Dolor Draconum

Chapter the Thirty-Second

Ron had known Hermione long enough to realise he had no hope of attracting her attention during exam period. It was still a little frustrating, but he'd had years of practice enduring it by now.

The problem was, in his eyes, she seemed plenty distracted anyway. She didn't even try to give a blow by blow account of the arithmancy exam. He'd had his I'm-sure-you-did-greats and I-bet-you've-done-better-than-you-thoughts all ready. He could have excused it if she'd gone straight back to revising, but instead she just sat in the common room.

Ron flopped down next to her. He stuck a foot out and ran it up her leg. She looked confused for a second, then smiled.

"Maybe getting up at four to revise wasn't such a good idea," she said, either failing to stifle a yawn or forcing one.

"How did your exam go?" Ron asked.

"Oh, good, I guess. There were a few I wasn't sure on."

Ron closed his eyes and let his head fall back. This wasn't Hermione. This wasn't the girl he loved.

"Malfoy was there too, right?" he said softly, hating himself for pushing the topic.

Hermione sighed.

"I'm tired, Ron, that's all. Yes, he was there. If you must know, he was asleep. He kept snoring. It was very distracting." Ron dropped his head to look and her, and Hermione caught his eye. She smiled wickedly, and he found himself chuckling at the mental image she had sketched. "You don't do Arithmancy, Ron. You always complain when I go on about exams. Can't I just be considering your feelings?"

Ron pouted. "I like being able to complain about it, though. You're denying me that vital opportunity."

Hermione seemed to consider this for a second. Ron wondered guiltily what was running through her head, whether what followed would be a relaxation of false restraints or an exercise of them. She leant forwards, elbows on her knees, chin on her hands. Her eyes were bright, and she smiled broadly.

"So," she began, "the first question was on relative magical density between wand magic and potion magic. It was for two marks. I'm certain I got both for comparing the work of Amadeus on potions and Marcellos on wands, and if that wasn't enough I brought in Borealis's treaty on units of magical density..."

Ron returned her grin and tuned out her words. All was right with the world, for now.

* * *

Draco Malfoy skipped the potions exam. A day after he'd fallen asleep in Arithmancy, he failed to turn up altogether for another of his best subjects. He didn't expect anyone to worry, though he hardly expected it to go unnoticed. In a way, he wanted it to get noticed. Maybe he even wanted someone to bring him to task about it. Of course, they wouldn't. They'd assume this was all about Hermione. No one even mentioned his father any more.

He'd chosen to do this now for a reason, a good reason. There wasn't a single Slytherin student, at least in his year, that wasn't at that potions exam. Even Crabbe and Goyle were there. Like the other failing students, both had been receiving private tutoring from Snape. Remedial Potions, just like Potter.

Draco stood in the middle of the dormitory fists clenched. Everything was connected. Everything was circling him. Even the room, at times. He needed more sleep, but every time he tried he went through the same rotation of nightmares. He didn't want to sleep anyway. The connections were like a spider's web, centring on him. Whether he was the spider or the fly, Draco hadn't decided yet, but Potter, his father, Snape, Voldemort, his mother, even Hermione were all connected to him and to each other. The point where, and when, they all came together would be that moment of revelation, that epiphany.

That moment of destiny.

Draco shook himself and glanced at the grandfather clock standing in the corner of the room. He'd already spent far longer standing around than he'd meant to on the whole project. Perhaps he should get some real sleep. Perhaps he should stop obsessing over Potter and his father's cryptic messages. Perhaps he should even give up this whole idea, go to his exam and try not to get kicked out of Hogwarts.

He gathered his scattered thoughts yet again and finally roused himself to real action. He pulled a trunk from under his bed, looked at it for a moment, and pushed it back under. He went to the wardrobe opposite his bed instead. He'd provided the wardrobe himself, spelled small by his mother so he could fit it in his bag. Now, his bag was inside it.

He decided against his school satchel and instead pulled out a rucksack he had always been deeply ashamed of owning. It was far too muggle, but also far too useful.

He placed it on the bed and frowned at it for a moment. After some consideration he began to pile items around it. To the left were his school books, specifically those that provided instructions and incantations for spells. To the right he began folding clothes, including a few pairs of trousers he could get away with should he be forced to pass through muggle territory. From his bedside cabinet he produced a small stockpile of food, collected at meals and from Hogsmeade.

Draco took a step back and studied his preparations.

"Food, clothes, magic. What else? What?" he murmured under his breath. "Money? yes. Mustn't forget my wand, either." Though he'd need that in the days before he received the summons. He wanted to be ready, but he didn't want to arouse suspicions.

