Carpathian

Saturday, 8:46 am

- NOT MY WORK ALL CREDITS TO @/niffizzle on AO3 - 

All night, she waited. Looked out into the distant shadows, listened for the sound of approaching footsteps, braced herself for what felt inevitable.

Markus taught her how to differentiate between the dragon roars.

Aurel regaled every humorous story he could think of.

Charlie and Julia remained side-by-side.

No one else joined them.

The orange glow of the roaring bonfire illuminated the cloudless night, filled with an abundance of laughs and one too many butterbeers: the precise type of evening Hermione had imagined enjoying when planning this weekend escape. It would have been even more enjoyable if Charlie hadn't kept staring off into the same shadows, seeming to hope for an appearance from the exact wizard Hermione preferred to remain absent.

Charlie's stares persisted when Malfoy didn't show up at breakfast either.

"I'm going to check on Draco," Charlie said once he'd swallowed his last bite of scrambled eggs. He selected a green apple from the centre of their table and put it in his pouch. "Hermione, meet me back at the cabins in around fifteen?"

Hermione agreed before Charlie exited the mess hall. With Markus and Aurel already off to begin their morning responsibilities, that left Hermione alone with Julia.

Her sandy blonde hair seemed more vibrant this morning, illuminated under the morning sun's reflection through the overhead windows. It was pulled back in a slick ponytail—something Hermione could never achieve with her own hair's bushy nature. She was merely grateful that her hair tie hadn't snapped when fashioning her hair out of her face while wedged between two strangers in front of the communal bathroom's mirror.

"You know he's avoiding you."

That certainly pulled Hermione out of her observational trance.

Given the option, Hermione would have preferred that she and Julia spent this time getting to know each other better, discussing her perspective as a female dragon keeper or exchanging stories about Charlie. But in the limited time they had interacted so far, Hermione could already tell that Julia wasn't the type to skirt around issues. And it wasn't as if Julia's claim came as any surprise. Hermione preferred to avoid Malfoy, too.

Though that did nothing to lessen the sting.

So much for civility. Apparently, Malfoy was already done attempting.

Hermione set down her four-pronged fork, food no longer as appetising. Youthful memories gnawed at her insides, snapping and biting at the unforgotten torments, giving rise to a disappointing conclusion.

"I suppose Malfoy could learn to befriend a so-called 'blood traitor,' but enduring more than a meal with a Muggle-born is too much."

"You think that's his reason?"

The earnest surprise in Julia's voice made her stomach twist tighter, yet it failed to shift Hermione's perspective. Julia didn't know Malfoy. Not the way Hermione did.

She stared down at her plate. "You wouldn't remember him from your year at Hogwarts, but I'm sure I don't need to explain who the Death Eaters were."

"And I'm sure I need not remind you that my former Headmaster was also killed by the Death Eaters—though not for the same reason," came Julia's immediate response. "Pureblood Supremacy was— is— not limited to Britain."

"I never fooled myself to believe otherwise."

Silence stretched between them, stiff and stagnant like the muscles lining Hermione's back. This wasn't how she imagined her first solo conversation with Charlie's girlfriend. Or the start to the first full day of her holiday. The sole consolation was that Julia didn't seem upset—only contemplative. Intent.