Chapter 7

It was Thursday and Madam Pomfrey had just discharged Atlas from the hospital, her arm scarred over due to how deep the cut had been but healed to the best it could have. She’d been locked up in that hospital for two days, getting visits from Hermione, Harry and Ron who all had things to say about Draco, not minding the boy was still in the room with them. Each time she only smiled and nodded, thanking them for visiting when they left before turning back to her homework.

There was a dull ache left behind, increasing to a sort of burning each time she tried to carry something but she didn’t mention it to Pomfrey, only assuring her she was fine when the woman would ask.

So now, Atlas was walking to Potions, Draco in front of her with an arrogant swagger in his step as he turned and opened the dungeon door, slamming it on Atlas’s face before she could walk inside. An angered grimace came to her face as she walked in after him. Her arm wasn’t bandaged as his was, neither was it in a sling. She didn’t need it and if she didn’t need it neither did Draco, after all, he’d only been snagged by a singular talon while Atlas got a painful three.

“How are you, Atlas?” Hermione asked as Atlas sat beside her, pulling out her potions books for the lesson, “Are you in any pain?”

“You sound like, Madam Pomfrey,” Atlas smirked and then pulled out her arm, showing Hermione the talon marks to reassure her, only, it seemed to only make her worse as she took a sharp intake of breath at the sight. “They’re not as bad as my face, Hermione.”

“I know but that’s not the point…” she looked down at them softly and then over to Draco – who was smirking at both Harry and Ron scornfully as they did his work for him – with a look of absolute disdain, “at least, this time I can put a face to the blame.”

A grin formed on Atlas’s face and she rolled her sleeves back down, “You’re terribly easy to befriend, you know?”

“Hmm?” Hermione hummed, looking back to Atlas quizzically.

“It’s just…you’re protective and already very…close to me,” she worded, looking down at the ingredients splayed before her as she absentmindedly flicked through her potions book, “you don’t know me is what I’m trying to say. I know you said Gryffindors are loyal but when I look at you and all of our other housemates you’re not nearly as close with them as you are with me and you only met me four days ago.”

“Well, I…” Hermione frowned and went back to her cauldron, coming up with a reply as quick as she could, “you’re…I don’t know…”

“You felt sorry for me,” Atlas supplied and Hermione spluttered, almost cutting her finger off when her knife slipped off of her daisy roots, “careful,” she scolded, taking up Hermione’s hand and surveying the little cut, beads of blood seeping through the crack. She cursed under her breath and rummaged through her bag, coming out with a box of plasters.

“I-I didn’t–“

“There’s no need to lie,” Atlas sighed, grabbing a tissue too and first stopping the bleeding before peeling back a plaster and carefully wrapping it around the tip of Hermione’s pointer finger. “Done…” she muttered and tossed the stuff back in her bag.

“Ok…” Hermione nodded, taking back her very hot-feeling hand, “I did feel bad. Everybody was making assumptions of you,” she started turning back to her chopping board, “saying things just because of who you’re related to…and well, as you so rightly put it when we met, I’m a Muggle-born, people make assumptions of me on the daily so I guess…I wanted to be your friend so you didn’t have to go through what I did at the beginning of first year.”

“I thought you were always friends with Ron and Harry?” Atlas questioned, looking up from her shrivelfig.

“No…Ron and Harry clicked when they first met, at that point, I was just the bossy know-it-all,” Hermione smirked, glancing over at Atlas who met her stare with a soft smile. “Anyway even when we did become friends we were never as close, the two of them only really warmed up to me when I took the blame for going on a troll hunt.”

“You didn’t?”

“No, I was crying because of something Ron said.”

“Suddenly, I want to hex him.”

“And you said I was getting protective.”

“Hermione, you might not have known me but from the age of twelve, I practically grew up on the stories of your adventures. I’ve been protective of you guys since before we met,” Atlas admitted, finally getting the skin off of her shrivelfig. Hermione stared at her a moment before smiling and nodding, going back to her telling.

“I guess that makes sense,” she muttered, “so…yeah, people didn’t like me all that much. People talked you know? Just like they did with you and I guess that made me want to talk to you.”

“So it’s not because my mother is Amaya Magianima?”

