Post Tenebras Spero Lucem (4/?) (slytherin!H/Hr)
Title: Post Tenebras Spero Lucem (4/?)
All disclaimers and other wonders found with part 1.
----------
Harry hovered on his broom, off to the side of the pitch, as he watched his team practice maneuvers. He growled in frustration as he watched two of the new players screw up a simple maneuver for the forth time in a row.
“Again!” he barked at his team. “No one leaves this field until you get it right!”
Harry did not plan to lose the cup in his seventh and final year due to a couple of incompetent players. It had been years since one house had dominated the house cup so well. Then, it had been the Gryffindors who had blown all the other teams out of the water. Then, it had been his father who had been the Chaser who carried the team.
And there was no way in hell Harry was going to ruin that legacy by losing.
Harry watched as Draco fell back from the rest of the team, making his way over to hover near him. He looked about as irritated as Harry felt at the moment.
“They’re bloody horrible!” Draco scowled, leaning lazily on his broom.
Harry returned the look. “And they were unfortunately the best of those who tried out.”
“We’ll be here all night at this rate.”
“Not if I can help it,” Harry growled.
Draco opened his mouth to reply, but found himself interrupted by a distant voice.
“POTTER!”
The entire Slytherin team looked down to see Hermione Granger standing in the middle of the pitch, arms folded across her chest as she looked up at them.
“What the hell is she doing here?” Draco asked, echoing the sentiment of every one of the Slytherin players at the moment.
Harry took a quick glance at his watch. It was a quarter ‘til eight.
“Dammit,” he muttered under his breath. “I’ll be back,” he said to Draco before zooming down towards the girl in typical Seeker fashion.
When Harry reached the ground, he quickly dismounted his broom, Hermione storming over to him. “Were you never taught to tell time like a normal person?” she hissed at him.
“I thought I told you to sit tight,” he bit back.
“We agreed on 7 o’ clock, Potter.”
“I said 7 o’ clock to get you to stop following me around like some annoying yipping mutt,” he replied evenly. “If I recall correctly, I said *after practice* is fair game. As you can tell, practice is not yet over.”
“I refuse to work solely around your schedule,” she snapped, her eyes burning with anger and frustration. “We either compromise, or I inform Professor McGonagall that you’re not as dedicated to this as I am.”
“I swear, Granger--” he snarled.
He stopped mid-thought as the feeling of being watched crept over him. He glanced over his shoulder to see his team also on the ground, trying their best to meddle in the conversation. “There a problem?” he asked coldly.
Draco spoke for the team. “Just wondering what the mud-- what she was doing here.”
“I’m handling it,” he replied in that same even tone. He raised an eyebrow as everyone remained where they were planted. “Did I tell you lot you could stop practicing?”
A quiet murmur passed through the team.
“Malfoy, finish this up. No one leaves until that move is perfected.” He reached into his Quidditch robes and removed his key. Harry tossed it to Draco, who caught it with his free hand, as he continued his orders. “Lock everything up when you’re done.”
Draco raised a suspicious eyebrow. “And where are you going?”
Harry turned his gaze back to Hermione. “I have something I need to take care of.” He grabbed Hermione’s arm roughly and began to drag her away.
“Get off of me, Potter,” she fumed, trying to yank herself free as they walked back towards the castle.
“Next time I say sit tight?” He stopped walking and released her arm enough so that she could yank it free. “Sit tight.”
“Next time learn to read a watch,” she snapped back. She started walking again with an annoyed huff, trying to put as much distance between them as possible, but his longer legs and stride worked against her. “Thanks to you, we barely have enough time to do research and make it back to the common rooms before curfew.”
Harry rolled his eyes at her. “You’re bloody Head Girl, Granger. Who exactly is going to rat you out?”
“That’s not the point,” she replied, irritated. “The point is that being Head Girl shouldn’t give me the right to break the rules as I see fit.”
“Unbelievable,” Harry muttered under his breath as they finally reached the library. He reached the door first and pulled it open, waiting for Hermione to enter. She stopped dead in her tracks and glared at him, suspicious.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“It’s called chivalry, Granger,” he sneered. “So either accept it or don’t, but I’m not standing here all night holding a door.” When she continued to stand there, watching him like a deer caught in headlights, he shrugged. “Your choice.” With that he stepped into the library, leaving Hermione to catch the door for herself.
