Handful of Hollow

Chapter 4: Seeds

She lives on the reflections of herself in the eyes of others She does not care to be herself.
--Anais Nin

***

It was widely acknowledged as fact that the Slytherin dormitories were located in the dungeons of Hogwarts.

Millicent alternated between feelings of amusement and annoyance toward her non-Slytherin classmates and their willingness to believe this supposed exile of Slytherin house to the cold, barren depths of the castle. Amusement because no parent could realistically be expected to pay the tuition of the school only to have their children quartered underground. It was amazing that the students of Hogwarts could believe otherwise. Annoyance because what those ridiculous students lacked in logic, they more than made up for in prejudice; Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and even the cleverest Ravenclaws did not question what, Millicent assumed, they thought a fitting dwelling situation for Slytherin House.

Grudgingly, Millicent acknowledged that there was some reason behind the assumption; the Slytherin common room was indeed located in the dungeons. The dorms, however, were in fact located on the castle’s ground floor, accessible only through a steep, narrow staircase that began in the common room and ended at a wide landing in the center of a long hall. On each end of the hall were seven rooms - girls to the left and boys to the right. The dorms were spacious, attractively furnished, and very well – and naturally - lit. They were essentially everything the common room was not.

While Millicent could, on some base level, appreciate the dramatic visual effect of the common room’s decor, she had never been very fond of it. She found the low stone ceiling oppressive, the dim greenish lighting, chill humid air, and austere leather furniture less than inviting. And of course, the presence of her housemates had lately made the room even more off-putting than usual. Unfortunately, there was no other entrance to the dorms. At times this was an inconvenience, to say the least.

Like the countless number of doors and staircases within Hogwarts, the dungeon corridors were known to frequently move, hide, and disappear altogether. This could become frustrating, but most Slytherins – Millicent included – agreed that the inconvenience was more than made up for by the privacy that the well-concealed common room entrance provided. Unfortunately, even now, Millicent found herself quite lost on occasion.

This would be one of those occasions. Since leaving the library some twenty minutes ago, Millicent had been wandering around the dungeons like a lost first-year.

Turning into another dead-end, Millicent groaned. Her growing irritation was only slightly quelled by the fact that it was a Sunday, not a school day, and she was only trying to find her way to the common room, not to a class. Millicent turned around, her heavy step pounding through the empty corridors. No matter her destination, she was tired and did not appreciate the corridors’ annoying prank. Swearing, she said as much.

Her voice echoed tauntingly down the long hall - familiar only because each hall varied little from the next – and eventually faded off as she came to a four-way junction that she was certain had not been there before. Stopping several feet short of the intersection, Millicent put down her books and pulled out her wand.

“Point me,” The wand, immediately responding to her command, began to spin in her palm.

She hadn’t even been walking in the right direction.

Millicent picked up her books and rounded the left corner rather too sharply. Colliding hard with another student, she dropped both the wand and her books.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Millicent rubbed her shoulder and glared at the boy, whom she vaguely recognized as a Ravenclaw from her Arithmancy class. His eyes wide, he mumbled a nervous apology before hurrying toward the wand, which had rolled several feet away.

Millicent kneeled and gathered her books, watching as the boy carefully picked up her wand between two fingers. He held it as far from himself as was possible, as if the wand might be as dangerous as he seemed to think its owner.

Millicent thought it odd that she had not heard him coming until she noticed that the boy was carrying his shoes in one hand. More interesting was that his robes were draped over one arm. Thoughtfully, she took in the sharp red flush of the boy’s cheeks and his slightly matted hair. She noted with interest that the boy’s shirt was partially unbuttoned, opening at the neck to reveal flushed skin glistening with sweat. As he neared, holding the wand toward Millicent and stumbling through another timid apology, Millicent stood. Shrugging, she took her wand, then shoved past the boy, not bothering to tell him he was heading for a definite dead-end.

Millicent had only walked a few more steps down the hall when Draco materialized through what had appeared to be a solid wall, tugging wrinkled robes over his very disheveled clothing.

