Chapter Text
Draco Malfoy knew he had a temper. As a child, he would often throw a fit to get new toys, brooms, tickets, anything he wanted. In fact, this made him quite spoiled. He knew it, too. Not until he entered Hogwarts did he ever encounter anyone capable of saying no. He knew the difference between an authority figure or elder ‘correcting’ his behavior, but his peers? Who would ever deny Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy?
Then she came. Bushy hair, smart mouth, up turned nose, and, perhaps most confusing, muggle-born. She denied him satisfaction in bullying, of making her cry. She beat him for the top spot in their academics. She punched him, for Circe’s sake. Amidst the loathing, dislike, and jealousy grew respect and admiration. Her sharp wit, and sharper tongue kept him on the edge, stimulated and entertained. Her courage and selflessness, while seen as stupid in his self preserving mindset, impressed him.
Now, watching her almost run off the pitch, he felt the infamous temper threaten to break. Years taught him self-control, yet patience began to fail him, red clouding his vision. If it were not for his match against Potter, Draco would have marched straight after her. As it stood, Madam Pomfrey and a few assistants helped the Weasel off the stage. A loud, dreamy voice droned through the stands, announcing the next match to start within a few moments.
Bright, emerald eyes stared at his own grey, reflecting the horror and rage he felt at the spell cast. While several others heard of the spell, none of them had seen it. The concern in his former rival’s eyes pierced the fog of his mind, and Draco noticed the worried and confused gazes of the group.
“Pansy, Longbottom, make sure she’s alright,” his gruff voice barked. “Potter, we have a duel to settle.”
Sudden activity surrounded Draco, his mind racing far from the stage. Minutes trickled by in a blur, mind unable to focus on the buzz that surrounded him. A dull din registered as a more authoritative voice began to talk once more. Eyes followed Potter as he approached the stage, ears finally dialed in as the crowd roared to life.
“And the defender in this match is Eight Year, Draco Malfoy of Slytherin house,” Luna announced, a mixture of murmurs, cautious cheers, and jeers greeting him. “Well known for his spell and wand work, his aura is quite dark. Good thing there are no nargles present. We don’t want to add nargle-murderer to his titles.” He rose a single, blonde eyebrow at the Ravenclaw. “No offense, Draco.”
As Madam Hooch stepped between the duelists, hush fell along the crowd, silence pressing onto the pitch. A palpable energy pulsed through the stadium as grey met green. In the blink of an eye, they were off.
~~~ | ELEMENTARY | ~~~
Awareness abandoned the brunette lioness as her legs carried her far from the stadium. Each harsh breath tore through her throat and burned in her lungs. Salt coated her tongue mixed with a bitterness she could not place. Even then, she continued to run until her legs took her to a familiar place; her secret alcove in the restricted section.
Hermione accepted many things in her life changed over the past year or so. She thought that a friendship forged in a time of need, tempered over years of unified action through conflict would never be one of those things. As actions stood, it appeared the friendship she thought neigh unbreakable to be more fragile than spun sugar.
“Merlin’s beard, she runs fast for a bloody bookworm,” the huffing voice of Pansy came around the corner.
“And that’s surprising how?” Neville panted, their steps nearing her secluded hiding spot.
“I don’t know,” the black haired witch exhaled loudly. “Because books don’t run from you?”
“She spent a year avoiding people, running probably became a requirement at some point,” Hermione could hear the Gryffindor male roll his eyes.
“Yeah, well, it took me by surprised,” the muttered response.
Thinking quick, wards and spells weaved their way around her. She could still hear outside of the protective bubble, but neither could actually force their way into her space. Time. That is what she needed right now. Time to get over the fact that one of her best friends, since she was eleven, not only cheated, hurt and abused her, but used a spell so dark, so danger, so lethal on her. To say it shocked her deep within her usual hard exterior would be a blatant lie.
Instead, she spent time sorting through her thoughts and feelings, being none the wiser to the events swirled around her in the library.
“She’s here, you know,” Neville sighed as he hit a barrier, familiar magic blocking him.
“Are you blind, Longbottom?” Pansy quirked a brow.
“I’m as blind as you are daft,” he retorted, pulling a chair from a nearby table and settling upon it.
“What are you doing?”
“Sitting down,” came with a shrug. “She won’t leave until she feels good and ready. We found her, and are keeping an eye out for her. That’s all we can assure Malfoy of at the moment.”
“Once more, how do you know we found her?” The Slytherin asked, neck twisting this way and that to find the missing brunette.
“Warding magic, Parkinson,” Neville sighed.
“You can feel wards, though,” came the predictable answer.
