Cursed | Draco Malfoy

Sixteen

It was New Years Eve today.

And every year, just as the Christmas ball, a party was thrown on the seventh floor. Most people would stay outside or on the roofs, since the professors take the curtesy of throwing fireworks in the air when the clock strikes midnight.

She knew Malfoy would be there, because of course, he shows up to every party or event that Hogwarts has to offer.

She didn't know if she wanted to see him — or wanted to have nothing to do with him. He was always confusing, always running. She didn't know wether to chase, or to wait.

Hermione always hated the boy, but something inside her clicked when she saw his scars. Of course, no doubt his wicked ways haven't changed — considering he yelled at her the day prior to today.

But, the witch was not one to back down easily.

She was going to attend this New Year's party along side of Harry and Ron. One thing she liked more about this one than Christmas, was that it wasn't formal. It was hosted in a random room that was huge with different accesses to other rooms with couches or beds even.

She could show up in trousers and a sweatshirt and no one would say anything, that's why she enjoyed this one a-lot more.

She strut along side Harry as they both entered the common rooms, Hermione, with a book in her left hand and Harry following behind her quickly.

She shut the door to her bedroom and Harry was breathing quickly, Hermiones eyebrows furrowed. "Why're you breathing so heavy?"

Harry panted, "I- I'm not-" he placed his hands on his knees, "I haven't exercised in a while."

Hermione made a weird expression, but then she let a smile appear. Harry— that's just how he was. Dorky, clueless, absolutely hilarious.

She couldn't help but laugh at him, which made Harry become grumpy. He crossed his arms, his knit crimson sweater falling over his arms. "Hey!" He grumped playfully.

She shook her head, at how ridiculous it was. She took a breath, "sorry, sorry."

"Okay, so what was it you were telling me about Umbridge?" Hermione asked, subconsciously grabbing her left wrist. Ever since the occasion of the mere torturing of the witch, she had not seen Umbridge practically anywhere. Of course, she only taught one of her classes — even then, she was silent. Like she was plotting or thinking half the class.

Harry cleared his throat, "okay, well, I'm not one-hundred percent sure — but I think she's working under Voldemort."

Hermiones autumn eyes widened; and she too had now crossed her arms over her body. She couldn't imagine if this was actually true, but in some parts of her brain — she could see why he would say that.

"Why do you say that?" She queried.

Harry's eyes darted across the room, "well think about it, Hermione. She won't let anyone speak about Voldemort or his return, she's violent and aggressive towards everybody — and she has favouritism on students like Malfoy and the Slytherins. There can really only be one solution I can think of that explains her — weird behaviour." He spoke.

"And, calling Cedric's death an accident. I mean, seriously. Not even Snape had the audacity to say something as pathetically dim-witted as that."

She furrowed her eyebrows, "Ron told you about that?" And the boy just simply nodded.

Hermione thought back to all her interactions with Dolores, and her mind swirled. There was already a-lot on her plate, but she could tell this could possibly be the most important thing of it all.