----------
Hermione stood in the stacks, gathering books necessary to begin her research. She had left Harry at their table, looking through the books she had gathered while she had been waiting on him to take time away from his precious Quidditch practice.
This project was going to be the death of her, she knew it. She couldn’t understand why Professor McGonagall had insisted that they work on this as a unit. The project would be time-consuming enough without also having to deal with someone as difficult as Harry. Someone who seemed to enjoy making her life uncomfortable at any costs, which is what had thrown her about his civil moment at the door.
The Harry Potter she knew did not hold doors open for girls. Or perhaps he did, but definitely not her.
Leave it to the irritating prat to actually shock her with some form of decency.
“Boys,” she mumbled, grabbing the book she needed from the top shelf.
When she returned to the table, she found her project partner asleep in his book. He had discarded of his Quidditch robes, his Slytherin green turtleneck apparently being more comfortable for research. Or in his case, sleep. Hermione rolled her eyes at him as she approached him, the urge to slam her book down upon the table to give him a rude awakening tugging at her. Just as she was about to do so, she stopped short when she heard him mumble in his sleep.
She watched him, curious. He seemed to be having a nightmare, his features screwed up in a look of pain or horror. She listened intently, trying to catch the words he seemed to be mumbling, but as quickly as his mumbling began, it stopped. Hermione stood still for a moment, almost afraid to wake him from whatever was haunting him in his dreams. She reached a cautious hand out to touch him, to wake him in a more polite fashion than she had originally planned, and she had to hold in a yelp of surprise when the arm he had not been resting on shot up and took a gentle yet firm hold of her wrist.
“It’s rude to invade a person’s personal space,” he said, his eyes still closed.
Hermione’s pulse raced as the shock continued to hover over her. “Sorry,” she finally managed. “I was just--”
Harry finally sat up, still holding her slender wrist in his warm hand. “Watching me sleep?” he smirked.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Watching you drool in a very important book.” She glanced down at his hand before returning her gaze to his. “Do you mind?”
His smirk deepened, and he finally released his hold on her. She frowned at him in disapproval. “While you were napping,” she said, taking her seat on the opposite side of the table, “I found another book we could use for research.”
Harry sat back in his seat with a sigh. “Granger, what is the rush here? McGonagall assigned us this--” He paused, glancing at his watch. “--barely twelve hours ago. Even *you* can’t be this mental about your studies.”
“It’s called being prepared,” she huffed.
“There’s a fine line between prepared and mental, Granger.” He closed up his book, exhaling deeply. “Look, I’m calling it a night. Stay and get chummy with your books until Madam Pince kicks you out if you like, but I’d actually prefer not to spend my entire night slaving over something that doesn’t even have a due date.”
“I’m amazed you make the grades you do with your horrible work ethic,” she replied with a frown.
“My work ethic is just fine,” he said, standing. He grabbed the book he had been using as a pillow and tucked it under his arm. “I, however, don’t deprive myself of an actual life unlike yourself.”
“No,” she replied angrily, “you simply leave me to do all the work.”
Harry sighed and grabbed his Quidditch robes. “Look, Granger, it’s your choice whether you stay here or not. I’m not chaining you to the table.” He smirked at her. “Use that free will in that pretty little head of yours and make a choice.”
She stared up at him, her irritation reaching its breaking point. “Fine,” she said, slamming her book closed. “We can continue this later.”
“Smart girl,” he smirked.
Hermione stood, hastily gathering her things and swinging her schoolbag over her shoulder. She stormed past him, and she could hear him laughing from over her shoulder. He soon caught up with her, Hermione silently cursing him for being so tall and able to take strides that caught hers in a heartbeat.
“Next time,” she said, not even looking in his direction, “I’d appreciate if you spent less time sleeping and more time working. Especially if you plan to prattle on while you nap.”
Harry’s hand grabbed her arm, and Hermione stopped quickly as he turned her to him. “What?” he asked simply.