“Think it through. Who was able to ward themselves so completely that, despite being the most wanted people in wizarding Britain, they were never found?”
A few moments ticked by until a soft, “Oh.”
“Exactly,” the Gryffindor snorted. “I know what her magic feels like, we’ve been mates for years now. It’s also how I know she doesn’t want any company right now. The only three people I can think of that could go through her wards are down on the quidditch pitch right now.”
Face scrunched with thoughtfulness, Pansy thought through all she had heard. She turned her deep, brown eyes towards the Gryffindor brunette to her side, his fingers turning the page of an old herbology text with idle curiosity. Unable to fathom what drove Hermione to such great distress, nor why Draco appeared ready to murder, she turned her mind to more interesting pursuits.
“What happened out there?” she mused aloud, a sly glance cast to the side.
“I couldn’t tell you,” his nonchalant reply.
With an equally insignificant sound, observations filtered into Pansy’s mind. Despite his appearance of calm, Neville sat quite tense, shoulders held tight, ears pricked, movements far too practiced and even to be natural. This did nothing to ease her sudden bout of conscious. Anything the orangoutang of a wizard could do that upset her friends so completely did not bode well. Yet, for the life of her, Pansy couldn’t figure it out.
All the while, Hermione watched with bated breath and curious mind. Thoughts floated across the surface of her mind, all trying to rationalize what just happened. Normally, such a curse would not even phase her, yet, what did happen out there? A fit of temper. This she knew, but was that all? Magic, all dark, light, and all the various shades of grey, revolved around intent. Reasons and thoughts struck themselves from her internal list. Too logical. Too silly. Not Ronald enough. Absolutely unreasonable. Yet, no acceptable answer presented itself.
So she sat, guardians engaged in quiet conversation her only companion. Time slipped by once more, her mind unable to comprehend it’s passing. Too soon, yet after an eternity, familiar voices intruded upon the little gathering outside her wards. Baritones and tenors mixed with a shrill soprano, her wards acting as a one-way mirror to the rest of the library.
“She’s been in here the whole time?” One of the voices asked.
“Her wards are up,” another responded.
“How can you tell?” A questioning female asked, curious lilt at the end.
“Can’t you feel it?” the first voice questioned.
“No, but I can see it,” the other new, male said.
She refused to take her eyes off the hypnotic darkness of the lake surrounded by snow’s white blanket. Mind and ears registered the first voice, Harry’s concerned tenor, and Ginny’s lilting soprano. Warmth spread at the sound of Draco’s warm baritone. Their words, catalogued for later use, rolled off her mind.
“We found her here, kind of,” Pansy shrugged, eyes darting towards the “empty” corner.
“I don’t see anything,” Ginny bluntly stated.
“She set up her privacy wards, like at the burrow,” sighed her boyfriend.
“Oooh.”
“Wards? She’s sitting right there, looking at the lake,” the frown of Draco Malfoy could be heard.
Her mind painted the picture of two grinning girls, an exasperated Neville, and Harry’s thoughtful frown. A slap echoed through the quiet Restricted Section, followed by a couple of giggles. Someone heaved an almighty, exhaled breath. Lips almost broke into a melancholy smile, amused at the antics of her friend.
“Hey, Ginny, I was thinking of getting something from the Great Hall, would you join me?” Harry inquired, voice measured into more of a command than a question.
“Sure, I’d love to,” the cheery response. “Hey, Neville, Pansy, want to come, too?”
“I don-“ Neville began before Pansy finished.
“Of course, Ginevera, darling,” beamed the Slytherin. “Neville would be more than happy to join us! Draco will just call a house elf when he’s ready, isn’t that right Draco?”
“Whatever you say, Pans,” he drawled.
“With that settled, let’s go,” she brightly hummed, dragging the reluctant brunette Gryffindor.
“I hate you all,” Neville muttered, murderous undertone ignored by all, bringing a chuckle to Hermione.
A scarce moment later, no other sound could be heard as the quartet left a brooding lioness and blonde snake. Hair on the back of her neck stood to attention, his gaze burning into the back of her head. Still, she did not acknowledge him. Her mind wandered to it’s earlier musings, distress and disappointment mixed with rage and hurt; a most potent, debilitating cocktail of emotions. Shivers ran through her body as bells rang in her head as he walked through the protective wards. No sound or word left his lips as he settled across from her once more, as a month before.
A comfortable silence enveloped the pair as she watched the lake in the dimming light of day.
“Life sucks,” Hermione said, voice low and rough.
“Very true,” Draco smirked, humorless and bitter.
“I hate being weak,” she whispered, biting her lower lip.
“You’re aren’t,” grey eyes observed her as she wrung her hands.
