An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
“Hold on, I-I’m not sure I’m ready,” Malfoy stammered.
“I thought you’d have plenty of time to study at your parents’ house,” she said silkily.
“Miss Granger,” McGonagall’s voice cut through the room. Hermione fell silent. “I will be here to show you back to your quarters when you are finished, Mr. Malfoy. I’m seeing personally to your stay. I trust you two will not embarrass me?”
“No. Thank you, Professor,” he said, teeth gritted. Hermione shook her head quickly.
She was already sitting down on one of the stools, her back straight and her eyes looking only at York. That morning, when McGonagall had told her who she would be taking her exams with, she hadn’t known what to think.
She couldn’t help but notice how stiffly he sat, his arms locked against his torso—was that the end of his Dark Mark she saw poking out from his sleeve?