Abyss

Abyss

I'm losing Hermione

.

This thought accompanied him as he made his way out of the safe house.

Harry trudged on wearily, clutching at his cloak as he did so. Dawn was unforgiving that day; the wind was whooshing as it hit his clothes, making them slap his skin in almost a painful caress. The sky was dark for the sun was still hidden among layers of clouds. There was a generous amount of dew in the air, and he had to wipe away the slight moisture that built on his eyelashes and brows as he walked. The streets of Diagon Alley, once hustling and bustling with a multitude of wizards and witches, now lay deserted, almost abandoned. Pieces of lumber nailed on doors, signs hacked down from their posts, glasses cracked open in windows: these were just some of the symptoms that screamed of desolation, of death. The attack on Hogwarts was just the signal everybody hoped would never happen, as it was most definitely the start of the end for all of them. With Voldemort on the rise to power, who would want to stay and oversee the destruction of their kind? Almost immediately businesses diminished in number, one by one they shut their doors and never opened again. Though most of the Death Eaters, Malfoy's parents first and foremost, tried to stop the merchants from closing their shops, in the end their efforts remained futile, useless. In the end, only a few, like Gringotts, Flourish and Blotts, Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, and Ollivander's Wand Shop, remained open, alive.

He glanced around him, eyes always on the lookout, trying to see if there was anyone watching his movements. Satisfied that there was none, Harry pushed the door to the wand shop and stepped inside.

The warm glow from the lone bulb greeted him; as did the owner of the shop when he said, "Mr. Potter." Mr. Ollivander deposited the stacks of wand he had on his arm to the highest level of the cabinets, before he gripped on the rails of the staircase and descended. "The usual, I presume?"

Harry nodded. "Oh, but um... can you please add some extra?" At the old man's questioning look, he continued. "Two more arrived yesterday."

"Friends of yours?"

"One of them is. The other's just a nuisance."

"Ah." Mr. Ollivander went behind one of the cabinets to get his orders. After a few minutes, he came back, and there was a small sack in his hands. Harry could see the white on his knuckles as he hauled it over the counter, directly in front of him. "Here you go, Mr. Potter," he said. "Enough supplies for thirty-three individuals."

Harry took this bag, and, though he trusted the owner completely, opened it and inspected the contents thoroughly. The old man did not seem nonplussed at this, and only looked on. Harry then fished ten galleons from his pockets. "Thank you."

Mr. Ollivander accepted the money, his old eyes crinkled at the corner as he smiled. "Do be careful now, Mr. Potter," he cautioned, pocketing the money. "I have lost a lot of valuable customers these days. I trust that I won't be losing you as well."

It took him a few moments to think of a reply. Then, brimming with confidence he said, "I can assure you that I, myself, have no plans of losing whatsoever." Harry returned the smile, before he lifted the bag and walked out of the shop.

He knew that Mr. Ollivander must be baffled by his answer, but Harry had no intention of elaborating. Instead, he concentrated on walking faster, his heavy steps becoming lighter as renewed determination filled him.

I won't lose Hermione.

Of course he wouldn't. He trusted Hermione; he knew that she would come to her senses sooner or later and relearn for herself that the other boy's nothing but vile. Evil. Good for nothing. And when that day comes, he, Harry, would only be too happy to send Malfoy straight to where he belonged.

I won't lose her. Not to anybody.

Especially not to Malfoy.

*

"Where's Harry?" a student asked, and Hermione had absolutely no idea who he was. It was possible that this was the first time she'd seen him, for she was sure she would've remembered his face and the abundant supply of freckles on it. "Where's Harry? I don't see him anywhere."

"Um--" She placed a hand on his shoulder on what she hoped was a comforting gesture. "What's your name?"

"Marvin Marcial." The boy sniffled, and rubbed his already reddened nose. "I'm in Hufflepuff." Marvin sniffled again.

Malfoy snickered, and leaned closer to her. "Looks like he's got the makings of a true Hufflepuff, what with all his bawling and all." To the boy he said, "Pull yourself together, you whining--"

Hermione elbowed him on the ribs. "Shut up!"

When they left the kitchen, she and Malfoy saw that there were at least ten students already pooled inside the living room. Hermione was baffled on how they didn't see Harry as he left, but that thought deserted her as these students, upon seeing them, began their interrogation regarding Harry's whereabouts, as though Harry's absence in the house roused them all from their sleep.