Comprehending at once, Millicent almost laughed, just managing to stop herself before Draco caught sight of her. Instead she nodded. Draco stilled and frowned. At length, he nodded back, then slid a slim arm through a sleeve of his robe.

As he walked forward, she hesitated. “Malfoy…” she began, faintly aware that her mouth seemed to be acting independently from her pride.

Working his hands through his uncharacteristically mussed hair, Draco passed Millicent without so much as a second glance. Consumed by first a surprising regret, then fury, Millicent turned to watch Draco’s retreating figure.

***

Directly after her Arithmancy class on Monday afternoon, Hermione headed to the library. Madam Pince smiled favorably as she entered, and Hermione gave a broad grin in return. Since leaving the infirmary on Saturday morning, she’d hardly managed to shake off Ron and Harry long enough to do any schoolwork or attend to her prefect duties, much less escape to the solace of the library. After her four-day absence, this felt like a homecoming.

As had recently become her habit, Hermione made her way through the stacks towards the rear of the long room. She’d brought work from several classes, but was nonetheless hoping to find Millicent present, as she’d spent most of the previous night preparing some notes for their project. Turning into the most secluded corner of the room, she was pleased to find her hopes satisfied. However, as Millicent appeared to be entirely occupied at that precise moment, Hermione paused discreetly some distance from the scene before her.

Standing straight with her thick arms folded firmly across her broad chest, Millicent was glaring at a couple of Slytherin boys from across a long table. As the tense silence stretched on, Millicent placed her palms on the table top, and leaned forward. The students looked terrified. When she gave her head a slight jerk, the young Slytherins cautiously stood up, gathered their belongings, and moved to another table a safe distance away. Her usual table free, Millicent sat down with a satisfied smirk and began to unload her bag.

In spite of herself, Hermione grinned. Had the unfortunate students been from any other house, she would have been horrified to see such a petty misuse of seniority. But her prefect status was momentarily forgotten in the faint thrill of seeing Slytherins respond to authority, unfounded though it may have been.

As Hermione took a seat across the table from Millicent, the Slytherin looked up with slight surprise. "Granger. Fancy seeing you here.”

“Hi.” Hermione began sorting through her stack of books, then unloaded her own bag, withdrawing the two Muggle books Millicent had lent her and several rolls of parchment.

“Feeling better?”

“Yeah, lots. Thanks for asking.” Holding out the books, Hermione smiled. “I wanted to thank you for these.”

Millicent shrugged. “Well, I didn’t think you’d have much else to do. And I thought they were interesting…”

Hermione spread the parchments flat and nodded. “They were, very.” She gestured toward the parchments. “I took some notes on them as I read.”

Looking intrigued, Millicent leaned forward.

“Most are just in response to your own observations, but they sort of gave me an idea of some more things we ought to address.”

Nodding, Millicent took the stack of parchment from Hermione and began to read. After a moment, she looked up, the barest hint of a smile curling her lips. “We could practically use this for an outline.”

“Well, not exactly. I mean, that’s only from two books,” Hermione answered sensibly, though she was flattered by the suggestion.

“Yes, but still. A very thorough approach.”

Attempting a casual shrug, Hermione watched with pleasure as Millicent continued to flip through the parchments. Not many Gryffindors appreciated Hermione’s thorough approach to her studies. Harry and Ron certainly didn’t. Their own academics had been in steady decline since the beginning of the year, Quidditch having become their primary concern of late. Which reminded her…

“Um…”

“Hm?” Millicent didn’t look up, but her curiosity taking control, Hermione continued.

“I was just wondering how it is that you know Ellis.”

Absently, Millicent glanced up from the parchments. “Bliss? We met in Cambridge.”

“Oh?” Hermione supposed that Millicent’s indifferent tone ruled out the possibility that Ellis had been bullied into the delivery of the Muggle books, which she had considered unlikely anyway. But it didn’t explain what would make a Gryffindor go out of her way to do a favor for a student from her rival house. It was a rare Gryffindor who could manage civility of any sort toward a Slytherin, and the opposite was even truer. If Ellis hadn’t been forced into the delivery, it almost fell to reason that she and Millicent were friends, or at the very least, friendly.