“That might have been a reason of mine,” Hermione smirked and then laughed, turning back to her roots with a bashful smile, “also because you…you intrigued me and well, as everyone likes to put it, I’m a very nosy person…”

“Well…” Atlas stirred her potion, a thoughtful look on her face, “I’m glad I intrigued you enough. Most people just ogle, whisper and walk away.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Hermione smiled sympathetically and Atlas shrugged.

“You’re not the one who gave me these scars.”

“Well…I’m still sorry. Besides, perhaps some people ogle because you’re good looking?”

Atlas laughed genuinely, glancing over at Hermione who looked back in confusion. “Just good-looking? That’s a first.”

“You’re terribly vain.”

“Blame it on Cedric,” Atlas shrugged, turning back to her cauldron. After a moment she looked back at Hermione and smirked. “You know, you’re not so bad yourself.”

“Not so bad? That’s a first for me.”

“Now who’s being vain?”

“No, not because I’ve been called something better,” Hermione huffed with a light smile. “It’s a first because no one’s ever complimented me like that before…to my face.”

“Huh, really?” Atlas mused and watched as Hermione nodded simply, not at all perturbed by it. “Well, Hermione Granger, you’re beautiful.”

“What?” Hermione chuckled.

“I’m serious, though I despise ogling, I must say I’m a hypocrite when it comes to you,” Atlas winked, nudging Hermione playfully. “Minerva actually has to stop me from staring at you in Transfiguration, don’t you know?”

“What?!” Snape slapped his book against their desk, eyeing them severely for a moment before walking off further down the rows, stopping in front of, Ron, Harry and Draco. The three of them were bickering over something. “You stare at me in Transfiguration?” Hermione whispered this time and Atlas nodded.

“Yeah, I noticed you scrunch up your face when you write,” Atlas hummed, “you look like a bunny. It was cute.”

“Cute?” Hermione scrunched up her face and Atlas turned to her, pointing.

“See,” she smirked, “don’t worry though. My friend, Bella, she goes cross-eyed if she looks at something too much and laughs like a squealing pig.”

“Bella? The one that works with Ron’s brother?”

“Yeah, I grew up with her, she’s like…my sister…my alcoholic sister…” Atlas decided, regarding a cat spleen with obvious distaste before chucking it into the cauldron. “Anyway…how’s Hagrid? I suppose you’ve seen him in lessons?”

“Oh…” Hermione broke from her stupor, “we went and saw him after dinner on Monday, he was sure he was getting fired. Apparently, a board meeting with the governors was called.”

“You went and saw him?” Atlas questioned and stopped stirring, turning to look at Hermione, hoping she’d heard wrong, but no, the girl simply nodded. “Well…that was stupid.”

Hermione puffed up a little, face the tiniest tints of red, “We were worried. I’ll also have you know, I was hesitant to go,” she got out and Atlas turned to her, gaze unwavering.

“Should have been more than hesitant. My dad’s on the loose, wouldn’t mind killing a Muggle-born and blood-traitor if it meant getting to Harry,” She said, leaning against her hand and stirring her cauldron grumpily, eyebrows furrowed. “…could have at least brung me…maybe he’d have been hesitant if I was there.”

“Oh, so this is you being scared for our safety,” Hermione hummed thoughtfully as Atlas only scoffed and tossed in a dash of leech juice. “Could have been nicer about it.”

“Could have been smarter about it.”

“Wow, you are mature.”

“Thank you.”

“I was being sarcastic, Atlas.”

“You have the brains to be sarcastic but not careful when there’s a serial killer on the loose…could have fooled me,” Atlas mumbled, turning her head to Hermione who was actually smiling in amusement. It melted the annoyance Atlas had felt and so, instead, the girl sighed, “Just…don’t do that again, it was dark out and there are dementors roaming about the place. I’d usually be all for it but…those things…they’re no joke.”

“I know…” Hermione nodded, “One came onto the Hogwarts Express, right into our cabin.”

“So you know how it feels? When the light of your soul gets sucked out of you…leaving behind a chill you can’t warm yourself up from,” Atlas mused, her potion turning a bright acid green, signifying its completion. She sat back and stretched, glancing over at Hermione who had remained silent.

“You’ve seen one too?”