"Marvin," she started, tearing the child's attention away from Malfoy. "Harry's out buying us some food."

"Where?" another student asked. When Hermione spotted the speaker, a raven-haired kid seated on the couch, he said, "Raymond Gabriel. Hufflepuff."

"Well, Raymond, Harry's at..." She turned to Malfoy in a plea for help, but to her great annoyance he seemed to find great pleasure in having her on the spot. He sure appeared content as he stood there doing absolutely nothing at all. She shot him a venomous glare before Hermione looked at Raymond. "Harry's at the... market?" she told him, grabbing the easiest, most plausible excuse she could think of. "Yes. He's out buying us some food, so naturally he's in a market."

"When will he be back?"

She resisted the urge to snap at the source of that question, a tall kid with hay for hair and slits for eyes standing beside her, and instead pulled on her most patient face as she looked at him. "And you are?"

"Eric Almony. Hufflepuff."

"Tough luck," Malfoy intoned, "being surrounded by Hufflepuffs."

"Well, if you'd just help me out here instead of standing there like a great--"

"Miss Granger?"

"Yes," Hermione hissed, and then forced her tone to turn neutral when she saw the student's obvious terror. "I heard your question, Eric. Harry will be coming home soon." She gave them all a big, toothy smile. "I promise."

"And what good does that promise make?" a burly student asked, removing himself from the wall where he was attached to a moment ago. "You're making those up, aren't you? You don't know anything."

Hermione's smile froze in place, completely astonished at his audacity. "Well--"

"Who are you?" Malfoy demanded in his bossiest voice. Hermione felt she could hug him for coming to her defense.

Except, of course, that would be awkward.

"Joey Garson," the student huffed. "Ravenclaw."

"Well, Joey," Malfoy said, undaunted by the fact that this one had his height but double his weight. "Have you ever thought that you were probably sorted in the wrong house?"

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah." Malfoy stepped forward. "You'd have to be more of a Hufflepuff to be dense enough to question us. Do you even know who we are?"

"I know who you are," Joey answered, still not faltering, and Hermione had to admire his nerves in facing a Slytherin about to strike. "But it's not like it matters to me. We're not on Hogwarts anymore, so you don't have anything over me!"

"Ah," Malfoy said, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "You're more of a Gryffindor, then, because they're a brave and stupid lot. You'll fit right in." He allowed that to sink deep before he continued. "Listen up, Garson. Even if we're not on Hogwarts you should listen to us because we're older and smarter than you are. Get it, you big lump of lard?"

The kid visibly turned purple at Malfoy's poor choice of words. Hermione was torn between berating Malfoy and thanking him for humiliating Joey, but before she spoke the Ravenclaw opened his mouth again. "I'll only listen to Harry," Joey insisted. "Why should I listen to you? Harry's beaten you in all the Quidditch games. You're a loser when compared to him!"

The Slytherin's expression darkened, became more dangerous.

"Shut up, Joey!" one of the Hufflepuffs attempted, but the burly boy was on a roll.

"You're just a Head Boy, but Harry's a hero. He's better than you are!"

Silence enveloped the whole living room.

At that point, Hermione had to restrain herself from hitting that arrogant bastard for saying those words. She felt nothing but anger and the desire to claw his eyes out and stuff it inside his fat mouth. What an annoying brat! But the wrath in her chest constricted to fear when she saw Malfoy. That expression... that expression was the double of what she saw on his face the night they were attacked. "Come on," she said, breaking the uncomfortable silence around them. Hermione began to push the students to the direction of the stairs. "Time to go back to your rooms." She made her way to Joey and pushed him as well, though this one barely moved at all. "Go!" she frantically said.

"But... but we've only woken up!" Marvin whined, ignorant of the warning bells resounding in Hermione's ears.

"We haven't eaten yet," Raymond added, starting to move towards the kitchen.

"Miss Granger, I have to use the--"

Hermione glanced at Malfoy again, and knew it was best to shut these kids up. "Tell you what. The moment Harry comes in, we'll bring your food to your rooms. Breakfast in bed, how does that sound?" She knew she was spouting anything that came to mind, but she had to get these kids out of here before any bloodshed occurred!

"But--"

"Well--"

"Miss Granger--"

"JUST GO!" she barked, hands poised over hips and brows drawn together. She could feel her temples throbbing angrily as she stared at the lot.