Somehow, Millicent didn’t seem the sort to make a habit of befriending Gryffindors.

Carefully, Hermione considered how she might best press the issue without seeming to pry.

Millicent certainly hadn’t seemed perturbed by the question, but as she continued to read through the notes, her preoccupied expression gave way to one of unmistakable irritation. Whether or not that was Hermione’s doing, the look hardly invited further inquiries. Perhaps it would be wise to drop the matter for now.

Hermione inked a quill and opened a text-book, working quietly until Millicent put down the parchments. Hermione looked up to see Millicent’s mouth now twisted in a frown as she sorted through her bag again, this time producing several more paperback texts. “You might find something of interest in these as well,” she said.

Nodding, Hermione began to reach for the books, but doubtfully Millicent pulled them back and sighed. “Look, Granger…”

Feeling foolish, Hermione dropped her arm. “What’s wrong?”

Reluctantly, Millicent put down the books and pushed them across the table. “I don’t think it’s fair…” she trailed off thoughtfully. “Just… remember that this is supposed to be a joint effort.”

“I know that.” Hermione was vaguely startled at the intensity of Millicent’s expression. Whatever was troubling the girl, it was obviously more than just the notes.

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate your… focus. But don’t take on too much. We have the whole year, and I am your partner in this.”

Curiously, Hermione opened one of the books, pleased to see that it was marked and scribbled upon much as the first two had been. She closed the book again, looking back to Millicent’s critical gaze.

“Really, I just had so much time to myself. And they were interesting. That’s all.” This was certainly true. And yet Hermione had been as pleased with the books as she’d been with any of her birthday gifts. The gesture had been unmistakably friendly. Maybe she had gone too far with the notes, but if that were true, it had only been to show her gratitude.

“Yes, but all the same…” Again, Millicent sighed. “This isn’t going to work if we’re each just working at our own paces, passing notes. We’re going to have to work together eventually.”

Her unease escalating quickly, Hermione leaned back in her chair. “What do you mean? I thought we were.”

Millicent’s expression shifted to one of doubt. “I just…look, if you think this is a bad idea, you should say so now. I get the impression that you’re not really comfortable around me, and –“ Shrugging, Millicent went on. “I would understand if you wanted out. I imagine this setup has been rather difficult for you so far. It’s pointless if we can’t work together without feeling…” Running her fingers through her hair, Millicent looked away. “I don’t know.”

Hermione nodded carefully. Millicent was wrong in part. The Gryffindors had already pretty much dropped the matter. The barrage of questions that had arisen in the beginning had mostly been in regard to Hermione’s safety and sanity, but her impatience - and eventually her anger - had effectively discouraged any further such questions, even from Ron and Harry. It was true that she’d felt a good deal of wariness toward her partner in the beginning, but that had lessened considerably of late.

It was clear that Millicent was dealing with more.

“Do - do you mean that you want out?” Hermione finally asked.

Millicent looked a bit startled, then gave a dry smile and shook her head. “It doesn’t matter to me.”

Hermione understood. It was too late. The damage was done. “Then I’d rather we kept going.”

“Yeah?” A look of surprised relief crossed Millicent’s face.

Hermione smiled a little, then stood and rounded the table to sit at Millicent's side. “Yeah.”

***

Although there were no official Astronomy classes held on Friday evenings, several dozen students from various years and houses had already been scattered atop the Astronomy tower when Hermione and Ron had finally arrived. While many of these students had been, and still were, involved in activities that were definitely not scholastic, the majority of Hermione’s schoolmates were seemingly there for the lunar eclipse, which was already an hour underway.

Like Hermione, their rapt attention was focused on the moon, brilliant behind the shadow that slowly crossed it. With some degree of determination, Hermione was ignoring the equally rapt gaze of Ron, which was focused on her. One of his hands had been lightly grazing the small of Hermione’s back for the past quarter hour, but at this moment it was sliding lower and he was pulling closer.

“Ron…”

Tangling one of Hermione’s unruly curls around one long finger, Ron leaned forward, pushing his lips to Hermione’s jaw. “Hmm?”

