Chapter 168 - Tears

The first Monday after the Christmas holidays ended.

Slytherin was only so big a patch of ground, yet Praeris hadn't run into Draco once, like Orion and Scorpius, drifting through the same sky and never once crossing paths.

On the common room noticeboard, beneath the password, someone had pinned a notice for Apparition lessons. Below it, Slytherin students crowded together in a jostling heap, quills raised, signing their names.

Pansy Parkinson signed beneath Daphne Greengrass's and immediately ran over to Praeris. "Prae, aren't you signing up?"

"Draco hasn't signed yet." Praeris said it like it meant something.

Pansy couldn't believe those words had come out of Praeris's mouth. "You're not signing just because he hasn't?"

"No, Pansy." Praeris laughed quietly. "If I sign, he won't dare to — and I'm not the sort of person who holds up someone else's education. Don't you think?"

Praeris had already worked it out. Draco was avoiding her.

Pansy felt a chill crawl down her spine. She hunched her shoulders and stammered, "I... I'm heading to the Great Hall for breakfast! Yes! Breakfast!"

It wasn't until Professor Snape was nearly ready to take the notice down that Praeris finally strolled over and signed her name directly after Draco's.

Apparition is a method of magical travel, a wizard vanishes from one place and reappears in another. When referring specifically to the vanishing portion, it can also be called Disapparition. When you bring someone else along, it becomes Side-Along Apparition.

The time Dumbledore took Praeris to Gringotts was Side-Along Apparition, because Praeris didn't have a license.

Honestly. Dumbledore, conducting an illegal activity while still obeying the law within it. It was practically like a Muggle robbing a bank but refusing to let his accomplice drive the getaway car, purely because the accomplice didn't have a license and that would violate the Road Traffic Act 1988.

In practice, the terminology isn't always so precise. People frequently mix up Apparition and Disapparition, so long as the meaning gets through, no one much cares.

The main risk of Apparition, if performed incorrectly, is splinching. A severed body part, treated promptly, can still be reattached.

That said, reattachment is an entirely different matter from Praeris's limb-regeneration potion. Reattaching a lost arm and regrowing a new arm of identical length and size are two completely different things.

As far as anyone in Slytherin knew, Praeris was the only one who had experienced Side-Along Apparition. She could also Apparate on her own, she simply didn't have a license.

Out of some instinctive, inexplicable trust, her housemates skipped straight past the questions of whether Praeris could Apparate or had actually experienced Side-Along Apparition, and went directly to asking what it felt like and whether there were any tricks to it.

"You've used Floo Powder before, right?" Praeris said to Meryl, one of the quieter, less-noticed students in their year. "Apparition is nearly a superposition of Floo Powder and a Portkey. The sensation is closer to a Portkey, but the technique is more like Floo Powder."

"Do you have to shout your destination when you Apparate?" Meryl asked.

"No." Praeris shook her head. "But you have to hold the destination in your mind with complete focus. Floo Powder and fireplaces are really just a simplified version of the process — shouting a place name acts as a substitute for that mental concentration."

Meryl's eyes went wide. "That's incredible! Praeris, you really do know everything!"

Praeris felt compelled to correct this. "Meryl, I really don't know everything..."

"And so modest!" Meryl breathed.

Praeris decided to stop there. At this rate, Meryl would have her crowned as Merlin reborn before lunch.

In Charms, Transfiguration, and every other class they shared, Draco would sooner sit near the Gryffindor side of the room than be anywhere close to Praeris.

After one of those classes, they overheard Zabini say to Theodore, "You know how it is, mate. A basilisk — can't be approached, can't be looked at directly."

Pansy Parkinson immediately turned to Praeris. "His mouth is just like that, you know how he is!"

"You mean Zabini?" Praeris said calmly. "He's talking about a basilisk. Not about me."

Pansy exhaled. But she didn't for a moment think Praeris would let it go that easily.

Sure enough, Zabini was not at the dinner table that evening.

"Where's Zabini?" Pansy asked Theodore, her voice careful.

"He got what was coming to him." Theodore looked up. There was a meaningful pause. "Can't talk. Gone to the hospital wing."

Pansy's head whipped toward Praeris. Praeris was unhurriedly ladling herself a spoonful of seafood soup. "What's wrong, Panpan? Would you like some soup?"