Reluctantly, the students followed her orders. Even Joey Garson joined the others in making their way out of the living room, much to her relief. They dragged their feet to the stairs and climbed to their respected rooms, but not without a few grunts of protest.

Hermione turned to Malfoy, and saw for herself the rigid way his jaw was set into as his eyes were firmly latched on the floor. She went to him, and tentatively placed a hand over his arm. "Hey--"

He shrugged that off brusquely and marched straight to the kitchen.

She followed him, already thinking of words to soothe. She wasn't ecstatic at having to be the one to face an angry dragon, so to speak, but she couldn't just leave him like this! "Malfoy--"

He shoved his hands to the pockets of his robe, and Hermione noticed the two faint spots of pink that flushed his face as he paced back and forth. "I'm going to kill that kid!" he exclaimed loudly, and she knew that if given the chance he truly would. "I'm going to wring his thick, fat neck--"

"Hey!" she said again. "Stop that."

Malfoy whirled on her. "Did you hear? Did you hear what that dumb prat said? Why, I ought to--"

"He's just scared, Malfoy," she reasoned, in what she hoped was a comforting tone. "They all are. Can't you see it?"

"I don't care. That gives him no right to... to..." He seemed to have calmed down for a bit, because he was quiet all of a sudden. Then, in a very violent display he picked up a chair and threw it on the nearest wall. Upon impact it exploded into a hundred little pieces, flew to several directions, a clear testament to his rage.

"Draco!" Hermione exclaimed, pulling his arm back before he stepped on the wreckage he himself created. "The house is already falling apart even without your help, alright? You shouldn't allow yourself to take him seriously; he's just a kid for Merlin's sake!"

He was quiet once more, and she didn't remove her hold on him. This time, though, he didn't shrug it off. "Look," she started, in a mild voice. "He just said those things because... well, he's a bloody idiot. Maybe he said those because he's more comfortable with Harry around... I don't know. But don't believe him, okay?" Hermione shook her head. "Ravenclaws are supposed to be intelligent, but this one clearly isn't. His premises don't even add up!" She rubbed his back, her hand moving from the base of his nape to the area just above his waist in slow, calming strokes. "Don't believe him," she repeated.

Malfoy breathed fast, apparently still struggling to rein in his anger. Then, "Fine. I won't believe him." He looked at her, all innocent and child-like. "But can I kick him in his sleep?"

"Malfoy!"

*

Draco grimaced at the mess he made in the kitchen, the remnants of the exhibition of temper he just had. The anger was still there, just waiting to boil over again, but he was doing his best to keep it in check. After all, as Granger had said the house was already falling apart even without his destructive prowess, and... well, there was no other chair to break, anyway.

He crouched over one of the legs of the chair, picked it up, then set it down again. Draco pulled out his wand, whispered "Reparo," and watched as the chair was rebuilt. He was about to walk out of the kitchen when he heard them. Whispers. Murmurs.

"Did you hear what Joey said?"

"Did I?" his companion sniggered, before he continued. "I'd be surprised if the people on other safe houses didn't. With that kid's mouth--"

"Yeah. He's a loudmouth, that first year. Remember what Professor Sprout told us--"

"--that if there's anyone who could rival a Mandrake's cry, it'd be Joey? Pretty much."

"But what he said about that Head Boy--"

"About him being lower than Harry or something like that? What about it?"

"Well..." A pause. "Don't you think that's too... harsh? Because--"

"It's the truth, isn't it? Gryffindor's been defeating them ever since Harry came in. At least, that's what my brother told me. He's in the same year as they are." Another pause, longer this time. "And besides, he's a Slytherin. All students from that house are foul things. Just look at their Head of House."

Draco pressed himself closer to the wall, and listened further.

"But Dumbledore said that Professor Snape's a--"

"Whatever he is, he's still foul, okay? Remember when he made me drink my potion? I couldn't talk for a week."

"But that was your fault. He told us to put in three newt's eyes but you placed the entire jarful! And that--"

"Well I didn't like the way they were looking at me... oh, who cares about Snape, anyway? Let's just compile a list of what Professor Flitwick taught us since first year. Whoever has the longer list gets half the loser's food."

"Again? But we already did that yesterday..."

Footsteps sounded in the quiet house as their voices faded away.

Draco took a few moments to digest what he heard... all the important details, anyway. He considered following the two to ask them what they know about Snape, or what Dumbledore said about Snape, but...

He shrugged, turned, and had his heart stopped at the sight that assaulted him.