Hermione closed her eyes for a moment, but catching herself on the verge of giving in to a sigh, she opened them again and pulled back slightly. “Are you listening?” Ron moved forward. No, obviously not.

Hermione had invited Ron to accompany her to see the eclipse that night hoping that the presence of so many students might discourage his affection for at least a few hours, but now Hermione was wondering whether Ron had heard anything other than “you” “me” and “astronomy tower” in her invitation. Putting a protesting hand to Ron’s chest, Hermione tried again. “Ron, I’ve been thinking.”

Ron pulled closer at this and slipped his arms around Hermione’s waist, his mouth now inches from her ear. “‘Bout what?”

“About…” Hermione was finding the warmth of Ron’s breath quite distracting. “About us.”

“Oh yeah?” Ron nuzzled his cheek softly against Hermione’s neck. She could feel his mouth turn up in a smile against her skin.

“Ron, don’t.”

Ron pulled back at this, holding Hermione’s shoulders at arms’ length. That seemed to have gotten his attention, Hermione thought, seeing the sudden appearance of worry on Ron’s gentle face. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

Hermione hesitated, then looked away.

Hermione had had very few dealings with unwanted attention in the past. The closest thing to a real relationship she’d ever had had been with Viktor Krum, and she’d not had to break up with Viktor, as he’d saved her the trouble. Still, they had parted on good terms and still owled one another occasionally.

After Viktor, early into her fifth year, a sixth-year Hufflepuff had asked her out. She’d declined because of her lasting hopes for Ron. Shortly after, she’d said no to Dean for the same reason. And that was it.

Since her injury a week ago, Hermione’s increasing discontent had convinced her that her relationship with Ron was going nowhere. Exactly what that meant, however, was hard to admit, especially when, as now, Ron was looking at her with such genuine concern.

“I just… don’t want to do that tonight…” Hermione trailed of lamely as the concern on Ron’s face gave way to obvious hurt.

Ron stood slowly, then reached out and placed his hand softly on Hermione’s head. “I should get downstairs. Promised Seamus a chess match.” Ron forced a weak smile before turning.

“Ron, don’t–“ Hermione started to reach for his hand when a series of gasps stopped her. Glancing upwards, Hermione sucked in a breath.

The shadow crawling across the moon had by this time changed to a stunning red. Spellbound, the students on the tower fell still and silent as the eclipse swallowed the last sliver of white. It was the kind of ethereal beauty that demanded pause.

Seconds later, some awed conversation resumed. Remembering herself, Hermione looked back to where Ron had been standing a moment before. He was already gone.

***

Directly after the eclipse, most of the students who’d been atop the Astronomy Tower had returned to their dorms, their departing chatter sounding distinctly excited. Millicent, however, felt only unsettled. The eerie image of a moon the color of fresh blood had burned itself into her mind.

Millicent had stayed a while, even after the eclipse had so reluctantly began to release the moon, thoughtfully considering Professor Trelawney’s earlier lecture in Divination.

Her firm pessimism, dramatic appearance, and tasteless costumes had earned Trelawney an unflattering reputation, but all theatrics aside, Trelawney was actually quite well-versed in Divination and magic in general. Millicent thought her a capable teacher, and had, for years, found her lectures quite interesting.

That afternoon her class had largely pertained to the subject of the moon in divining. Briefly Trelawney had reviewed the more common meanings associated with the moon: a universal measure of time, a sign of eternity, of change, of death and rebirth, rise and decline. She’d gone on to discuss how the moon could be read at its different phases or in different weather in both ancient and modern times. The moon was seen as an integral part of early divining, as it was considered a gateway between the diviner and her visions. Some diviners still preferred to work at night, particularly under a full moon – this was certainly true for Millicent.

Eventually Trelawney had gone into detail on the subject of eclipses. More superstition than fact, an eclipse was said to poison one’s sanity, to be an omen of coming disaster, of the downfall of good.

Millicent did not doubt that Trelawney had witnessed tonight’s eclipse with wholehearted dread.

