The Gloriana Set

The Mask Slips

The rain returned Sunday morning with a vengeance, pounding on Hermione's bedroom window as she packed a few items into her pink beaded bag and added two square packages marked with runes. Beneath a heavy black cloak she wore jeans and a red jumper, and her hair was tied up into as tight a bun as she could manage, although it would all fall apart by noon in such weather.

She'd had a restless night, plagued with dreams of the war again, the terror and confusion at the Department of Mysteries, the pain of Dolohov's curse. She'd woken up sweating, and when she finally fell asleep again, confused dreams of Theo followed, and then the one with Malfoy in danger. The last dream Hermione had dismissed as guilt; stinging hexes were painful, and she didn't think Malfoy would ask anyone to heal him. She'd literally found herself standing by the bedroom door, wearing slippers and her pink robe, clutching her wand and the Marauders' Map. You're being stupid, she told herself, turning around and getting back into bed. He's fine. He's resourceful. You need to stay away from him.

Now it was morning, and Hermione stopped by the Owlery first thing to send two stubborn gits their wands. Not that they deserved them, any more than they deserved the books she'd included to advance their knowledge. She had chosen "Happy Hoots! Advanced Owl Feeding and Care" for Malfoy (his eagle owl looked a little peaky and she'd written out a recommended diet) and "Sands of the Hourglass: Advanced Time Management Techniques" for Theo. Both packages were tied with large red-and-gold ribbons and covered in smiley faces. She almost regretted not being in the Great Hall for the delivery.

Her packages sent, she hurried down the West Tower stairs and had almost reached the statue of the one-eyed humpbacked witch when Theo's return owl found her. Hermione unrolled the small parchment, sealed with green wax bearing the imprint of the Nott ring:

Dear Hermione,

Please meet me at the Entrance Hall. I'm sorry.

Yours,

Theo

Hermione groaned. How could she ignore such a note, with an apology and everything? At least one wizard knew how to be properly contrite. Theo was standing alone by the Slytherin Hourglass, which looked suspiciously full again. He wore dark trousers and a high-necked green sweater, and his jaw, she noted, was still a bit swollen and bruised. He greeted her a bit cautiously, even thanked her for the book. Then he eyed her cloak.

"You're leaving the castle today," he said.

"I have an errand," she answered a bit coolly.

"Please, just one minute before you go," Theo said. "There's that tapestry of Everard the Evil—"

"If you even think I'm going to—"

"Hermione." Theo raised his eyes to the hall's high Gothic ceilings for patience and apparently found it. He looked back at her intently. "I just want to talk to you, and given the look on your face, I'd rather be behind a Muffliato charm while I do so."

She agreed, and they walked in silence to the ground-floor corridor leading to Firenze's Divination classroom. Theo pulled aside a faded grey tapestry depicting a dark wizard felled by a nasty spell that had turned his limbs into tentacles. Hermione paused to inspect the weaving—the artistry was remarkable, really, some of the tentacles' suckers were stuck to Everard's face and a slight puckering in the weave seemed to show how his skin was pulled ...

"Hermione?" Theo asked, the faintest hint of impatience to his tone.

She gave him a dark look and flounced into the alcove. Honestly, who was the injured party here?