She frowned at him, getting more irritated by the second by his need to constantly manhandle her. “I *said* perhaps you could spend more time doing more work.”
“No,” he countered, “you said I talked in my sleep.”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “Yes, you did. So what?”
His grip on her arm tightened, and Hermione grimaced slightly. “What did you hear?”
“Nothing,” she replied, her heart pounding wildly against her ribcage. “You were mumbling about something. I couldn’t hear what.” She paused, glancing cautiously at his hand. “You’re hurting me.”
They stood in silence for a moment before he finally released her arm, Hermione reaching up and gingerly rubbing the spot where he had grasped her. She opened her mouth to give him a piece of her mind, but he cut her off.
“Sorry,” he frowned.
Hermione blinked at him, not sure what shocked her more. His previous outburst or his present apology for said outburst. She didn’t get the chance to process what had just occurred as Harry started down the hallway again towards the Slytherin dungeons, leaving her alone with her shock.
----------
Harry made his way back to the boys’ dormitory, his mind still lingering on his nightmare. The same nightmare that had kept him awake just the night before. The same screams. The same voice delivering whispered orders. The same blood.
He had never been the type to have recurring dreams of any sort, and yet, he just couldn’t seem to shake this one. There was something about this one that made it linger in his subconscious, and at the moment, he would pay anything to get rid of it and its disturbing images for good.
Closing the door securely behind himself, Harry ignored the two pairs of eyes that trailed his every movement as he made his way to his side of the room. He tossed his Quidditch robes over his trunk at the foot of his bed, not worrying about hanging them up. He pulled off his glasses and tossed them onto his unmade bed before yanking his shirt off over his head.
“How’d practice go?” he asked as he pulled off his turtleneck.
In response, his keys landed on his bed next to his glasses. He raised an eyebrow at the keys before reaching for his glasses and slipping them back onto his face. He glanced over his shoulder to see Blaise in his own bed, reading from a textbook, and Draco standing on his side of the room, his arms folded casually across his chest.
“We finished up about forty minutes ago,” Draco replied.
Harry simply nodded in response as he sat on the edge of his bed, unlacing his trainers.
“So what was the deal with Granger?”
Slowly pulling off his shoes, Harry did not look up as he replied. “Something I needed to take care.” He finally looked up as he finished his task. “Something that’s none of your business.”
Draco remained expressionless though Harry could see a flicker of irritation come over the boy’s face. “Then the next time you feel it’s prudent to walk out on your own practice? Find someone else to finish your job.”
“Come on, Malfoy,” Harry grinned snidely, “I thought you’d enjoy getting to play captain in my absence.” His grin deepened. “We both know that’s the closest you’re ever gonna get to being in charge of the team.”
“That may be the case, but my talent, however, got me to me place on the team. I was qualified. You?” Draco smiled coldly. “You only got in because the old captain feared what would happen to him if you didn’t.”
Harry snatched up his bathrobe from the foot of his bed before standing and approaching Draco, who remained planted in his spot. “Remember that it’s that fear of me that gets you free reign in the Slytherin house, Malfoy. If I wasn’t your best mate, you’d be nothing.”
“And it’d be best if you remembered that if it wasn’t for my family, you’d be spending your holidays and summers with those insufferable mudblood relatives of yours, Potter,” he sneered. “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you.”
“I could say the same for you,” Harry replied, returning the sneer. He draped his robe over his shoulder as he made his way to the door, looking to slip in a late shower before Filch made his rounds. He called over his shoulder as he opened the door. “Be best to stay out of my business, Malfoy.”
He pulled the door firmly shut behind him.
----------
Hermione returned to the Gryffindor common room, a hand still held unconsciously to the spot where Harry had grabbed her in the hallway. The shock of the rushed apology from the boy had worn off, replaced now by her own curiosity of what was so urgent about his dream. Whatever he had been dreaming about, he apparently didn’t want anyone else to know what his subconscious held.
She strolled through the nearly empty common room, her mind still on Harry. Lost in thought, she didn’t notice Ginny curled up in a chair by the fireplace, scribbling on a piece of parchment.
“Hey, Hermione,” Ginny said, looking up from her assignment.
