Pity The Living (Dramione)

Second Year: Flashback #4

Late November-Early December 1992

Hermione walked briskly down the corridor, her thoughts racing. The discovery of Mrs. Norris and the ominous message on the wall had set the entire school on edge. "The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir, beware." The words were chilling, and everyone seemed to have their theory about who could be responsible. But none more outlandish than the idea that Draco Malfoy was Slytherin's Heir.

"Honestly, it doesn't make sense," Hermione muttered, her brows furrowed as she discussed the matter with Harry and Ron in the Gryffindor common room. "Just because he's in Slytherin and has always been cruel doesn't mean he's the Heir of Slytherin."

Harry, who had been considering Malfoy's sneer when he first saw the message, looked skeptical. "He said the Chamber was opened before, Hermione. He's too smug about all of this."

"Yes, but that could just be Draco being Draco," Hermione insisted, her tone firm. "He thrives on making people feel uneasy, and right now, the idea that he could be behind this gives him power. It doesn't mean he is."

Ron rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair. "I dunno, Hermione. He's always hated Muggle-borns, hasn't he? You've seen the way he looks and speaks at you."

Hermione's cheeks flushed slightly, but she didn't back down. "That's precisely why I think he's not the Heir. If Malfoy was behind this, wouldn't he have acted more by now? He's had plenty of opportunities to do more than sneer and make empty threats."

She glanced around the room, lowering her voice. "What if the real Heir is someone we're not suspecting? We need to gather more information before jumping to conclusions."

Harry sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. "So, what do you suggest?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed in thought. "I think we need to find out more about the Chamber of Secrets. There must be something in the library that can help us understand what we're dealing with."

As she spoke, she couldn't shake the feeling that something else was at play here—something deeper and more dangerous than Malfoy's usual arrogance. And the way he had looked at her in recent days... There was something different in his eyes. Was it fear? Or perhaps... guilt?

The Great Hall buzzed with anticipation as students gathered for the first meeting of the Duelling Club. Hermione stood near Harry and Ron, her eyes scanning the room nervously. She couldn't shake the feeling that something significant was about to happen.

Professor Lockhart, with his usual flair, began the session by explaining the basics of dueling, much to Professor Snape's barely concealed disdain. The two professors' tension was palpable, and Hermione found herself distracted, her mind wandering to her thoughts about Malfoy and the Chamber.

"Malfoy's been staring at you again," Ron whispered, nudging her slightly.

Hermione blinked, snapping out of her reverie. "What?"

Ron nodded towards the Slytherin side of the room. Sure enough, Draco Malfoy's eyes were on her, but there was no malice in them—only something she couldn't quite place. Her heart skipped a beat, but she quickly looked away, focusing on the task at hand.

"Potter and Malfoy!" Lockhart announced cheerfully, breaking the tension. "Let's show them how it's done!"

The room was hushed as Harry and Draco took their places on the dueling platform. Hermione held her breath, knowing how much this duel meant to both boys. They raised their wands at the ready, their eyes locked in mutual disdain.

"Expelliarmus!" Harry and Draco shouted simultaneously, their spells clashing in mid-air. The impact sent them both stumbling, but neither backed down. A few more spells were exchanged, each one growing more intense, until finally, Draco's lips curled into a wicked smile.

"Serpensortia!"

A large snake burst from Draco's wand, hissing menacingly as it slithered towards Harry. The room erupted into gasps, but Harry's focus remained on the snake. Hermione felt a cold chill run down her spine as the serpent hissed again, and Harry responded in kind—in Parseltongue.

The hissing was strange, alien, yet somehow familiar to Hermione. She felt a strange connection, as though she understood the snake's words—understood Harry's response. It was a realization that came with a sudden, terrifying clarity.

"Stop!" Hermione cried out, her voice breaking the spell-like trance that had fallen over the room. The snake halted, turning its head towards her as if acknowledging her presence. The entire hall seemed to freeze, all eyes now on Hermione.

Snape, who had been about to intervene, paused, his gaze sharp and calculating. "Interesting," he murmured under his breath.

Lockhart, oblivious to the tension, tried to step in with his usual bravado, but Snape quickly silenced him with a glare.

Hermione took a deep breath, forcing herself to remain calm. "Harry, get rid of it," she said, her voice steady. "Now."

Harry, though confused, obeyed, and with a flick of his wand, the snake vanished. The room exhaled as one, but the atmosphere remained tense.

Draco's eyes flicked between Harry and Hermione, his face unreadable. He seemed to be processing what had just happened, and for the first time, Hermione saw a hint of fear in his expression—not of her, but of what this meant.

As the students began to disperse, whispers of Parseltongue and connections to dark magic filled the air. Hermione caught Draco's eye one last time before he turned and walked away, his usual swagger gone.

Hermione stood there, lost in thought. The connection she had felt with the Parseltongue was undeniable. But what did it mean? And why had she, a Muggle-born witch, understood it? A chilling thought crossed her mind, one that she couldn't ignore. Could she have a deeper connection to this mystery than she realized?

The truth, she knew, was something she would have to uncover—and soon.