The Internal Devices

Chapter 23

Hermione side-along apparated back to Hogwarts with Pansy; she was still healing and Astoria insisted she not strain herself. The three of them landed and made for the entrance with linked arms. Pansy arranged for their things to be dropped off in their dorms later so they were empty-handed as they ambled past the Great Hall. Peeking inside, Hermione only saw a small spattering of students back from the holidays. The rest were either resting up for the start of term or arriving later that night.

Walking through the castle halls felt entirely different than when she arrived in September. All those months ago, Hermione had felt so broken and alone. She had fixed her eyes on the floor, unable to bear any reminders of battles fought and lives lost. Her wand never left the tight grip of her right hand, and her shoulders were so tense she thought a tendon might snap. This time, however, Hermione entered with friends and some hope returned to her damaged heart. Instead of heading upstairs to the Gryffindor common room, she followed her Slytherins down the steps to the dungeons. Ginny wouldn't arrive until later, so she had plenty of time to spend with the boys.

Astoria whispered the password–memento mori–and the portrait hole swung open. Immediately, Pansy spotted Blaise and muttered a quick, "Nice seeing you ladies, but I'll be going now," before making a beeline for the tall boy. Blaise was practically dragged into Pansy and Astoria's room, though he didn't look too bothered by it. Astoria chuckled softly and smiled at Hermione before crossing the room to catch up with Tracey Davis. Hermione turned towards the couches where she thought she had spied a tuft of platinum hair. She crept up behind the couch and leaned over into Draco's face.

"Hello, ferret." She said brightly. Draco let out a strangled yelp and toppled onto the floor. He closed his eyes in defeat and placed a bookmark in whatever novel he was reading, not bothering to pick himself back up.

"Very funny, Granger. Just ruin my moment." He cracked open an eye and huffed in annoyance when he saw her maniacal grin. "Oh, sod off. Theo's in the corner." She giggled and surveyed the common room. There, just as Draco had said, stood Theo. He was leaning comfortably against the wall with his arms crossed and eyes twinkling as he took her in. He extended a hand and curled his pointer finger; she obediently strode over to him.

"Hi," she said breathlessly, standing a few inches from him. Her forehead only met his chin, so he tilted her face up to meet his eyes.

"Hi," he echoed in a low murmur. He trailed a gloved finger down her cheek before tugging her upstairs. Draco and Theo's room was lovely. The two beds were pushed up against opposite walls to make the room as spacious as possible. A lush carpet spread between, comfortable enough to sleep on. Unlike Harry and Ron, this room did not bear the marks of unhygienic sloppiness. The Gryffindors were known for leaving out half-eaten sugar quills, muddy quidditch uniforms, and forgotten cups of tea. It had always disgusted Hermione enough that she never ventured into their living quarters. Draco and Theo's room, in contrast, was charming in its disorder. Instead of feeling grimy, it felt like the chaos of a mind at work. On Draco's side, stacks of books littered the area. They were not the sort of collection meant to impress, but a hoard of someone obsessed. At any given time, a dozen books would be opened to different pages, each with its own bookmark so he wouldn't lose his place. Draco had few other decorations but a small portrait of his mother on his bedside table. Even from a distance, the frame appeared worn, as if he had held it over and over.

Theo's side revealed stacks of sheet music, marked all over with ink notes. His violin rested in a silver stand near his bed, ready for action. Unlike Draco, Theo had filled his wall with frames. There were pictures of him and Draco laughing by the Black Lake, Hermione and Pansy asleep in the common room, and Blaise throwing Astoria over his shoulder. He didn't hang any pictures of his mother, but he did frame some of her favorite pieces of music. There, above one of Hermione scowling (Draco had just snatched the book out of her hands during breakfast), was the Bach partita he had played for her in the abandoned classroom; it was one of his mother's most played melodies. Hermione tentatively reached out a hand to brush the edge of the music.