Hermione stopped and turned, surprised to see the other girl. “Hey,” she replied with a weak smile, finally dropping her hand from her arm. She walked over, sitting on the edge of the chair opposite Ginny’s. “I thought everyone would have called it a night by now.”
Ginny shrugged. “Well, everyone who doesn’t have a horrendous essay for Snape to finish,” she laughed quietly. “Ron just called it a night actually. You just missed him. He was gonna wait up for you, but he kept falling asleep in his work.”
Hermione smiled slightly. “That sounds like him.” She sighed and stood. “I should probably get some sleep myself.” Nodding towards the assignment in Ginny’s lap, she added, “Hopefully you’ll be able to do the same soon.”
“Just a few more lines and my masterpiece will be complete,” Ginny grinned.
Hermione laughed. “Night, Ginny.”
She made a move to leave, but before she could get far, Ginny called out to her. Hermione turned to see Ginny approaching her, a slightly worried look on her face.
“Can I ask you something?” Ginny asked.
Hermione studied the girl with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. “Sure, I suppose.”
“I overheard a couple of girls tonight, gossiping.” She shifted on her feet slightly. “They were saying that they saw you hanging out with Potter in the hallway.”
“Hanging out with Potter?” Hermione asked, reeling in the urge to touch her arm again.
Ginny simply nodded.
“I wasn’t *hanging out* with Potter,” she replied. “I was-- we were working on a project for class. Transfiguration.”
“So he wasn’t harassing you?”
“No,” she said with a quiet laugh.
“Good. He’s such a jerk.” She paused a moment before adding, “I didn’t know McGonagall gave projects.”
“She doesn’t…technically.” Hermione regretted saying that as soon as she watched Ginny raise a curious eyebrow. “It’s just…something,” she quickly added.
Ginny continued to eye her. “Right.”
“I’ll explain later,” Hermione nodded. “Right now, I need to get some sleep, and you need to finish your masterpiece.”
“Yeah,” Ginny replied with a slight smile, “Night, Hermione.” She returned to her seat by the fireplace to finish her assignment.
“Night,” Hermione said, turning and making her way to the girls’ staircase.
---------
All disclaimers and other wonders found with part 1.
----------
Harry hovered on his broom, off to the side of the pitch, as he watched his team practice maneuvers. He growled in frustration as he watched two of the new players screw up a simple maneuver for the forth time in a row.
“Again!” he barked at his team. “No one leaves this field until you get it right!”
Harry did not plan to lose the cup in his seventh and final year due to a couple of incompetent players. It had been years since one house had dominated the house cup so well. Then, it had been the Gryffindors who had blown all the other teams out of the water. Then, it had been his father who had been the Chaser who carried the team.
And there was no way in hell Harry was going to ruin that legacy by losing.
Harry watched as Draco fell back from the rest of the team, making his way over to hover near him. He looked about as irritated as Harry felt at the moment.
“They’re bloody horrible!” Draco scowled, leaning lazily on his broom.
Harry returned the look. “And they were unfortunately the best of those who tried out.”
“We’ll be here all night at this rate.”
“Not if I can help it,” Harry growled.
Draco opened his mouth to reply, but found himself interrupted by a distant voice.
“POTTER!”
The entire Slytherin team looked down to see Hermione Granger standing in the middle of the pitch, arms folded across her chest as she looked up at them.
“What the hell is she doing here?” Draco asked, echoing the sentiment of every one of the Slytherin players at the moment.
Harry took a quick glance at his watch. It was a quarter ‘til eight.
“Dammit,” he muttered under his breath. “I’ll be back,” he said to Draco before zooming down towards the girl in typical Seeker fashion.
When Harry reached the ground, he quickly dismounted his broom, Hermione storming over to him. “Were you never taught to tell time like a normal person?” she hissed at him.
“I thought I told you to sit tight,” he bit back.
“We agreed on 7 o’ clock, Potter.”
“I said 7 o’ clock to get you to stop following me around like some annoying yipping mutt,” he replied evenly. “If I recall correctly, I said *after practice* is fair game. As you can tell, practice is not yet over.”
