"Life used to be a lot more peaceful when I was dead"
Unnoticed. Ignored. Forgotten.
So he left. Never to be seen again. Vanished from the face of the earth.
Until Today. Four years later, the black-haired Weasley makes a comeback that takes the...
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"Hermione, he's-" Harry began, attempting to halt her progress toward the back of the library where the older Slytherin boy was seated, a quill in hand as he diligently scribbled on his parchment.
"Stop it, Harry! He's not like that!" Hermione retorted stubbornly, her voice carrying a hint of frustration. "You can't just assume things about people—"
"I'm not assuming anything! He's buddy-buddy with the literal Heir of Slytherin, Hermione!" Harry interjected, his tone tinged with concern.
Hermione huffed, crossing her arms defensively over her chest. "Didn't you just tell me he helped you? That he believed you about the voices?"
"Well, yes, but..." Harry faltered, scrambling for a valid defense.
"Harry, he offered to help you, and now you're going around his back and calling him evil just because he's in Slytherin?" Hermione's tone was stern, her glare disapproving.
"I'm not saying he's evil! I just—" Harry stuttered, searching for the right words to express his unease.
Hermione shook her head, her expression unwavering. "You need to stop jumping to conclusions, Harry. Not all Slytherins are the same, just like not all Gryffindors are heroes. Give him a chance before you judge him solely based on his house."
- - - - -
Hermione's fingers clenched around the scroll in her hands, her frustration palpable in the tense set of her shoulders. She couldn't believe she was resorting to seeking help. She never needed help in academics before.
Harry stood nervously by her side, his own book in hand as he adjusted his glasses. He had been hesitant to come to a Slytherin for help, a godforsaken Slytherin from all people- not to mention, Ron's long lost brother...but Hermione was insistent that Marcus would be more than willing to help.
"Sorry, I didn't quite catch that," Marcus said with a smug smile, his gaze meeting Hermione's with an innocent facade. His chin rested on his intertwined fingers, the essay before him forgotten in favor of the interaction unfolding.
Harry's fingers twitched in caution, sensing Hermione's rising ire and bruised pride. Why was he provoking her?
Hermione took a deep breath, trying to push aside her irritation. "I need help with my potions brewing...please," she managed to say through gritted teeth.
Marcus gestured nonchalantly to the empty seats across from him. Hermione hesitated for a moment before reluctantly taking a seat, placing the scroll between them on the table. Harry followed a beat after, the chair scraping as he pulled it out and sat, setting his book down.
A stilted silence settled between them as they both avoided each other's gaze, tension crackling in the air like static electricity. Harry cleared his throat. Marcus's eyes darted to him.