Pansy swallowed. "No, Prae. I'm full."

Scared full.

After dinner, Pansy tracked down Goyle and demanded to know where Draco was.

"What do you need to know that for?" Wariness was written plainly across Goyle's face.

"Ugh!" Pansy kicked him. "If Draco doesn't pull himself together, Praeris is going to silence him for good!"

Goyle scratched his head. "I doubt it... Praeris isn't like that. At most she scares us a bit."

Last time Crabbe had gotten on Praeris's bad side, she hadn't transfigured him into a horned toad and dissected him, had she?

Goyle had completely failed to notice that his threshold for danger had been recalibrated downward by Praeris over a long period of time.

"Zabini badmouthed Prae today," Pansy said, fists clenched. "And now he can't speak!"

For a wizard, being struck mute was no different from losing their wand.

Goyle looked unconvinced. "That's mercy, honestly. Last time, Crabbe's toes got a lesson too."

"Think about it!" Pansy said urgently. "Everyone is saying Draco dumped Prae. And now Draco is acting like she's something to be avoided at all costs, this is affecting her reputation!"

Pansy shuddered. "I shouldn't have to spell it out. Tell Draco to get a clue. If he owes her an apology, he needs to make it."

Goyle was so alarmed his double chin compressed into something approaching a triple. Still, he said earnestly, "B-but Praeris's reputation... hasn't it always been the scariest girl in Slytherin?"

Pansy covered her face. "Then go. Now."

Goyle put his walnut-sized brain to work.

Draco still had to complete the Dark Lord's task. He couldn't afford to die yet. Yes, urging him to apologize to Praeris was absolutely the right call.

The moment Draco stepped out of the Room of Requirement, Goyle was there, faithfully reporting Praeris's recent conduct.

"No." Draco cut him off, impatient. "Praeris wouldn't hurt me. And she's not angry."

"But Pansy said —"

Draco was already walking. He didn't look back. "Pansy listens to too many rumors."

He left Goyle and made his way quickly to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom on the second floor. He cupped his hands under the tap, scooped up a handful of water, and pressed it hard against his face.

He raised his pale, gaunt face from his hands. His eyes held a hollow, drifting bewilderment, like an animal that had wandered into a fog and no longer knew which way was out.

"Handsome boy." Myrtle floated over from behind him. "I have a boyfriend, you know, I'm a ghost with a committed relationship! You keep coming here, and if the Baron saw, I'd have a very hard time explaining myself... but you are very handsome, and I suppose I'm willing to take the risk."

Draco didn't acknowledge her. He stared at the water dripping from his fingers and said, mostly to himself, "I made her sad. But I can't drag her into this. I've already drowned. How could I let her see what I've become, how could I let her sink into this water alongside me?"

"Oh," Myrtle cradled her cheeks. "So you're dead too? I honestly couldn't tell! This really does make things complicated... The Baron is wonderful, but he isn't a dead ghost either, when it comes right down to it!"

Myrtle turned to the row of taps and began counting. Odd numbers for the Baron. Even numbers for the dead-ghost handsome boy.

"What a tragedy!" she wailed, fresh tears rolling down her translucent face. "Fate always arranges for us to miss each other. It demands loyalty from me... Go on and cry, boy! I will weep here beside you, but my heart belongs only to the Baron!"

Myrtle cried.

Draco cried too.

He scooped another handful of water and pressed it against his face, so that no one would ever know.

Myrtle cried for missing out on a dead-ghost handsome boy.

Draco cried for the grinding, thankless work of repairing the Vanishing Cabinet. For his cowardice, the struggle of not being able to make himself kill someone. For having to push away the person he loved, and walking this wretched road entirely alone.

"He is an utter and complete idiot."

Hermione brought up Ron, and everything she said was loaded with contempt.

She had had enough. Ever since the Felix Felicis incident, Ron had been making snide comments at every turn. Then he started dating Lavender Brown, and Lavender made the dormitory unbearable, cold looks, sharp remarks, attitude in every direction.

"Viktor says Ron and I might have some misunderstandings between us." Hermione sighed. "Cheating is an extremely serious matter for a Quidditch player..."