“I refuse to work solely around your schedule,” she snapped, her eyes burning with anger and frustration. “We either compromise, or I inform Professor McGonagall that you’re not as dedicated to this as I am.”
“I swear, Granger--” he snarled.
He stopped mid-thought as the feeling of being watched crept over him. He glanced over his shoulder to see his team also on the ground, trying their best to meddle in the conversation. “There a problem?” he asked coldly.
Draco spoke for the team. “Just wondering what the mud-- what she was doing here.”
“I’m handling it,” he replied in that same even tone. He raised an eyebrow as everyone remained where they were planted. “Did I tell you lot you could stop practicing?”
A quiet murmur passed through the team.
“Malfoy, finish this up. No one leaves until that move is perfected.” He reached into his Quidditch robes and removed his key. Harry tossed it to Draco, who caught it with his free hand, as he continued his orders. “Lock everything up when you’re done.”
Draco raised a suspicious eyebrow. “And where are you going?”
Harry turned his gaze back to Hermione. “I have something I need to take care of.” He grabbed Hermione’s arm roughly and began to drag her away.
“Get off of me, Potter,” she fumed, trying to yank herself free as they walked back towards the castle.
“Next time I say sit tight?” He stopped walking and released her arm enough so that she could yank it free. “Sit tight.”
“Next time learn to read a watch,” she snapped back. She started walking again with an annoyed huff, trying to put as much distance between them as possible, but his longer legs and stride worked against her. “Thanks to you, we barely have enough time to do research and make it back to the common rooms before curfew.”
Harry rolled his eyes at her. “You’re bloody Head Girl, Granger. Who exactly is going to rat you out?”
“That’s not the point,” she replied, irritated. “The point is that being Head Girl shouldn’t give me the right to break the rules as I see fit.”
“Unbelievable,” Harry muttered under his breath as they finally reached the library. He reached the door first and pulled it open, waiting for Hermione to enter. She stopped dead in her tracks and glared at him, suspicious.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“It’s called chivalry, Granger,” he sneered. “So either accept it or don’t, but I’m not standing here all night holding a door.” When she continued to stand there, watching him like a deer caught in headlights, he shrugged. “Your choice.” With that he stepped into the library, leaving Hermione to catch the door for herself.
----------
Hermione stood in the stacks, gathering books necessary to begin her research. She had left Harry at their table, looking through the books she had gathered while she had been waiting on him to take time away from his precious Quidditch practice.
This project was going to be the death of her, she knew it. She couldn’t understand why Professor McGonagall had insisted that they work on this as a unit. The project would be time-consuming enough without also having to deal with someone as difficult as Harry. Someone who seemed to enjoy making her life uncomfortable at any costs, which is what had thrown her about his civil moment at the door.
The Harry Potter she knew did not hold doors open for girls. Or perhaps he did, but definitely not her.
Leave it to the irritating prat to actually shock her with some form of decency.
“Boys,” she mumbled, grabbing the book she needed from the top shelf.
When she returned to the table, she found her project partner asleep in his book. He had discarded of his Quidditch robes, his Slytherin green turtleneck apparently being more comfortable for research. Or in his case, sleep. Hermione rolled her eyes at him as she approached him, the urge to slam her book down upon the table to give him a rude awakening tugging at her. Just as she was about to do so, she stopped short when she heard him mumble in his sleep.
She watched him, curious. He seemed to be having a nightmare, his features screwed up in a look of pain or horror. She listened intently, trying to catch the words he seemed to be mumbling, but as quickly as his mumbling began, it stopped. Hermione stood still for a moment, almost afraid to wake him from whatever was haunting him in his dreams. She reached a cautious hand out to touch him, to wake him in a more polite fashion than she had originally planned, and she had to hold in a yelp of surprise when the arm he had not been resting on shot up and took a gentle yet firm hold of her wrist.
“It’s rude to invade a person’s personal space,” he said, his eyes still closed.
Hermione’s pulse raced as the shock continued to hover over her. “Sorry,” she finally managed. “I was just--”
Harry finally sat up, still holding her slender wrist in his warm hand. “Watching me sleep?” he smirked.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Watching you drool in a very important book.” She glanced down at his hand before returning her gaze to his. “Do you mind?”
