The Night is Young | Hermione Granger

7. Granger's Little Crush

Max and Isola are waiting in the common room as usual for Daphne and I. Isola's looking rather focused as she writes in her notebook, breaking from it only to look at the piece of parchment Max is holding up for her in front.

I'm about to ask what she's been writing about all this time, because it's starting to bug me, but I cut myself off upon noticing both of Maxim's hands wrapped in gauze.

"What happened." I demand, grabbing the hand of his that isn't holding Isola's paper. Daphne inspects it as well.

"Nothing." He tells us, taking his hand back.

"His father sent him a hexed letter." Isola says in a casual tone, Max glares at her but she's focused on her writing and doesn't notice.

"What?" Daphne scoffed, dropping next to him on the couch and taking his hand back.

He looks rather annoyed, caught between holding Isola's work and Daphne undressing his injury.

"My father didn't like my reaction to his howlers." He directs his glare to Daphne, pulling away from her, but the damage was already done, and I can see the glistening blisters bubbling from his skin.

Daphne gasps and I'm stuck in shock, the only one still standing. Max stuffs his hand in his robes so we can't see anymore, and turns to Isola, who's packing away her stuff like nothing has happened.

"Are you going home for Christmas?" She asks, looking between Daphne and I.

She reaches for Max's hand and he lets her take it out of his robes and rewrap it.

"Yea." Daphne glances at the injury once more. "You?"

"We're going to Iceland." Isola says. "They've found viking ships there."

"I'm staying." Max adds.

"I'm not going home either." I say, and Max looks like he doesn't quite believe me.

I was going to go home, but I don't like my family, and if one of my friends are staying I'm not going to willingly deal with random pureblood boys my mother brings home as a potential husband for myself. That, and just incase Travers decides to snitch on me, I don't want my parents knowing I'm a blood traitor. Max may be proud of me, but my mother definitely won't be.

"Have you asked?" The boy directs at me and I nod.

"Jean-Claude doesn't work for Ilvermorny anymore." I say. "He moved to the west coast for a promotion."

"Why Ilvermorny?" Daphne asks, furrowing her brows at the mention of the school, like there are better choices out there.

"I'm 18, we can get out of the country." Max explains. "The further the better."

"I still say Durmstrung." Isola adds and Max shakes his head, like he's already decided.

"What about Beauxbatons?" I ask.

"Do you speak french, Moreau?" He emphasizes my name, and I glare at him.

My family may be from Côte d'Ivoire, but generations of assimilation in Britain have rendered me (and my abundantly french names) unable to speak the language.

"No." I grit out, not liking to admit it.

He shrugs, leaning his head back arrogantly like his point has been made.

"I'm hungry." Isola cuts in. "I'm going for breakfast."

She looks at Daphne first, who stands up, then Max, who shakes his head.

"I forgot to do something." I lie and point back towards our dorm when Daphne looks at me.

"I'll bring you guys something back." She says and her and Isola head out.