•Edited•
"What's coming will come and we'll meet it when it does."
- Rubeus Hagrid.
🐙
Her shadow danced along the walls as she made her way down the stone staircase.
The torches were burning brightly in their brackets even at this time of the day, but Hermione could see the sense in that. It would hardly be cheering to have a student break their neck while making their way down on this dark, wintry day.
Hermione often wondered if it was simply the weather or if the Dementors were causing the mists. Nevertheless, there was a definite drop in the usually happy atmosphere of Hogwarts.
It was lunchtime and most students were in the Great Hall, although a few were hurrying about, probably worried about unfinished homework.
How odd it felt to think about worrying about something as ordinary as that. Lately, all she thought about was the inevitable war that was encroaching. Lord Voldemort had that power of dampening your spirits it would seem, she thought in desperate amusement.
God, was she really cracking jokes about this now?
Her shoes made dull thuds on the stone and Hermione prepared herself to jump over the trick step that Neville always forgot to skip.
She was readying herself when a shove from behind made her gasp and fall right into the trick step. Breathless from the push, Hermione struggled as she sank upto her waist, very decidedly stuck.
"Is a wee student in a bit of a fix?" Said a cackling voice.
"Haha that was so funny Peeves." Said Hermione sarcastically. "Now get me out of here. I'm a Prefect."
Peeves floated slowly towards her through the air, pretending to think hard. "Peevsie could do that yes ... but why would he?" Blowing a raspberry, he swooped away, laughing like the pestilential poltergeist that he was.
Ugh.
Now what was she to do?
"Please somebody turn up and help me." She muttered. Hermione's eyes were already beginning to water from the pain.
"Mate, I really think that the Tornadoes will qualify to the finals."
"Really? You're an idiot to support them." Said a cold, arrogant voice.
She knew those tones. Malfoy and Zabini.
Hermione snorted. Like Slytherins were going to help her.
She sank a few more centimetres down and pain began creeping up her spine. It wouldn't hurt to ask them, she supposed, in desperation.
She really wasn't in a position to show her pride.
Hermione watched as Draco Malfoy and Blaise
Zabini came round the corner to the bottom of the staircase.
Malfoy's cool, silvery eyes flew up immediately to catch her gaze as if he'd sensed her presence.
Something about the way he observed her took her breath away. Malfoy had changed this year.
"What're you looking at - oh." Zabini stopped when he spotted her.
Unable to bear Malfoy's heavy gaze anymore, Hermione spoke loudly to hide the tremble. "Hi there, um, do you think you could help me out?"
Silence.
