Vengeance

Harry staggered and tripped over his own feet as he entered the common room, his heart only then calming down from the scare of standing face to three faces with the three-headed dog of the third floor. Harry had been so terrified that coming across even Snape out in the halls after midnight would not have been too bad, so long as Snape agreed to keep him safe from the dog. Although Snape might prefer to feed Harry to the dog.

Hermione was hissing at them too, at least as best she could as she wheezed for breath, all about how it was their fault that she almost got caught, and Harry would have agreed with her, if it wasn't her who got out through the portrait to follow them just to tell them how stupid they were.

Ron started arguing exactly that with Hermione, but Harry already knew that they were both too stubborn to give in, and decided not to listen to the conversation. Besides, as he looked around, he saw Neville's pale and frightened face, and decided to pat the other boy on the arm instead. He seemed like he might need it, after all.

The one good thing was that the common room was empty… if a bit… ominous, In the way that lively red faded to maroon and grey beyond the steady low light of the embers in the fireplaces, and how the tapestries cast shifting, ethereal shadows as starlight spilled through the towering window which reached from the bottom floor to the very top of the second balcony. 

Flanked as the window was by the decorated stone cylinders which housed the spiral stairs to the boys and girls dormitories respectively, it almost seemed to be a gateway into the heavens themselves. No doubt a visage created in part due to only the stars being visible beyond the panes of glass, neither forest or land to be seen. Nothing earthly. 

Though not a gateway to the stars meant for humans. 

Moreso one meant for giants, and dragons, and all sorts of other things beyond the mundane world. The light steaming through the windows hit the curtains and the tapestries and the chandeliers to create an almost… shifting, landscape of shadows, even as the light was constant, and there was no wind.

Harry smiled. Even in the night, when it was a bit scary, Hogwarts was still beautiful, and oh so fantastical.

Harry's smile dropped in an instant as he spasmed in a way that surely looked weird, but he thought it was pretty justified, given that he was very startled by someone quietly beginning to whistle an eerie and slow rendition of some music piece or other. The sound was coming from a chair turned away from them, towards the embers of a fireplace. It made for a very concerning silhouette, against the light of the fire. Tall and dark and towering, with it's high back.

The others also halted their conversation, each of them standing stock still as though by some agreement they had made, still as deer under headlights.

The whistling continued, still grating on Harry's nerves with every high, drawn out note, still almost threatening, as every tune which must have once been playful was now playing with them, like they were dolls, but continuing, which had to mean that they hadn't been caught, didn't it?

Then the music stopped, abrupt and ending on a sinking note, as though something dark was coming. The leisurely creak of the chair was heard, as someone got up, and-

It was Alexander, a teasing smile playing on his lips as he stood beside the chair, leaning on it's tall back.

"Oh, hello there friends - and you -" Harry winced a slight bit at that, as he noticed once again that Alexander now let no chance to mock Hermione pass, but it was forgotten soon enough. They were friends, after all. "- I do hope I didn't scare you? Especially after the frightful night you must have had, running from whoever Draco sent to catch you."

Ron burst into nervous, exhilarated laughter at his own behaviour just moments before, and Harry couldn't help but join in then, as he considered that they had been standing still for a minute, somehow diluting themselves into thinking that 'whoever it was' hadn't heard Ron and Hermione bicker. Neville even chuckled a bit, but then shook his head and hurried off to their dorm, still looking like he just wanted to sleep more than anything else.

Then Harry finally, really heard what Alexander had said, and his head snapped up to look at Alexander. "Wait, you knew Malfoy's duel was a trap? Why didn't you tell us?" Harry asked, his face pinched in frustration with his friend.

Alexander laughed lightly, waving his hand in a vague gesture as he answered. "Knew is a strong word, Harry. I suspected it immediately when Draco voiced his little challenge, largely due to who Drace is as a person, rather than because of any particular tell or sign you should watch out for in the future. Although, I suppose the real lesson there is to watch out for anything Draco claims to be true, his personality being the warning sign," Alexander said, smiling at them with a wink as Harry suppressed a snort at that - he was still meant to be angry, after all - and Ron openly laughed. 

Ron then cut in, a far more friendly sort of suspicion in his voice as he questioned Alexander, as though he was sure that there was more to it, but didn't really care that greatly anymore, as he asked "So, you really didn't know for sure, mate? And you're sure you didn't know?"