"Granger, you idiot," he muttered, ignoring the urge to clutch at his chest. It was an act of weakness, he knew. Malfoys weren't weak things. "Trying to sneak up on me?"

She arched her brow, folded her arms, and tapped her foot against the floor. "Me, a sneak? I should ask you what you're doing just about now."

"I wasn't doing anything."

"Oh, really? Then what do you call standing there and listening to a conversation between Matthew and Ned?"

Draco frowned. "You know those two?"

"Of course I know them," she said arrogantly. "I took time to ask their names. You should, too, if you want to be respected around here."

"I don't need their respect," he declared, just as arrogant. "I want their fear. Respect for you makes you their leader. Fear of you makes you their master. There's a difference."

Granger rolled her eyes, and made a huge fuss out of yawning. "Spoken like a sly Slytherin avoiding the issue. You. Were. Listening. To. A. Private. Conversation." Each word was punctuated with a poke on his chest. "Eavesdropper."

"How would you know?" he asked, swatting her hand away when she attempted to poke him again. "How would you know if you weren't listening as well?"

She was taken aback, he could tell. "Well, I--"

"Yes?" Draco advanced on her, and he did this until he had her cornered. "Come now, Granger," he teased, knowing she'd have to move heaven and earth to get out of this one. "How. Would. You. Know?" he asked, punctuating each word with a poke on her shoulder.

"I..." She blinked, and it delighted him to see the two spots of color that suffused her cheeks. He could feel his fingers burning to touch them and see if they were as warm as they looked. "Um, well, I--"

He grinned, and the two spots on her face deepened in color. "You even knew their names from their voices."

"Ooohhh..." She curled her hands to fists, and then pushed him away. "Fine," she spat. "I listened too, okay? But I only heard the part with Professor Flitwick in it."

Draco smirked. "Sure you have."

Granger inched her chin higher. "Anyway--"

"--anyway," he cut in. "How did you get here? I only see one way leading to this kitchen, and that's where I'm standing at right now."

She pointed at the space near the cupboards. "There's an old laundry chute over there," Granger said. "From what I've read, wizards don't have that in their homes, which lead me to think that this house was owned by a Muggle or a wizard with Muggle heritage."

"This is a Muggle house?"

She nodded.

"Interesting." Draco looked around him, feeling as though he was seeing the house for the very first time. "That explains the reason why it's already in a state of decomposition." He returned his gaze at her. "How did you know there was a laundry chute?"

"Marvin pointed it to me after I followed them upstairs. The laundry chute was beside his and Joey's beds. Oh, that reminds me, Joey told me he's sorry for all he said about you."

"Really?" Draco replied blithely. "Well, that doesn't make me feel like I don't want to hit him anymore, or wring his neck for that matter."

Granger bristled. "At least he said he was sorry. Do you know how hard it is to make him apologize? I practically had to--" She looked at him, and then at the other end of the room.

"You practically had to what?"

"Well..." She shrugged. "I told him that I'd be docking off five hundred points from his house, and that I'd recommend his expulsion to Dumbledore on the grounds of grave misconduct. Lucky for me, he bought it, and so did every one else inside that room. I guess starting today no one's going to dare misbehave around me." She beamed. "Gullible little kids."

Draco pretended to look shocked. "Lies! The Head Girl tells lies! My, my, such audacity, Miss Golden Gryffindor Granger--"

She hit him on the arm. "Quit it!"

He rubbed at the spot she punched, pretending that it hurt. "You shouldn't hit me too much... or even at all. No one's ever tried to hit me before. I could sue you for this."

Granger smiled brilliantly. "Let's just see you try." She hit him again.

"Sadist."

"Prat."

"You know, those two boys - Nathan and Ed? - were right when they said that you were corrupted and power drunk. I was about to correct them, but how could I when I could see for myself that they were correct?"

"What?" The smile on her face quickly turned into a frown. "I never heard them say anything like that! They only mentioned things about Professors Sprout, Snape and--"

"And here I thought," he started, "that you only heard the part with Professor Flitwick in it."

She looked completely unabashed even if she knew she was caught. "Git."

"Liar."

She was about to retort to that when she stopped, her demeanor changing abruptly before his very eyes. Now she appeared to be subdued, timid, even, compared to the proud woman that she was earlier. Draco turned around, and saw the reason for all of these. "Oh, joy," he muttered to himself.

Famous Harry Potter was back.