"So it's this again…"
The words slipped out of Hermione's mouth almost instinctively. Those who understood what she meant couldn't help twitching at the corners of their lips.
To be honest, Hermione had already anticipated something like this happening. If anything, she was surprised Draco had held back this long.
She had half expected him to make a move on the Hogwarts Express.
Yes, Draco could be domineering.
But Hermione knew that before he did anything, he usually considered the consequences.
Usually.
This time…
She looked at the male Head Boy, who had vanished from his seat and was now buried in splintered wood and dust. The sight made her rub her forehead helplessly.
It was satisfying to watch, admittedly.
But the aftermath wouldn't be nearly as satisfying.
"Draco, couldn't you have handled that differently?"
"Relax. I didn't kill him."
"…That's not what I meant!"
Leaning in close to hiss at him, Hermione very nearly lost her temper at that answer.
Using magic inside school grounds and using magic outside of them were two completely different matters.
Seeing how unconcerned he looked, Hermione lowered her voice even further.
"Hogsmeade may be close to Hogwarts, but it's not the school. Don't tell me you forgot that."
The more she thought about it, the more plausible that possibility seemed. Worry crept across her delicate features.
She wasn't the only one who grasped the seriousness of it.
The next to react was Harry Potter.
After all, he had once cast a spell outside school and been dragged before the Wizengamot by the Ministry of Magic.
With a similar—but not identical—experience under his belt, Harry understood exactly what this could mean.
His face flushed red, though it wasn't entirely from anger.
Perhaps he was furious that Draco had attacked the Head Boy.
Or perhaps he believed that even if Draco avoided Azkaban, expulsion from Hogwarts would be inevitable this time.
But had Harry taken a moment to calm down and observe, he might have noticed something strange.
Cedric Diggory showed little reaction.
Angelina Johnson, though a Gryffindor, merely bit her lip.
Even Ron Weasley only lifted his eyelids slightly, his expression surprisingly flat.
"You—"
Just as Harry shot to his feet, ready to condemn Draco, a voice cut in.
"Someone help him to the infirmary. And… that will be all for today. As for you, Mr. Malfoy, you'd better think about how you're going to explain this to the professor."
Even Penelope, usually gentle and easygoing, looked genuinely displeased.
She might find her partner exasperating at times, but violence had never been her solution of choice. As for interrupting Harry, it was simply to prevent the situation from spiraling further out of control.
More importantly—
She had no desire to see yet another student sent flying across the room.
Although Hogsmeade was a wizarding village, under the Ministry of Magic's Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, underage wizards were forbidden from using magic outside school grounds.
That included Hogsmeade.
As for how the Ministry knew when a minor used magic?
Whenever an underage wizard channeled magic, it triggered a monitoring charm within the Ministry.
The Trace.
But now wasn't the time to dwell on that.
Hermione shoved aside the Butterbeer that had come with the Galleon Draco had placed on the table, glaring at him in both frustration and worry.
"What are we supposed to do now? Should we run?"
"Don't be ridiculous. And stop worrying."
"But—"
"You're not drinking it? I paid a whole Galleon for that. You can't even buy Butterbeer that expensive at the Three Broomsticks."
"Who would drink that!"
She cast a disgusted look at the bottle. Its original color was impossible to make out beneath the thick layer of dust coating it.
Anyone who drank that had to be out of their mind.
By now, the Prefects led by Penelope had begun filing out of the Hog's Head one by one after the incident. Only Draco and Hermione remained seated at the long table.
Whether the others had followed the unconscious male Head Boy out of concern, or simply wanted no part in whatever came next, was unclear.
What was clear, however, was that once he woke up, he would never pretend this had never happened.
He would almost certainly come looking for Draco.
Still, the real problem wasn't him.
It was the Ministry's underage magic laws.
Yet Draco looked completely unconcerned.
"Anyway, let's go see our old friend. They've probably been waiting for a while."
"'Anyway'? What do you mean, anyway? Is this really the time to go visiting friends? The Aurors could show up at any second."
"I told you not to worry."
"No. I'm going to find Parkinson. The more people we have, the bette—"
Knock.
"Ah! That hurt…"
Out of patience with her flustered rambling, Draco gave her a quick, practiced tap on the head.
It worked.
Hermione immediately puffed up, baring her small canines at him in protest. For a fleeting moment, her expression seemed to brighten the dim interior of the Hog's Head.
Unfortunately, Draco had already turned and begun walking toward the stairs.
He didn't see it.
His attention was fixed elsewhere.
On the old friend waiting upstairs.