Alexander's face then twisted into a caricature of confused innocence, pointing dumbly at himself with a very overdone expression of surprise.

"Me? Claiming to not be fully aware of Draco's plans? Whatever gave you that idea? I simply remarked to Harry that 'knew', as a word unrelated to the context of the situation, is a strong, even powerful, word. Of course, if we're speaking strictly of Draco's scheme, then yes, I knew since lunch. People talk, you know? Especially Draco and his big mouth." There was a bit of a pause, as they stared at him, but before anyone could take command of the room - just before Harry was about to angrily do so, in fact - he spoke again.

"But see, given the nosy nature of the wretched little creature known as Hermione," His voice was ever so slightly harder then, with a cruel ring to it, but only for a moment before his usual smooth honeyed tone returned, "I had to assume that she would follow you lot when you left to have fun, intent on finding the source of this unknown concept normally known as joy, and exterminate it root and stem." 

"And while I was going to drag you back to the common room if I didn't spot Hermione leaving after you, she did, so I didn't. Because honestly, you cannot possibly expect me to give up something as important and valuable as petty, inconsequential vengeance simply for the sake of my two closest friends in the world, can you?" Alexander stared at them with big pleading eyes, and his lips contorted into a strange, big pout. 

But Harry still wasn't completely sure how to feel. Because while the other boy had certainly not known of the three headed dog, he still could have-

Then Harry was drawn from his thoughts as Alexander's expression transformed into a smug, self-satisfied grin that was just so funny. "Besides, it was really quite hilarious to have such a, how shall I say, captive audience?" His grin widened. "I honestly think that there might be some truth to what the headmaster said, with music being the most powerful magic of all, given that it allowed me to lay low four other wizards my age with only a single, slowly exhaled breath."

That was what made the dam break, and Harry and Ron both started snickering, before moving steadily towards laughter as they meandered through the suddenly less eerie and more… excitingly deserted common room, before they went to their dorm and had to stifle it.

Neither of the two boys, however, noticed that it had already been some time since Hermione turned on her heel and ran away with as much dignity as she could manage.

But the boys neither noticed nor cared. 

At least, not at first. But eventually, as Harry lay in bed, unable to sleep, he felt his mind twist around itself, coiling and wrapping around his memories of the evening, considering it now, without Alexander's honeyed words or silver tongue or quick wit there to disrupt the conclusions he was reaching. 

Because no matter how much Alexander acknowledged and joked about sacrificing he and Ron, wasn't it still exactly what the other boy had done? Hadn't- hadn't he picked hurting Hermione, who was just a bit annoying really, over his best friends? At least, Harry counted Alexander as his best friend, second only to Ron, and even that was only because Alexander was away with other people more, getting to know everyone. Perhaps Harry cared more about Alexander than Alexander did Harry, because Harry would certainly never let Alexander almost get eaten by a three-headed dog.

Harry caught himself at that a bit, and grudgingly admitted that, alright, so Alexander hadn't actually known about the dog.

But, still, the other boy could have at least- 

Harry heard a creak and was drawn from his thoughts. He craned his neck and peaked out through the curtains around his bed to see Alexander pull on his underwear, pants and shirt, look around, grab a two books and his wand, and smoothly glide out of their dorm on bare, near silent feet, his lips devoid, for the first time Harry had seen, of any sort of expression. No smile, no smirk, no grin or anything. Not even an exaggerated frown or mocking sneer. 

Just a- a dispassionate, musing look, as though he was passively overlooking everything around him, without really feeling anything in particular about anything. The pale moonlight hit his usually light grey eyes, twisting them into an eerie sight of pure white. It was a visage so far from the normally warm feel of them, like- like they were usually morning mist in the park, where the things inside were hidden and intriguing, but still the nice park. but now they were simply… They were milky white, like the irises of a marble statue outside of a church, or in a museum. Cold, and dead, and uncaring.

Harry knew he had to follow Alexander, but he wouldn't make the same mistake Alexander had. So he waited, at least until he was pretty sure Alexander must have gotten far enough that he wouldn't hear Harry.

And so, Harry slid out from beneath his covers, to creep across the warm wooden floors of their dormitory, down the cold stone steps of the winding staircase, until he reached the common room. Yet, he could not see Alexander. Had he really left, at this hour? But, why? And more importantly, why barefoot? It was neither the more silent option, no matter how eerily quiet the other boy could be, not with the slap of skin against stone. Socks would really be far quieter. Not to mention how cold it would be without socks.