“I’ve seen what it can do…felt it too, what it leaves behind,” Atlas told and something seemed to click in Hermione’s eyes, “See…you’re smart enough to piece something so vague together but not smart enough to stay in after hours.”

“You met your dad?”

“Yeah.”

“But that’s…only high-ranking Ministry officials can do that.”

“You assume I was a visitor,” Atlas smiled sadly and Hermione looked at her in disbelief, “I broke a wizarding law when I was younger, they held me there for a few days while they decided on what to do with me, I met my dad in passing when I was released. It’s really common actually, there was nowhere else for me to go.”

“You’ve been to Azkaban?”

“And lived to tell the tale,” Atlas leaned forward again as Snape approached them, turning off the fire beneath her cauldron to stop it from overboiling. The man came to her table and stopped, peered into it, flashed her a forced smile and moved over to Neville. “I didn’t do anything terribly wrong, mind you, so don’t–“

A soft hand landed on her arm and Atlas turned to look at Hermione in surprise, “The fact that you were only in there for a few days proves you didn’t do anything remotely deserving punishment like that. I’ve heard of wizards and witches who were sent there for accidental misuse of their magic for longer.”

“…thanks,” Atlas smiled and then she brought a finger to her mouth, winking as Hermione flushed at the gesture. “Keep it hush though…not many people are as nice as you, Granger.”

“Orange, Longbottom,” Snape droned, ladling up some of Neville’s potion and pouring it back in so everyone saw its bright orange colour. “Orange. Tell me, boy, does anything penetrate that thick skull of yours? Didn’t you hear me say, quite clearly, that only one cat spleen was needed? Didn’t I state plainly that a dash of leech juice would suffice? What do I have to do to make you understand, Longbottom?”

The boy began to tremble and so did Atlas but for a different reason, she went to stand, to cuss the man out but Hermione pulled her back down, “Please, sir, please, I could help Neville put it right–“

“I don’t remember asking you to show off, Miss Granger,” Snape snapped cooly and Atlas stood up, leaning forward over her own cauldron as she glared.

“Forgive me sir, but it seems a bit unfair that you’re only picking on Neville and Hermione when one of your Slytherins can’t even start a fire beneath their cauldron,” she bit, pointing over at Daphne Greengrass who, indeed, hadn’t started a fire under her cauldron and was, instead, too busy twirling her hair around her wand. “Let’s not forget the Slytherin who’s managed to pour two whole bottles of leech juice in hers,” she then pointed to Tracey Davis.

“Miss Black,” he began with a sneer like no other, not even Harry had been subject to such an ugly thing, “should you not be worried about your own potion?” Just as he said this, her cauldron went tumbling to the floor, the brewed to perfection liquid spilling everywhere. “Or what’s left of it.”

“You long-nosed greasy-haired prick–”

“I understand tensions are high.” Snape continued as if he hadn’t heard the long string of insults Atlas was throwing at him. “With your father being sighted in Dufftown…” this made her stop, her eyebrows drawing together in confusion, “Oh? Did you not know? Did your new friends not tell you the latest news? Let me repeat that…Sirius Black has been sighted in Dufftown.”

It was like a stab to the gut.

“Longbottom, at the end of this lesson we will feed a few drops of this potion to your toad and see what happens. Perhaps that will encourage you to do it properly,” he warned and walked away, leaving Atlas to fall back into her chair mutely, brows furrowed so close together they looked connected.

“Atlas…” Hermione muttered into her left ear, touching her arm gently, “I didn’t know…honestly, if I did, I would have told you.”

“I know,” Atlas mumbled, pulling away and leaning forward so she could tap Neville’s shoulder, “Neville, you want some help?”

“Y-yes please, Atlas…” the boy nodded shakily, she smiled and cast one more glance over to Snape before really getting into the instructions. It took a lot but Neville had finally gotten it to the colour Atlas had had it before it finally slipped into its sickly acid green colour. All the while with a pair of eyes on her, that really bore into her skull. So much so that she had to turn around, returning Hermione’s fiery gaze.

“What?”

“…nothing.”

“You say that a lot when I match your stare,” Atlas smirked, patting Neville’s shoulder as he added the final ingredient and began to stir again. “If it’s nothing why do you do it so often?”

“You’re just…intriguing.”

“Uhuh…so are you.”

