Ad Astra Per Aspera

Unresolved Conflicts

"You were absolutely awful!" Hermione stated, dumping her school things on the desk in front of Marcus. "That was cruel, selfish, and totally stupid of you."

Marcus looked nervously at her, then at the doorway. He had Charms class in a few minutes, and the rest of the Slytherins would be entering the classroom. He didn't want them to spot her.

"What did I do?" he asked, not looking at her, but instead quickly finishing an overdue homework for Flitwick.

"I'm talking about Ron!" snapped Hermione. "When - when Malfoy hexed him! You were all laughing like a bunch of trolls."

Marcus chuckled loudly. "First of all, Malfoy did not hex Weasley. Weasley managed to do that himself. Second, I find it very amusing to see a Gryffindor throwing up slugs."

Hermione glared at him, her cheeks flushed with fury. "Really?" she said coldly. "Did you also find it funny when Malfoy called me a Mudblood?"

Marcus's smile immediately faded. "Er---"

Hermione cut him off with the wave of her hand. "Because, if my memory serves me right, you actually stepped in front of the little idiot so he wouldn't get hit." She gathered her bag, and shot him an ugly look, "I really hope Gryffindor wins the next game against Slytherin."

And, Hermione stormed out of the classroom.

*

"Enemies of the Heir, beware! You'll be next Mudbloods!"

It was Draco Malfoy. He had pushed to the front of the crowd, his cold eyes alive, his usually bloodless face flushed, as he grinned at the sight of the hanging, immobile cat.

*

Following the lead of the two sixth-year Slytherin prefects, Montague and Nott, the rest of the Slytherins followed.

"Is it dead?" a first-year asked Marcus, looking terrified.

"No, I'm sure it's all right," Marcus said. "Anyway, it was just Filch's rotten cat." He cautiously looked around to find Hermione. She looked pale and was frantically talking with Potter and Weasley.

Hermione raised her head and they stared at each other for a while before turning back to their friends.

They had gotten to be quite good friends over the past year. Well, most of the time anyway. Their Gryffindor-Slytherin relationship caused various fights of which Quidditch team would win, who was about to win the House Cup, and exactly how degrading being is Gryffindor/Slytherin was. But they enjoyed their time together. Hermione was positive Marcus was the only half-decent Slytherin in the past fifty years or so, while Marcus thought the Sorting Hat had placed Hermione in the wrong house.

It was already a custom for them to meet in a secluded spot in the library on Wednesday evenings. They didn't need many excuses, and it was always the perfect time for them to catch up. Marcus would help her with any homework, and she'd tell him anything she had done within the week. It was a thrill for him to be with her, like having a little sister you could be protective over.

"Marcus," Adrian Pucey said, punching his arm in a friendly gesture, "how about a game of Quidditch?"

One more glance at Hermione, and Marcus said with a grin, "How can I say no to Quidditch?"

*

Malfoy and his goons were laughing in the Slytherin common room when Marcus returned from a dreadful Arithmancy class. It seemed as if someone had told them Christmas was coming early and bringing Gryffindor hexes with it.

"What are you doing, Malfoy?" Marcus asked. "I'd tell you to start training for Quidditch, but Snape won't let you since it's cancelled. Especially after your brilliant performance with P -"

Malfoy laughed again, and stood up from his chair. "You will not believe who's been petrified."

"Who?" asked Marcus, not looking the least bit interested.

Malfoy smirked. "Potter's friend, the Mudblood."

Oh shit, thought Marcus. Oh. Bloody. Shit.

"Too bad she isn't dead, though," said Malfoy, looking upset. "But petrified is good enough."

"What's Potter saying about this?" Marcus asked, trying to sound casual. They hadn't made up since the time they had got into a fight about Weasley throwing up slugs. This was just brilliant. Exactly when the girl gets upset with him, she had to go get herself petrified.

Malfoy shrugged. "Who gives a bloody damn?"

*

Marcus was about to board the Hogwarts Express home, when a familiar voice yelled at him to stop. Almost falling onto the rails, he turned around to see Hermione grinning at him.

"Welcome back," he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Hermione smiled pleasantly. "I'm sorry... about the fight we had in charms. It was stupid and immature of me."

"Understandable," Marcus said. "I should have laughed at your friend. Merlin knows I wouldn't have found it pleasant if you lot were laughing at me."

"So, what did you think of this school year?" Hermione asked.

"Before or after you were equivalent to a sack of potatoes?"

"Both."

"Before was unbearable because Malfoy sucks at Quidditch and McGonagall has threatened to fail me. After was the same because Quidditch got cancelled and we lost the bloody House Cup."

Hermione gave an indignant snort. "I didn't think about you either," she said, even though she was smiling.

"Oh, well," Marcus said, hugging her fondly, "I did think of you once of twice. There was this very dull looking scone I ate a few weeks ago, looked just like you."

Hermione punched his arm softly. "You're an idiot, Mr. Flint."

"I happen to be a cute idiot, I'll let you know." Marcus suddenly stopped talking. A clouded look appeared on his features. "Oi, there's a Gryffindor prefect entering my compartment." He gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "See you next year, Hermione."

Hermione shook her head as he left to challenge the Gryffindor. His views on Gryffindors certainly would not change.