His smirk deepened, and he finally released his hold on her. She frowned at him in disapproval. “While you were napping,” she said, taking her seat on the opposite side of the table, “I found another book we could use for research.”
Harry sat back in his seat with a sigh. “Granger, what is the rush here? McGonagall assigned us this--” He paused, glancing at his watch. “--barely twelve hours ago. Even *you* can’t be this mental about your studies.”
“It’s called being prepared,” she huffed.
“There’s a fine line between prepared and mental, Granger.” He closed up his book, exhaling deeply. “Look, I’m calling it a night. Stay and get chummy with your books until Madam Pince kicks you out if you like, but I’d actually prefer not to spend my entire night slaving over something that doesn’t even have a due date.”
“I’m amazed you make the grades you do with your horrible work ethic,” she replied with a frown.
“My work ethic is just fine,” he said, standing. He grabbed the book he had been using as a pillow and tucked it under his arm. “I, however, don’t deprive myself of an actual life unlike yourself.”
“No,” she replied angrily, “you simply leave me to do all the work.”
Harry sighed and grabbed his Quidditch robes. “Look, Granger, it’s your choice whether you stay here or not. I’m not chaining you to the table.” He smirked at her. “Use that free will in that pretty little head of yours and make a choice.”
She stared up at him, her irritation reaching its breaking point. “Fine,” she said, slamming her book closed. “We can continue this later.”
“Smart girl,” he smirked.
Hermione stood, hastily gathering her things and swinging her schoolbag over her shoulder. She stormed past him, and she could hear him laughing from over her shoulder. He soon caught up with her, Hermione silently cursing him for being so tall and able to take strides that caught hers in a heartbeat.
“Next time,” she said, not even looking in his direction, “I’d appreciate if you spent less time sleeping and more time working. Especially if you plan to prattle on while you nap.”
Harry’s hand grabbed her arm, and Hermione stopped quickly as he turned her to him. “What?” he asked simply.
She frowned at him, getting more irritated by the second by his need to constantly manhandle her. “I *said* perhaps you could spend more time doing more work.”
“No,” he countered, “you said I talked in my sleep.”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “Yes, you did. So what?”
His grip on her arm tightened, and Hermione grimaced slightly. “What did you hear?”
“Nothing,” she replied, her heart pounding wildly against her ribcage. “You were mumbling about something. I couldn’t hear what.” She paused, glancing cautiously at his hand. “You’re hurting me.”
They stood in silence for a moment before he finally released her arm, Hermione reaching up and gingerly rubbing the spot where he had grasped her. She opened her mouth to give him a piece of her mind, but he cut her off.
“Sorry,” he frowned.
Hermione blinked at him, not sure what shocked her more. His previous outburst or his present apology for said outburst. She didn’t get the chance to process what had just occurred as Harry started down the hallway again towards the Slytherin dungeons, leaving her alone with her shock.
----------
Harry made his way back to the boys’ dormitory, his mind still lingering on his nightmare. The same nightmare that had kept him awake just the night before. The same screams. The same voice delivering whispered orders. The same blood.
He had never been the type to have recurring dreams of any sort, and yet, he just couldn’t seem to shake this one. There was something about this one that made it linger in his subconscious, and at the moment, he would pay anything to get rid of it and its disturbing images for good.
Closing the door securely behind himself, Harry ignored the two pairs of eyes that trailed his every movement as he made his way to his side of the room. He tossed his Quidditch robes over his trunk at the foot of his bed, not worrying about hanging them up. He pulled off his glasses and tossed them onto his unmade bed before yanking his shirt off over his head.
“How’d practice go?” he asked as he pulled off his turtleneck.
In response, his keys landed on his bed next to his glasses. He raised an eyebrow at the keys before reaching for his glasses and slipping them back onto his face. He glanced over his shoulder to see Blaise in his own bed, reading from a textbook, and Draco standing on his side of the room, his arms folded casually across his chest.
“We finished up about forty minutes ago,” Draco replied.
Harry simply nodded in response as he sat on the edge of his bed, unlacing his trainers.
“So what was the deal with Granger?”
