of the corridor when the door to room 103 flung open and Draco Malfoy strode out, dressed in his usual black suit. He paused, fixed his cufflinks and then noticed a particularly awkward looking Hermione who wasn't sure whether to wait for him or leave him and hurry downstairs. He looked her up and down ever so slightly.
"Granger."
"Malfoy."
It was a very cold acknowledgement, very different to their playful banter the night before, but then again, much had changed since then.
"May I escort you to dinner?" he asked, his words polite and formal, but the tone was of the complete opposite register. Even the manner in which he extended his arm appeared to be mocking her.
"Please, Malfoy," she laughed, emulating his mockery. "There's no need to force your pureblood propriety around me. I know reluctance when I see it."
"I'm glad to see we're on the same page," replied Draco in a snarky tone, dropping his arm and flattening out his suit.
"Do you really always have to do that?" Hermione asked with a mixture of curiosity and bewilderment. "Escort an unaccompanied lady to dinner if you see her?"
"It is expected," he replied shortly.
Hermione looked around her and then down the stairs and sighed.
"Well I suppose we ought to walk together," she decided. "Although I'm not holding your arm."
"Please, do save me the embarrassment."
Hermione rolled her eyes at him and began to descend the stairs. He silently followed her.
"Been up to anything exciting today?" she asked, not knowing what else to say to break the awkward silence.
"Not particularly."
His response was entirely uncooperative.
"Dreadful weather out today," Hermione remarked, rather pointlessly.
"Quite," replied Draco.
It only took two aloof responses from Draco to vex Hermione to the point of being unable to continue such a pretence any longer. It was extremely difficult to hold up the concrete slab of social decorum with only one set of hands. And so Hermione let it crash.
"Oh, I give up," said Hermione, rather exasperated. "You're impossible to talk to."
"I don't see what the issue is, Granger," drawled Draco, his lip curing into a small smile. "You and I do not engage in small talk and we most certainly do not share pleasant conversations. Why pretend that to be the case when we can so easily spare ourselves the inconvenience of going against tradition?"
They were now walking down the corridor that led to the double doors of the dining room.
"We had a pleasant conversation just yesterday evening."
"Ah, yes, but if I recall correctly, that was after you had drunk multiple goblets of wine and had conjured yourself a sense of humour. Impressive transfiguration skills, by the way. Not even McGonagall herself managed to achieve that."
Hermione pulled a sneering face at him and decided to ignore his last comment. She wouldn't give the annoying git the satisfaction.
"Don't act like you weren't also tipsy," she argued. "And consequently less of the stuck up, arrogant git that you usually are."
They had now reached the double doors, which would soon swing open automatically before them. Draco turned his head to the side to look at Hermione, who felt herself stiffen slightly at being the object of such observation.
"You're looking a little flustered, Granger. Relax your nerves a little: the show is about to begin."
At that very moment, the doors swung open.
Every head at the table turned around to look at who had just arrived.
Ron's jaw dropped, looking utterly gobsmacked at the unlikely pairing, whilst Blaise wolf-whistled and cheered. Hermione looked at him, slightly taken aback.
"That was for pretty boy Draco over there, not you, Granger," he said with a wink. "Although from certain angles, some might consider your appearance not entirely repugnant this evening."
"You flatter me far too much," replied Hermione sarcastically.
It was easy to forget that Blaise was a prime suspect in Justin's murder when he was so charismatic. But he was no less a prime suspect than Luna, Susan and Ron. She supposed that made none of them a prime suspect if there were so many of them.
"Excuse me, Zabini," said Susan, pretending to be offended. "You are insulting my work there."
"You overhyped it, mate," he joked back. "I was expecting Granger to emerge in a ball gown, riding a unicorn and perhaps accompanied by some orchestral music by the way you were describing it."
Susan stuck her tongue out at him and munched on a piece of celery from the crudités platter.
"Thank goodness for the free wine," muttered Draco in a low voice to Hermione.
"Yes, I think I ought to write a thank you note to our kidnappers. They've spoiled us rotten," she replied and sat down in the empty seat between Luna and Viktor. Draco took his place next to Blaise.
"Very very nice look, Haramione," said Viktor, giving her a thumbs up and a toothy smile.
"Very pretty indeed," added Luna warmly.
Hermione thanked them both, blushing slightly as she immediately reached for the wine. She looked around the table, which was laid for eight, and noticed that one seat was empty. It was the one that Justin Finch-Fletchley had been sitting in the day before.
"Does anyone know where Riddle is?" she asked, addressing the whole table.
"Probably under the table licking your arse," replied Ron with a scowl.
Blaise burst into fits of laughter and Susan held back a chuckle, but everyone else glared at Ron.
"You may be poor, Weasel, but at least you were granted the gift of a semi-decent sense of humour," cackled Blaise.
"There was twice the amount of wine here before Blaise came," whispered Luna to Hermione. "He's really gone to town this evening."
Was it guilt-induced drinking?
"I thought there were wards," replied Hermione under her breath.
"No, that was only upon arrival, I think."
Hermione nodded to Luna and then straightened herself back up and addressed the whole table then.
"Well? Anyone got a serious answer for me?"
"No, Hermenny, I thought he was with you," said Viktor, and a few people at the table nodded in agreement.
That was rather concerning, but Hermione thanked Viktor nonetheless. She served herself some food and took a little time to think. Or overanalyse, but the two were synonymous in her head.
Why was the autopsy taking so long? She had imagined it would take him a maximum of three or four hours. Maybe he wasn't doing the autopsy, maybe something terrible had happened, maybe the murderer had struck again-
The doors swung open and Tom walked straight in.
His eyes caught Hermione's immediately, his gaze lingering on her longer than she had ever noticed before.
"Speak of the devil," muttered Ron with an annoyed frown, stabbing the sausage on his plate forcefully.
"Apologies for the delay."
He took Justin's seat, nodded to Susan, who was sitting next to him, unfolded his napkin onto his lap and immediately reached for the open bottle of wine.
"Merlin, we're all turning into raging alcoholics here," said Susan, raising her glass to Tom.
"If only our kind benefactors could supply us with something a little stronger," added Blaise, wishfully. "I feel awfully restricted for choice."
"Just be thankful it's not Butterbeer," said Susan, causing Tom and Hermione to give each other a discreet look.
"I bloody wish it were Butterbeer," complained Ron. "Never liked the taste of wine."
"Of course you don't," snorted Draco. "Such an unrefined palate."
"At least he isn't the result of some copious inbreeding," retorted Hermione. Ron looked up at her, surprised that she was still defending him. She shot him a quick smile.
"Aw, the Gryffindors are reuniting - how sweet," said Blaise. "I've been waiting for a Golden Trio reunion for ages, you know. Even more than the Weird Sisters."
"The Weird Sisters split up?" asked Hermione, spilling some of her french onion soup out of her spoon.
"Granger, now that is just appalling," said Draco in disbelief. "Even I, an avid Weird Sisters
misanthrope, knew that much."
"You really need to work less," said Ron, a hint of concern in his voice.
"Cut the soppy shit, Weasel, bet I can fit more profiteroles in my mouth than you," challenged Blaise, reaching for the abundant platter of pastries.
"You bloody wish," replied Ron, his lip curving up into a competitive smile.