As the tower emptied, Millicent shivered slightly. Finding herself alone with only the few especially amorous couples that remained, Millicent stood up to go as well. As she turned toward the stairs, however, she was surprised to see Hermione sitting alone at the other end of the tower, still watching the sky.

Millicent stared contemplatively for a moment, vainly trying to identify the look on Hermione’s face. It wasn’t at all like the unease Millicent was feeling herself, but Hermione looked troubled all the same. Lonely, maybe.

As if Millicent had called her name, Hermione instinctively turned her head from the sky and toward Millicent, then smiled a slow unsteady smile.

Millicent nodded, pulled her bag over her shoulder and walked toward Hermione’s bench. “Are you staying long?”

“No, actually, not long at all.”

Millicent nodded. “I’ll wait for you.”

“Thanks,” Hermione said uncertainly before she shoved a book and a scroll into her bag. A couple of Gryffindor boys passed, casting twin distrustful gazes at Millicent. Millicent quirked an eyebrow, and they frowned and looked away, quickening their synchronized paces.

Hermione, still bent over her things, didn’t appear to have noticed. “Oh, I’d completely forgotten.” Hermione said as she withdrew her hand from her bag and held it out to Millicent. Curious, Millicent extended her own hand, allowing Hermione to drop what looked like a Chocolate Frog card into her open palm.

Drawing it closer, Millicent was a little surprised to see that it actually was a Chocolate Frog card. That is, until she saw the very familiar pair of cold blue eyes blinking up at her. Turning the card over, Millicent read the terse description of Carling’s contribution to the wizarding world, then turned back to the side with the picture. “She would have hated this,” Millicent acknowledged.

“So you were related, then?”

“She was my grandmother.” Reluctantly, Millicent held out the card to Hermione again.

“It’s all right, I don’t collect them.”

Nodding, Millicent tucked the card into the pocket of her robes. There were few pictures of Carling in existence, as she, like Millicent, had never held any illusions of being beautiful. Besides being fiercely protective of their privacy, most Bulstrodes were camera shy as well. Millicent had been unexpectedly moved to see that face again for the first time in three months.

“Thanks.” Millicent was annoyed at the unsteadiness in her voice, and she did not look up again until she’d regained her composure. First the eclipse, and now this had made her infuriatingly susceptible to her emotions.

When she did look up, Hermione had politely averted her gaze to the sky. “You must have been very close.”

Millicent looked to the moon as well, again shining white against the profoundly blue sky. “She lived with my family from the time I was seven.”

“That must have been amazing for you. She did so much…”

Millicent hmmed in agreement, unsurprised that Hermione was familiar with Carling’s work.

A calm silence fell between the girls for a few moments, but when Millicent looked back down at Hermione, the girl’s mouth was twisted in thought. “I was wondering…” she began, looking up.

Millicent nodded, and Hermione continued.

“Well, you said you know Ellis from Cambridge. But I was thinking and... How is it that you met?”

Grateful for the change in subject, Millicent smiled a little. It was true that she and Ellis were certainly from different social circles. The Bulstrode wealth was firmly established - as old as the Malfoys’. The Radclyffe Hall Estate spanned dozens of acres outside of the city and was impressive to say the least. Bliss on the other hand had been raised by her struggling unmarried Muggle mother in a flat in one of the less prestigious areas of Cambridge. Doubtlessly, Hermione knew this. The Bulstrodes would have had little cause to have ever come into contact with Ellis or her mother.

“Why didn’t you ask her?”

Hermione looked a little uncomfortable, but did not hesitate in answering. “I did, actually. She suggested that I ask you.”

“Really?” Absently, Millicent wondered how many Gryffindors would have done the same. For all their love of chivalry and decency, the Gryffindor moral code was somewhat lacking when it came to dealing with Slytherins. She had to admit that Bliss, however, was a comrade of sorts. “That was considerate of her.”

Hermione looked curious at this, but as Millicent offered no elaboration, she nodded before slipping her bag over her shoulder.