Slowly pulling off his shoes, Harry did not look up as he replied. “Something I needed to take care.” He finally looked up as he finished his task. “Something that’s none of your business.”
Draco remained expressionless though Harry could see a flicker of irritation come over the boy’s face. “Then the next time you feel it’s prudent to walk out on your own practice? Find someone else to finish your job.”
“Come on, Malfoy,” Harry grinned snidely, “I thought you’d enjoy getting to play captain in my absence.” His grin deepened. “We both know that’s the closest you’re ever gonna get to being in charge of the team.”
“That may be the case, but my talent, however, got me to me place on the team. I was qualified. You?” Draco smiled coldly. “You only got in because the old captain feared what would happen to him if you didn’t.”
Harry snatched up his bathrobe from the foot of his bed before standing and approaching Draco, who remained planted in his spot. “Remember that it’s that fear of me that gets you free reign in the Slytherin house, Malfoy. If I wasn’t your best mate, you’d be nothing.”
“And it’d be best if you remembered that if it wasn’t for my family, you’d be spending your holidays and summers with those insufferable mudblood relatives of yours, Potter,” he sneered. “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you.”
“I could say the same for you,” Harry replied, returning the sneer. He draped his robe over his shoulder as he made his way to the door, looking to slip in a late shower before Filch made his rounds. He called over his shoulder as he opened the door. “Be best to stay out of my business, Malfoy.”
He pulled the door firmly shut behind him.
----------
Hermione returned to the Gryffindor common room, a hand still held unconsciously to the spot where Harry had grabbed her in the hallway. The shock of the rushed apology from the boy had worn off, replaced now by her own curiosity of what was so urgent about his dream. Whatever he had been dreaming about, he apparently didn’t want anyone else to know what his subconscious held.
She strolled through the nearly empty common room, her mind still on Harry. Lost in thought, she didn’t notice Ginny curled up in a chair by the fireplace, scribbling on a piece of parchment.
“Hey, Hermione,” Ginny said, looking up from her assignment.
Hermione stopped and turned, surprised to see the other girl. “Hey,” she replied with a weak smile, finally dropping her hand from her arm. She walked over, sitting on the edge of the chair opposite Ginny’s. “I thought everyone would have called it a night by now.”
Ginny shrugged. “Well, everyone who doesn’t have a horrendous essay for Snape to finish,” she laughed quietly. “Ron just called it a night actually. You just missed him. He was gonna wait up for you, but he kept falling asleep in his work.”
Hermione smiled slightly. “That sounds like him.” She sighed and stood. “I should probably get some sleep myself.” Nodding towards the assignment in Ginny’s lap, she added, “Hopefully you’ll be able to do the same soon.”
“Just a few more lines and my masterpiece will be complete,” Ginny grinned.
Hermione laughed. “Night, Ginny.”
She made a move to leave, but before she could get far, Ginny called out to her. Hermione turned to see Ginny approaching her, a slightly worried look on her face.
“Can I ask you something?” Ginny asked.
Hermione studied the girl with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. “Sure, I suppose.”
“I overheard a couple of girls tonight, gossiping.” She shifted on her feet slightly. “They were saying that they saw you hanging out with Potter in the hallway.”
“Hanging out with Potter?” Hermione asked, reeling in the urge to touch her arm again.
Ginny simply nodded.
“I wasn’t *hanging out* with Potter,” she replied. “I was-- we were working on a project for class. Transfiguration.”
“So he wasn’t harassing you?”
“No,” she said with a quiet laugh.
“Good. He’s such a jerk.” She paused a moment before adding, “I didn’t know McGonagall gave projects.”
“She doesn’t…technically.” Hermione regretted saying that as soon as she watched Ginny raise a curious eyebrow. “It’s just…something,” she quickly added.
Ginny continued to eye her. “Right.”
“I’ll explain later,” Hermione nodded. “Right now, I need to get some sleep, and you need to finish your masterpiece.”
“Yeah,” Ginny replied with a slight smile, “Night, Hermione.” She returned to her seat by the fireplace to finish her assignment.
“Night,” Hermione said, turning and making her way to the girls’ staircase.
---------