“Yes, I am,” she growled, honey eyes swung to meet his, sparkling with unshed tears. “Here I am, about to break down, again, because of a boy. Gods, I feel like a weepy, emotionally unstable female, and I hate it.”
“He was your best friend for years,” murmured Draco as loathing battled the urge to comfort her.
“Some friend,” she snapped, head swinging to look out the window once more. “Always taking me for granted, treating me like a walking textbook and homework checker, trying to put me down. Never listening to me when I said anything, blaming me when things went wrong. Harry and I were too soft on him.”
Draco remained silent, unable to find anything else to add. He agreed with the last statement. Then again, as a Slytherin, unconditional forgiveness wasn’t really his thing.
“Circe above, I knew that he and Harry took that damned book and learned what spells they could before they put it back,” she continued in a low growl. “I just didn’t think he’d use that on me. Me! I’ve saved his ungrateful ass more times than I can count. His marks. His laziness. I’ve covered up for it all, and how does he repay me? By cheating on me, insulting me, and trying to bloody kill me.
“And how do I respond,” her rant went on without abating, “I turn into a predictable pile of female stereotypical goo. I weep, I bawl, I isolate myself. I revert into a heart broken, love sick fourth year, for Merlin’s sake. I hate that I care so much. I hate how much it hurts. It hurts so much, Draco.”
Her unspoken plea pulled at his heartstrings. His body moved on instinct, raising from his seat to her side. As her voice broke at last, silent tears slipping down her cheeks, warm, strong arms slipped around her waist. He drew her back against his chest, head settling upon her own. She embraced him, once more letting her grief soak his shirt.
“You aren’t weak,” he murmured, hand running up and down back to sooth her. “You, Hermione Granger, are the strongest woman I know.”
They stayed for some time like that, sand slipping down hourglass of life.
~~~ | ELEMENTARY | ~~~
“How come Draco could see through Hermione’s wards?” Pansy asked in the loud, over full Great Hall.
Neville watched as Ginny and Harry exchanged a silent conversation. His eyes slid from his friends to the other tables. For the duration of the tournament there were no official House tables, with the influx of people, the Headmistress didn’t want to restrict where people sat. Habit proved to be hard to change, as most kept to their table. That didn’t stop the four of them from settling at the surprisingly full Slytherin table, where many of the trainees took residence due to the lack of current students.
“You know that magic is all about intent and concentration, right?” Harry began. Pansy nodded, cueing the Boy-Who-Lived to continue. “When we make wards, we want to do something, usually keep someone or something out or away. A normal ward covers everything, and basic wards are rather rigid. If I cast your normal silencing ward, it will block all sound from leaving or coming into the area. A privacy ward will block everyone from coming or going.”
Pansy nodded, a scowl upon her face. Neville knew the feeling. Often times, when Harry or Hermione would explain something they found new, well, many raised in the magical community found it redundant. Whereas a person, like Ron, often didn’t pay attention to such lessons, he knew that many were not as oblivious.
“I know, I know, it’s all basic and all that rubbish, but it’s important,” Harry rushed, a slight flush on his face. “It’s just, that, when we were on the run, Hermione played with wards. We were kind of bored, alone in the woods, you know.” A hand self consciously rubbed the back of his head. “Long story short, she found a way to manipulate the wards to allow only those she wanted to have access through them. She could tunnel certain people into the wards. It’s how Ron and I knew where the camp was after we left it.”
“While that’s advanced and all, it’s not exactly surprising, Potter,” Pansy snorted. “Any witch or wizard can do that with enough practice.”
“What I’m getting at, Parkinson, is that when using the basic wards, she gives only those she wants a tunnel,” Harry bit out.
Neville watched as the light of realization sprang to life in her chocolate eyes. A slow, devious, pleased smile grew upon her face before she turned and squeezed the life out of him. Her delighted squeal brought the attention of many to their small group. Some laughed, others rolled their eyes, and Harry and Ginny smirked.
“She’d make wards at the Burrow whenever Ron ticked her off and she needed to calm down,” Ginny added in a conversational tone, reaching for a roll.
“That ended with either of us or George going to straighten her out,” Harry nodded before he stuffed a piece of turkey into his mouth.
“Pansy, can I at least eat,” the brunette whined.
“I could kiss you, Potter,” Pansy beamed as she released Neville from her hold. “But I won’t. Ginevera, I leave you to do so.”
“My pleasure, Miss Parkinson,” the cheeky reply.
“For the record, I still hate all of you,” Neville grumbled.
“But a happy Hermione is a good Hermione,” Harry grinned, fork bobbing at his friend.