“I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”

Thoughtfully, Millicent watched Hermione as she fastened the clasp on her bag, and moved to stand. For a girl so well known for her curiosity, she had certainly given up easily enough. Hermione couldn’t quite conceal her disappointment, however. Slightly perplexed by her own intentions, Millicent moved forward.

“No, it's fine.” Millicent glanced at the bench. “Do you mind?”

“No, no not at all.” Hermione seemed glad to move aside, allowing Millicent a comfortable space beside her.

Millicent had been considering whether or not she should out herself to Hermione for some time now. If she didn’t, it was likely that someone else would – assuming they hadn’t already. Still, Millicent didn’t see the issue of her sexuality being of any real potential consequence to the Gryffindor, who was known for being quite progressive in her politics, and who, of course, already had reason enough to hate her, and yet amazingly enough, did not. But Millicent knew that hers wasn’t the only reputation at stake; she was risking the assumption that Bliss had been prepared to be outed as well when she’d deflected the question to Millicent…

Dismissing her reservations, Millicent screwed up her courage, took a deep breath, and began.

“I first met Bliss in Cambridge, as I said. In a bookstore.”

“A bookstore? Like a wizard bookstore?”

Cautiously, Millicent rolled her thoughts around in her mind. However she put this, there was no telling what Hermione’s reaction might be. Still, beating around the bush, as it were, never served much purpose in situations like these. “No. More like a gay bookstore, really.”

Hermione’s jaw dropped and she gasped audibly. “You mean…?”

“Yes.” Millicent was amused to see such serious shock sweep across Hermione’s face. Millicent waited patiently for Hermione to compose herself.

“Ellis too?” she finally managed.

“Well, she, ah, definitely seemed it at the time.” Millicent paused. “As did her girlfriend.”

Finally Hermione relaxed a little, though her face was still the very picture of astonishment. “I just…never would have thought it. She just seems so...” Hermione trailed off thoughtfully, narrowing her eyes.

“Normal?” Millicent ventured, a wry smile spreading across her face. Perhaps she’d misjudged Hermione. A few S.P.E.W. buttons apparently did not an open mind make.

Jolted, Hermione looked back at Millicent, her eyes open wide with embarrassment. “That's not what I meant.”

Millicent shrugged and stood. “We should get going.” By this time, they were the only two students remaining on the tower. Millicent could see no reason to let the Gryffindors worry, and already this conversation seemed to have taken an awkward turn.

Hermione stood as well, still looking abashed and somewhat flustered. “It doesn't matter to me, really,” she offered. “I mean, it doesn’t make me uncomfortable or anything. I have a lesbian aunt.”

Millicent laughed. “Everyone has a lesbian aunt.”

Hermione smiled. “Do you?”

“Well, no,” Millicent answered, again laughing. Relaxing a little, Millicent turned to Hermione, offering what she hoped was a reassuring smile. She couldn’t remember having ever given one before.

She was relieved when Hermione smiled back. Side by side the girls began to descend the staircase. “I am sorry, really. Was just a bit shocked.” Hermione laughed. “Well, I suppose that was obvious.” She paused. “Oh… Harry will be so disappointed.”

Millicent grinned.

“I just wonder…why didn't she ever tell anyone?” Hermione asked a moment later, seemingly more to herself than to Millicent.

“I'm sure she has.” Millicent answered. “She’s not shy about it.”

Hermione nodded thoughtfully. “Are you?”

“I don't think so.” Millicent shrugged. “Though this is a bit out of the ordinary.” And it was – many Slytherins knew Millicent for a lesbian, but either by rumor or assumption. Aside from Draco, no one had ever asked her directly.

As they neared the bottom of the staircase, Hermione again broke the silence. “Can I ask you something?”

There was no reason why not, at this point. “Yes.”

“Are - Have you ever…er… that is to say. Do you have a g-“

“No,” Millicent finally interrupted, when Hermione had turned an amusing shade of pink.

Hermione looked down, her cheeks still flushed. “Then how did you know?”

Millicent hesitated a moment. “I’d imagine… the same way that you knew you weren't.”

This seemed a logical enough answer, for Hermione nodded, finally looking up.