Which… which could only mean that Alexander hadn't actually left, he'd simply gone elsewhere!

A small, satisfied smile tugged at Harry's cheeks as he craned his neck and looked up at the two balconies above him, feeling quite clever at that moment.

Perhaps he should give Alexander a little scare, as a bit vengeance for earlier that night? Alexander was a firm supporter of vengeance, after all. 

One only had to remember his treatment of Hermione to know that for certain.

Harry paused his prowl up the stairs for a moment, feeling as though ice water had been poured overtop of him, or like one of the ghosts of Hogwarts had passed through him. Maybe taking vengeance for something so petty wasn't a good idea after all. What Alexander was doing wasn't right. Harry could see that it wasn't, he really could! And it wasn't as though he liked watching someone else be bullied after growing up with Dudley. But… everyone was friends with Alexander. Harry was friends with Alexander, even if he didn't always like how the other boy behaved. And he wasn't really sure how the other boy would react, if Harry told him to stop.

Harry didn't want to be the next Hermione.

Harry felt the shame which had been festering inside of him well up and roil around his stomach as he finally saw what a coward he was being. He really should have gone to Slytherin, shouldn't he? 

He shook his head, and continued to up the stairs, hoping that no step, worn down by a thousand years of feet to a dull shine, would creak. Harry was so focused on the steps, in fact, that he didn't even notice himself reaching the second floor until he stood right by the entrance. Thankfully, he had not yet stepped into the doorway, and as such, no one within would be able to see him. Harry silently thanked whoever had designed the common room so that the stairs to the balconies were within the walls, to give more floor space. Otherwise, he'd have simply been standing in the open, ripe for Alexander to notice.

Harry sunk to his knees, before ever so slowly and carefully leaning forwards to peak onto the balcony. Which, as it happened, was totally unnecessary, given that Alexander had his left side towards Harry as he sat at one of the study tables, in a plush but armless chair, with his eyes closed. Harry simply shrugged, reasoning that it was better to have been unnecessarily careful, than to be spotted.

The other boy sat with a book open in his lap. Which was a bit of a strange thing to be doing in the middle of the night, with one's eyes closed, and another book and what Harry was reasonable sure was his wand also in his lap, beneath the first book. Especially when you had a perfectly good table right in front of you.

Harry felt his stomach lurch as Alexander pulled the book from his lap, lifted it, and showed it right towards where Harry knelt, the strength of Harry's heartbeat surging, and surely rattling his ribs enough that they were at least heard, not to mention his heart itself. Still, Harry had learned to hide, so he sat stock still, at least until he was sure he was seen. A habit which showed it's value once again, as Harry noticed that the eyes of the other boy remained closed, his face still as stone. 

So Harry kept watching as the other boy set both books into his lap, and drew his wand, before with mumbled spells and tiny lip movements which were cleverly hidden from Harry especially, he switched the bindings of the two books, with his eyes closed, and hid one book beneath the table by pressing it to the bottom of the table with his knee.

Then Alexander reset, and repeated.

But Harry didn't want to see more. He retreated, quicker than he had come, back to his large, comfortable bed. 

Yet he couldn't sleep. 

He knew what Alexander was practicing, of course. Harry was meant to be Hermione, and as Alexander switched the bindings of the books, Hermione would tell a teacher, and then Alexander would further embarrass her with the only people in the school who really liked her.

But Harry couldn't understand why. 

Why did it matter so much that she was keeping him from skipping classes they all needed to take? Why was he so dedicated to breaking her spirit? What was the sick, twisted thing burning within his friend, forcing him to keep going. To keep pushing even after Harry, of all ungossipy people, had heard that Hermione had been crying in the girl's toilets at least once?

Those questions haunted Harry, and he could not find sleep for hours yet. Not even after he heard Alexander return, and settle into his bed to shortly begin snoring. Sleep would not find Harry as easily, that night.

Harry knew he had to do something, when only days later a perfectly alive version of what he had seen Alexander rehearse happened in Flitwick's class, leaving Hermione trembling in shame and… and fear, of how everyone would react at dinner, even as Flitwick asked her to stay behind so they could talk. Probably about what had made Hermione target a "perfectly fine" student like Alexander.

