Touchstone || Dramione

Chapter III: Master

Nott's fiery eyes are boring into hers. "What the fuck have you done?"

Hermione points her wand at Nott's throat. "Get out of my face."

His hand is a steel trap on her shoulder and he growls lowly. "I was wrong. You haven't learned anything. Thanks for blowing my cover, Granger! Fucking glorious, you Gryffindor twit!"

"And you can tell me without hesitation that seeing your friend after all this time—alive no less—didn't make you feel something?" she hisses.

He pauses momentarily and Hermione catches the hidden torment just beneath his expression. Nott's face is a tectonic catastrophe buried under strained placidity. Never before has she sensed so much turbulence in him. It would be frightening if she weren't so agitated.

"He's not my friend." Nott's lips curl over his teeth as if the words pain him.

She scoffs. "Liar. Just because I wasn't in Slytherin doesn't mean I didn't notice how you and Malfoy got on better than anyone else he surrounded himself with."

"And you were willing to risk everything just for the sake of saving him?" He points at Malfoy who watches their argument with dim interest. "After everything he did? How is he worth this war?"

"I'd do the same for you, or anyone else!" Hermione glares back, the familiar revulsion shuddering in her stomach, making her ill. "I can't just stand"—

"Right!" he hisses. "Cost the lives of countless other Phoenix members just to save one for the sake of your conscious. You Gryffindors are mental, you know that? It's a wonder you're still in this war! If it weren't for us, you'd be useless martyrs by now!"

The anger in her eats away at what little restraint she has left and the words drip from her lips like acid. "Like Astoria?"

She's pushed it too far. She's always pushing things too far, lately.

His face falls and an awful darkness smolders in his eyes. "What?"

"I..." she gulps. "I shouldn't"—

"Don't stop there, Granger." He grounds out maliciously. "You've recently made an art out of inserting your bloody foot in your mouth."

Her wand hand is trembling. She hasn't noticed it until now. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said—I couldn't just... leave him there. I can't keep leaving them behind."

He sighs angrily. "Wha"—

"I just couldn't!" she suddenly snaps. "I saw him and I saw... everything before this. I just..."

She saw a different time, a different place. A past with a few sticks, maybe some stones, and a lot of ugly words. But not this. Not war. Tears creep behind her eyes, but she is able to ignore them. Crying in front of Nott isn't all that appealing, especially right now. As if it would ever be appealing.

"Fucking Gryffindors..." Nott grumbles under his breath.

Abruptly, a fierce feminine voice cuts through the air. "What's going on here?"

They both jerk around to see Minerva McGonagall standing in the large entryway of the mansion they've entered not five minutes prior. Unregistered portkeys have been rather useful since this war began. With one disgruntled glare between the two of them, her eyes fall on Malfoy and she stiffens. Shock livens her eyes and Hermione can't mistake the furtive quiver of her lips. The woman's stare turns glassy, but with a curt shake of her head, it's a severe green again.

"Miss Granger was not supposed to report back here."

"Obviously." Nott deadpans.

McGonagall turns on her heel. "Follow me."