“It's just so odd.” Millicent lifted an eyebrow. “I’d just never considered it,” Hermione explained hastily. “Though, it’s not really so uncommon. One in ten, or so I’ve read.”

“Mmm.” Hermione was certainly well read on the subject, but again, Millicent was not surprised.

“But then, that does give one reason to wonder. Ten percent… I suppose this should have occurred to me before. It’s just, well, I can’t think of anyone else at Hogwarts who could be, except of course for Malfoy.”

Millicent choked on her laughter. “How did you know that?”

Hermione shrugged. “Is it supposed to be a secret?”

Pushing her hair behind her ear, Millicent gave this some thought. “Something like that. You know it’s as much of an issue in the wizarding world as it’s ever been for Muggles,” she said. “If not more.”

“I suppose so. But he’s so obvious. He uses more hair products than Parvati.”

Millicent laughed again. “Yes, and Bliss gets her hair cut by the same barber as Madam Hooch. Selective observation, you have.”

“Madam Hooch, too?” Hermione rolled her eyes toward the ceiling, smiling. “Well, I don’t guess that should surprise me. Who else? That’s only four.”

Truthfully, Millicent answered, “I don’t really know. And I probably oughtn’t tell even if I did.”

Hermione looked a bit surprised at this. “But can’t you sort of guess?”

Millicent stopped as the girls reached the junction that would part them and shot Hermione a pointed look. Softening at the genuine interest in Hermione’s gaze, she shrugged. “You mean ‘gaydar’? It's not totally reliable.”

For a moment, the girls simply looked at one another, curious expressions on both their faces. Millicent felt like she’d made some amazing discovery.

Without Draco, she’d been more alone the past few weeks than even she could really tolerate. It had been wonderful to be so open for even a few moments. She hadn’t felt so completely untroubled in weeks. Judging by the smile on Hermione’s face, the Gryffindor felt the same. “Well,” Millicent said, feeling distinctly reluctant to return to the dorms.

“Well…” Hermione answered.

“Well," came a third voice. "I should hope you have a reasonable explanation for being out of your dorms.” Startled, both girls turned to see Professor Snape approaching, a particularly unpleasant sneer across his pallid face.

He stopped a short distance from the girls and crossed his arms, apparently waiting for a response.

“We were out for the eclipse,” Hermione said, straightening her back and turning so that her Prefect’s badge glinted slightly in the hall’s torchlight. For such a small person, Millicent found it admirable that Hermione could muster such a commanding presence when the situation demanded.

Snape narrowed his eyes. “That ended half an hour ago.”

“Yes.” The girls waited expectantly. Snape merely scowled before stalking off.

Impressed, Millicent smiled again. “I suppose we should get to our dorms then. Library tomorrow night?”

Hermione nodded. “Of course.” Tossing a wave and a smile over her shoulder, she turned away.

***

“Very impressive, Longbottom.” Millicent grinned as Professor Snape, with practiced ease, extinguished the small fire that had caught when a drop of Longbottom’s failed weightlessness potion had been applied to his own desk. With another string of muttered charms, Snape banished the smoke from the air, making the Gryffindor boy visible through the hazy product of his ill-made potion. Slouching next to his nearly demolished desk, Neville looked half terrified and half furious.

“I’m taking five points for your apparent illiteracy.” Snape shook a small bottle of clearly marked, highly flammable Ashwinder Eggs in Neville’s round face. Neville grimaced.

“Don’t forget damage of school property!” Pansy offered in a helpful tone. Snape shot the Slytherins a warning look before returning his murderous glare to the shaken Gryffindor. “Clean it up.”

Classes with the Gryffindors were generally more entertaining than solo Slytherin classes, Millicent thought, her grin widening. The snickers coming from the Slytherin side of the room seemed proof enough of her housemates’ concurrence.

“Three feet on the properties of Ashwinder Eggs by Wednesday, all of you.”

Of course, there were drawbacks… Millicent sighed.

“Now get out. Except –“ his voice broke loudly over the shuffle of the departing students. “for you, Miss Bulstrode. A word, if you please.”

TBC