Well, any more suspicions than he'd already aroused. Though he didn't think anyone would attribute his absence to anything more than his recent moodiness and tendency to fall sleep at inappropriate times. Three times in exams, twice at dinner, once at breakfast (the only breakfast he'd actually made it to that week) and five times by the lake. Well, four times by the lake, once in the lake. Hagrid, the great oaf, had had to save him, an insult he wasn't likely to live down for a long time.

The rucksack wasn't large. The books were heavy. Looking through them, Draco eventually settled on "Well Chosen Spells for Wandering Wizards" which he had bought the previous weekend. He smirked at the pile of school books left abandoned on the bed. All that book learning, all that swatting for school tests, was no use in real life. Hermione to get all the As she wanted, but when she went to work in the real world she would be completely lacking in experience and life skills.

Draco carefully avoided recognising "Well Chosen Spells for Wandering Wizards" as a book in his mental tirade against education.

On top of the book he placed only one change of clothes, all muggle. He intended to wear his wizarding clothes as much as he could, especially since for the majority of his journey they would attract the least attention, though he'd have to leave his school uniform behind. The food went in the pocket on one side of the rucksack, a small bag of galleons in the other. Making certain for the fifth time that day that his wand was still in his sleeve, Draco began cleaning up again.

His father would call him any day soon, and they would travel out of the country together. He expected to go north, maybe to Iceland, maybe east a little to one of the Nordic countries. All had ancient wizarding families that would eagerly welcome their English cousins. Trolls and giants still ran wild in the plains and forests. Elves populated Iceland, though they consider all humans to exist solely for their amusement, be they muggle or wizard. Draco thought he might have met one when they holidayed there in his childhood, since its dress was five decades outdated, by muggle standards, but then, so were his own.

He still wasn't sure how Potter would relay a message to him, especially without working out what was going on, and interfering as he always did. With his relationship with Hermione severed, Draco had effectively cut his connection to Potter as well. He hoped this wouldn't jeopardise his father's plans, but he was reasonably confident it wouldn't. Even after six years, every event in Potter's life was public knowledge among the school. People were still interested. It was a muggle thing, Draco decided with a sniff. Cult of celebrity and all that. The integrity of the school was being corrupted by muggle influences.

Draco could hear sounds coming from the common room. He hastily shoved the rest of his clothes into the wardrobe and threw himself onto the bed, intending to pretend he was asleep.

By the time his classmates reached him, he actually was.

* * *

Hermione tried to keep her anger to herself as they returned to the common room, but her companions felt no needs for such restraints. As they let lose she felt her own fury melt under the heat of theirs. With the loss of intensity there was a loss of focus, and her mind broadened. She followed the others into the common room physically, but her thoughts rapidly diverged from theirs.

"Do you know what he did?" Ron demanded of Ginny as soon as he climbed through the portrait hole. "Do you know what the arrogant git's gone and done this time?"

Ginny thought for a moment. "We're talking about Malfoy, right?"

"Who else?" Harry asked sardonically. "You won't believe this."

"What did he do?" Ginny asked patiently.

"That's the point," Harry said with a smile, flopping down next to Ginny. "We don't know."

"I don't get it."

"He didn't turn up to the exam," Harry explained.

"That guy is so certain of Snape's favouritism he doesn't even feel compelled to take the exam," Ron snorted. "Snape won't get away with it, though. Malfoy's going to fail for sure."

"I don't think even Snape's going to look too kindly on this either," Harry said. "He was grinding his teeth all through the practical, and he actually left during the theory."

"Do you think he went to find Malfoy?" asked Ginny. "In the middle of an exam?"

"Probably not. I mean, he came back quite quickly, and without Malfoy," Ron said. "Perhaps he went to report Malfoy's behaviour to Dumbledore?"

"He could have gone to find someone else to take the exam while he found Malfoy, and didn't find anyone," Harry suggested.

"Maybe he sent someone else after Malfoy," offered Ron.

"You don't think this has anything to do with his dad, do you?" Ginny dropped her voice to a whisper.

"It could, I guess," Ron murmured, wrinkling his nose as he thought. "But I'd have thought something like that would have happened sooner." He snorted. "He's probably just still sulking over Hermione."

Hermione stood up again. She didn't look angry, or particularly upset. Ron felt certain she'd have said something if she was, or at least made more of a point of it as she stood up. Instead, she was staring somewhere into the middle distance, completely distracted. Ron wondered if what he'd said even had anything to do with her current behaviour.

"Hermione?" Harry said, staring up at her.

"I have to go to the library," she said. "I'll see you at lunch." She stepped past Ron and headed straight out of the common room.

"We already had lunch," Ron said.