“She’s also a fun Hermione,” Ginny inserted. “Imagine what Hermione would’ve been like if she embraced one of the twins.”
“I don’t want to die from pranks, thanks,” Neville deadpanned, skewering a green bean.
“Besides, she balances Draco,” Pansy nibbled on her roll with a thoughtful glint in her eyes. “Despite how hard she is now, he’s been more open and compassionate since they’ve become friends.”
“She is a bit more carefree,” Ginny agreed. “They are a good match.”
“His parents?” Harry quirked an eyebrow.
“Slytherin,” the Slytherin shrugged. “Adaptable and self-preserving. If they were smart, they’d see that their son becoming attached to her as the social boon it is. They would know to swallow their pride and shed their skin and become tolerant at the very least. Narcissa will, at the very least, support her son’s decision.”
“She would do anything for him,” Harry murmured. “Has already, really. Lucius is who I worry about.”
“He is kind of terrifying,” Neville mumbled.
“That asshole got me possessed first year,” the youngest Weasley growled.
“Do I want to know?” Pansy raised a manicured brow.
“He’s a manipulative asshole who uses children as pawns for his own purposes,” Ginny muttered, smashing her potatoes with unnecessary force.
“While all true, I will let that story slide for another time,” Pansy diplomatically stated. “Lucius has not ‘real’ power since Draco is technically the head of the family.” They all nodded, remembering the trials that took place in June. “That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be afraid of him. He’s always disliked Hermione, and when he finds out, it won’t be pretty. He is still influential, even in a cell.”
“Well, this has been cheerful,” Neville groaned, rolling his eyes.
“As long as he doesn't team up with my idiot of a brother,” Ginny echoed the boy’s action.
“Merlin, I hope not,” Harry sighed.
“At least tomorrow is the last day of the tournament,” Pansy hummed.
“I can’t wait to see Lavender and Ron duel,” Ginny gave wicked grin.
“Five galleons that Lavender beats him into submission,” the Slytherin girl answered with a similar expression.
“That’s a sucker’s bet,” Harry laughed. “A woman scorned and all of that.”
The talking continued for a few minutes later and, as the desserts popped onto the table, Neville thought back to the duel. Ron’s last spell, he did not recognize. Expressions from Harry and Draco flitted through his mind, and still he could not see what made that particular spell bad. Their reaction wouldn’t have been out of place for an Avada, and he knew it wasn’t an unforgivable. Those he knew far too well by now.
“Hey, Harry,” Ginny piped up, “What spell did my idiot of a brother use that made you all lose control?”
The Chosen One nearly dropped the sizable piece of treacle tart at the question. Blood fled his face, leaving a white face behind, scar standing out.
“That bad?” Pansy’s brow furrowed.
“Y-you remember sixth year, and w-what happened to Malfoy?” Harry stuttered, his adam’s apple bobbing.
Pansy’s face turned a similar, pallid shade. If pressed, Neville would even say it looked green. She raised a hand and pressed it to her mouth, eyes wide in shock and surprise, unable to keep her Slytherin mask. Neville knew his face reflected Ginny’s, alarmed confusion.
“What exactly…?” Ginny trailed off in concerned shock.
“It was horrible,” Harry whispered. “So much blood from everywhere. I-I couldn't stop it. If it weren’t for Snape, well, the spell wouldn’t exist in the first place, but… I mean, he, Malfoy, would have died.”
“The scars he has are extensive and horrible,” Pansy bit her lip, eyes swimming from the memory. “He was so weak afterwards, too. A-and Weasley used that on Hermione, knowing what it would do?”
“Y-yeah,” Harry stuttered. “When I used the spell, I didn’t know what it would do. I-I found the spell in a borrowed potions book. Come to figure out that it was Professor Snape’s, and he made the spell for it. I-I thought it would do something more benign, like, hang him from his ankles in the air or something. N-nothing so lethal. Ron, though, he knew exactly what it would do when he cast it today. In the end, the spell was never introduced to Voldemort or the Death Eaters.”
“So, the only people who knew of the spell were you, Snape, Malfoy, Hermione, and Ron,” Neville picked up the strings of thought. “With only you and Malfoy still alive to know what it looked like.”
“He is so getting a Howler tomorrow, and hell for the rest of his life,” Ginny ground out, form shaking next to Harry.
“No wonder she broke down like that,” Pansy leaned back. “Circe above, I don’t know if I’d be able to finish that duel in the first place.”
“Talk about betrayal,” Neville agreed with a heavy sigh.
“But still,” a small smirk growing on the Slytherin girl’s face. “At least she wanted Draco to comfort her.”
Neville smacked his head as the girls shared a mischievous grin. Merlin help him.