Year 5 - Stockholm

Chapter 9

Mythical Creatures

Hermione tossed out a note, unread, as she readied for patrol. It had been a great Sunday with her friends. She spent the rest of the afternoon with Harry and Ron, just as they used to always be. Her stomach hurt from all the laughing.

Draco sent her two notes that afternoon. She had avoided him all day. Neither note was opened. She didn't want the happy times with Harry to stop. It was a distant memory when she had a time with him that wasn't soured with depression or irritation or withdrawn silence. Draco's notes would have ruined it all.

Now the reality that their night would be spent together twisted her nerves into a bundled knot, eager to just suffer through the pain and be done with his company once and for all. He'd be angry enough to admit defeat.

Two braids rested at her shoulders, a dense pair of black leggings beneath her skirt and a pullover, and she was ready for her night in the cold castle. With him.

Given the chance to rebond with her best friends, Hermione discovered a deeper resolve to resist Draco Malfoy's attempts to force their acquaintance. He would see reason. Even if she was the one thrusting into down his throat. They could not continue. She was needed again, by her boys. There was no time for other time expenditures.

She nibbled at some biscuits, then vanquished their existence in the form of their little crumbly crumbs all over her lap.

Drogon helped himself to the other half on the table. The ginger snap was devoured in loud hacking bites. She rolled her eyes.

"If you'd ask, I'd break it up for you." She snickered as he continued to bite the biscuit to pieces. "One last pet, and I've got to go. Don't wait up."

His ears perked, so did his head.

It was something he'd done before. The night before. Just as she was getting ready to leave him the second time at Gryffindor Tower, he'd perked his head up, expecting something. She leaned down and gave him a little kiss.

A sudden purr erupted on her leg. His head snuggled against her shoulder. Little ears pushed flat against his skull as he begged for affection.

"Alright, alright. I've got to go," she giggled. "Don't want the tosspot getting angry."

She told her friends goodnight and climbed out the portrait hole onto the staircase. A night gust of cool air greeted her. The pullover did well to block out most of it, but still some slipped through the fibers.

She kicked herself for not packing her snowsuit. On patrol, it'd help greatly.

It was a gift from her parents for one of their holiday trips skiing in Switzerland. The entire thing was silvery and reflective in the brilliant white of mountain tops. Her parents almost adorned the puffy silver suites themselves to create a family of reflective marshmallows skiing down the slopes.

Most holidays were spent with the Weasley's now. And Harry.

The castle was quiet as she walked through the long stretching corridors. It seemed larger in the black. Noises echoed kilometers without interruption. A chill shook her limbs. A night alone within a castle such as this frightened groups of Muggles, in fear of spirits and demons, and part of Hermione's mind went straight for those ghosts stories that used to terrorize her dreams.

Now the true fear was of something else.

"So you are alive." A cold voice shot through the darkness. It rattled her nerves. "Funny. My requests went unanswered today. Care to explain? Pet."

He spat the nickname out his mouth in discernable disgust.

She was ready for his attacks. One breath was all she allowed before she replied, "No. Let's start at the owlery. Then work our way back."