“Everyone gather ’round,” Snape spoke, pulling the two girls from their staring competition, “and watch what happens to Longbottom’s toad. If he has managed to produce a Shrinking Solution, it will shrink to a tadpole. If, as I don’t doubt, he has done it wrong, his toad is likely to be poisoned.”

All of the Gryffindors watched with bated breaths as Snape picked up Trevor the toad. The Slytherins all looked excited to see the outcome, Snape dripped a few droplets down Trevors open mouth and there was a moment of silence, until Trevor started to shrink and was no longer Trevor the Toad but Trevor the Tadpole, Hermione and Atlas discretely high fived and the Gryffindors burst into applause.

Snape, with a look of disdain, returned Trevor to his normal size and turned to Hermione, “Five points from Gryffindor,” He spoke, glaring at Hermione, “I told you not to help him, Miss Granger.”

“She didn’t!” Atlas protested.

“So then it was you,” Snape sneered. “Just like your father, no respect.”

“You’ve got to earn my respect, pri–“

“That’s enough, Atlas, come on,” Hermione pleaded, surprised and thankful Snape hadn’t yet given Atlas detention and or taken more points from their house. She feared if it escalated further Atlas might probably get herself expelled.

“Class dismissed.”

*

The Quartet climbed their way to the Great Hall. Ron was going on about how Snape shouldn’t have gone as far as he had with Atlas, while at the same time praising her for sticking up for Neville, Hermione and herself. All the while Harry was still attempting his best at calming her down, trying and surprisingly succeeding in small bouts.

“Where’s Hermione?” Ron spoke, Atlas turned around looking down the steps, the girl was, in fact, gone. The class passed them, eagerly making their ways to the Great Hall for lunch.

“She was right behind us…” Atlas frowned still looking for her shorter friend, Draco pushed past Harry and smirked.

“There she is,” Harry pointed, Hermione was walking up the stairs panting slightly, she had her bag in one hand while the other looked to be sorting out her tie.

“How did you do that?” Ron asked, his mouth agape.

“What?” Hermione replied, finally catching up to them.

“One minute you were right behind us, the next moment, you were back at the bottom of the stairs again.” Atlas clarified.

“What?” Hermione looked slightly confused. “Oh, I had to go back for something. Oh no–“

A seam had split on Hermione’s bag. Atlas tucked a stray hair behind Hermione’s ear and patted her head to calm her down, picking up some of the books that had fallen with her left hand.

“Why are you carrying all these around with you?” Ron asked her.

“You know how many subjects I’m taking,” Hermione panted, “Thank you, Atlas.”

“No problem,” The girl replied taking Hermione’s bag and hooking it over her own shoulder. In an act of fogginess, Hermione leant up and gave Atlas a peck on her cheek, before turning to Ron, hopping into a discussion about how many subjects Hermione was taking.

“What just happened?” Harry asked, eyebrow cocked.

“What?” Atlas asked but before Harry could say anything, a voice sounded from the top of the stairs.

“Atlas!”

“Cedric?”

The Hufflepuff boy waved her over. “Uh, sorry guys, I’ll see you later.”

“Oh, sure,” Harry said, also waving at Cedric.

“Yeah, see you mate,” Ron nodded.

“Bye, Atlas,” Hermione smiled. The Black ducked her head and sprinted up the stairs, joining the fifth year and talking in hushed voices.

“How does she climb those stairs so bloody fast!?” Ron asked breathlessly, tired from watching the girl speed walk up the stairs, he honestly didn’t know how she did it so seamlessly. By the time he got to the top, he was always bright red and panting.

Harry shrugged, “Ronald, she’s a Quidditch player, she’s just fit.”

“Yeah,” Hermione agreed.

“What?” Harry grinned.

“I said, yeah. You’re right,” Hermione repeated in confusion. “What? It’s to be expected, all Quidditch players have good physical abilities”

“Right, cause that’s definitely what you were talking about.”

“Well, she is attractive if that’s what you’re insinuating I’m saying,” Hermione muttered. “But I don’t see how that’s incriminating.”

Ron and Harry exchanged a look.

“It really doesn’t mean anything,” Hermione insisted.

“We didn’t say anything.”

“Your eyes did all the talking.”

“You can speak eye now?” Harry smiled, cocking a brow.

“Ugh, I hate you.”