She had told Viktor Krum about the incident after Felix Felicis. He had strongly disapproved of Hermione helping Ron get onto the team in the first place, but he fully supported her position on the Felix Felicis itself.

Viktor's English had gotten considerably better by then, likely from the small English-study sessions he'd been doing with Jacob.

"Hermione,

If Ronald's own abilities are not enough to make him a Keeper, then helping him the way you did is not appropriate, not for your Quidditch team, and not for Ronald himself.

I trust you know I am not blaming you. I understand your friendship. But I think your understanding of what Quidditch means may not be quite complete.

There are many other ways you could have helped Ronald find the courage to go after that position. The help you gave him, it may not have been fair to Ronald himself.

Victory and defeat are both thresholds a Quidditch player has to clear on their own.

Losing in Quidditch is ordinary. It happens constantly. Learning to accept defeat is a lesson every player must learn.

I think Ronald took that confidence — the kind that came through outside help — and decided he had earned it. So when you spoke against it, it felt to him as though you were saying he has no ability without Felix Felicis. That you look down on him.

But I know that is not what you meant. After all, you once broke your own principles for him, and you never told him. I will confess, I am jealous of that.

Go and talk to Ronald. Tell him you believe in him, but you want to see him win on his own terms. You are not saying what he did was wrong. You are saying you saw something unfair happen. Is that not right?

Missing you,

Viktor"

Encouraged by Viktor's letter, Hermione went looking for Ron the moment the Christmas holidays ended, ready to explain herself.

But Ron and Lavender Brown were inseparable, practically glued together, and there was no opening anywhere.

It wasn't until very late one night that Hermione finally got her chance.

Of course, she left out the part about what she'd done during the Quidditch tryouts.

Ron's expression eased a little. He muttered, "Alright, I get it, you didn't mean anything by it. Nice to see you can be reasonable once in a while."

"I am always reasonable!" Hermione said sharply. "If you and Lavender weren't stuck together like two magnets, I could have said this weeks ago!"

The corner of Ron's mouth twitched up. "You have to admit, I am pretty magnetic."

"Magnetic?" Hermione stared at him. "I'd call it clingy. Viktor and I are nothing like that."

Ron looked as though he'd been hit with a Stunner. He stared at her. "What did you just say?"

"Clingy?" Hermione said, confused.

"You and Krum are together?" Ron shoved back his chair so hard it toppled over as he stood.

Hermione nodded, unbothered. "That happened over the summer."

"You didn't tell us!" Ron's face was bright red. "You never said a single word!"

Hermione genuinely did not understand his reaction. What did her relationship have to do with Ron?

"You never asked!" she said. "When you and Lavender got together, did you make an announcement to any of us?"

"But I never hid it!" Ron shot back.

"Neither did I!" Hermione's voice rose. "I write back to Viktor all the time when I'm doing homework, right in front of you!"

Her bookmark was a Bulgarian rose. Her envelopes were printed with the Vratsa Mountains. Her beaded bag had a kukri hanging from it.

They had made up for approximately ten seconds before they were inexplicably fighting again. Even Harry sided against her, saying she had never once mentioned being in a relationship.

"Even I didn't know," Harry said.

Hermione looked at him. "When you had feelings for Cho Chang, did you tell us? You kept it entirely to yourself. I was writing letters right under your noses for months. How did none of you notice?"

Later, Hermione sighed into the two-way mirror. "Praeris, I just don't understand it. They act like Viktor and I being together is some kind of mistake."

"Do you think so too?" Praeris asked.

Hermione shook her head. "No. Viktor is wonderful."

What Viktor Krum gave Hermione began with something simple: he saw her.

Hermione had gone through a period of genuinely believing she was the ugly duckling, not pretty enough, too eager, always showing off. She had wanted, more than she ever let on, to be recognized for who she was.

Viktor was older. He had been a star on the pitch since his school days, already seasoned in a way most students would never be. He was the first person to find Hermione's talent and stubbornness genuinely worth noticing. And he accepted the parts of her that were still young and unsteady.

In Viktor's world, a player who didn't want to stand out was no player at all. Hermione's intensity, her drive, her refusal to be anything less, those weren't flaws to be managed. They were things worth admiring.

➤ Next: I Look Down on You