Harry thought he understood Hermione. He also felt a bit queasy with shame.

And yet… and yet Harry was quite busy learning to play quidditch, and with homework, and when he was free, it just didn't feel like the right time to speak with Alexander about it all. Especially not when Harry kept seeing and remembering just how far Alexander would go for vengeance.

But at least Harry wasn't alone. He hadn't really talked to Ron about it, because everyone knew Alexander as just a friendly and charming boy, and they'd probably tell Alexander if they overheard him and Ron, but he thought that Ron was starting to see it too, even without seeing just how far Alexander would go. Harry didn't blame the people who told Alexander things, though. A lot of people seemed to owe him something, after all, even if it was something very small, and they were just trying to repay Alexander by helping the boy mend a breaking friendship before it was too late.

But the thing that kept Harry up at night sometimes was how easy it was to forget that there seemed to be something broken inside the other boy. How easy it was to just be swept up by the charm, the jokes, the feeling of being at the centre of every friend group, and how fun it was to be around the boy most of the time. How easy it was to forget to confront Alexander as soon as you sat down with him, and then lie awake later, wondering what sort of cost Hermione would be paying for Harry being a coward. 

It kept on like that, for three weeks during which Harry only slept worse and worse, until eventually, Halloween arrived. Harry was happy that it had, since it made it easier to not worry for the day, and just enjoy the smell of pumpkin pie at breakfast, and the good mood everyone seemed to be in that day, especially the ghosts. 

Whatever it was that burned inside of Alexander also seemed to have cooled, at least for a bit, to embers rather than a fire, and he had seemingly decided to just avoid and ignore Hermione for the day, even going so far as to pay attention, even when Harry knew Alexander found Flitwick's lecture on the levitation charm "non-essential", as he put it.

It was a wonderful day, really, in every way, even if Harry was tired. Well, Harry was tired most of the time, with the trouble he had sleeping now, but it truly felt like one of the days before Alexander's whole… thing, started with Hermione.

Harry breathed in deep as he, Ron, and Alexander entered the great hall, feeling himself finally relax at the scents and warmth of the feast, it being one of the rare days when the feast was already set out for them, and would be staying out till curfew so that the entire school could get together all evening. Harry had even heard from Fred and George that mingling between houses was encouraged, after the first portion of the feast.

Alexander ended up deciding to sit underneath one of the floating pumpkins, which the hundreds of bats fluttering around the room seemed to enjoy passing by, which was perfect for Harry and Ron, since that was also where the sausage and pumpkin pie was. 

They had arrived rather early, and while the feast was present, their plates were not, so they simply enjoyed each other's company, as more and more of their friends trickled in and gathered around Alexander, who was quite literally in the spotlight, since the pumpkin he sat beneath was facing down at him, like a great big pumpkin monster ready to eat him in a single bite.

It was wonderful and fun, and Harry was almost happy that Hermione had decided not to attend, since at least that made sure that nothing inside of Alexander would rekindle, and try to burn the joy from the evening.

At least until Alexander was chatting with Lavender and Parvati, two of the girls in the same dormitory as Hermione, and threw a bucket of cold water over Harry.

"Say, you wouldn't happen to know where Hermione and her friends are? I'd prefer a formal truce for the evening, rather than the unofficial one we have at the moment," Alexander said, an easy smile still in place, even as Parvati and Lavender looked at him weirdly. After all, everyone knew Hermione had no friends.

The two girls glanced between each other, before Parvati slowly started to speak. "I, um, I think she's… you know, at the loo?" Parvati said, looking away as she finished. Which was fair. Harry wasn't really feeling up for looking directly at Alexander either, as he heard about the consequences of what he was doing. Because… because what if hearing that made Alexander happy? Still, Parvati continued, speaking quickly like she was trying to reassure him. "Don't worry, though. I mean, she's the one always trying to mess with you! She could just stop, and be less bossy, if she wanted friends."

Harry turned to look at them then, to really see how Alexander would react to everyone thinking he was the victim, even when he stayed up late into the night to arrange ways to frame her.

And, well, at least he wasn't smiling. But he mostly just seemed a bit confused, as he looked at them.

"Come on, I'm being serious here. Where does she and her friends - even if she doesn't have that many - sit when she gets tired of bothering me for a while? I mean, there are times when she is nowhere near us at meals, and I don't even see her, so where is she then?" Alexander looked between the two girls, drawing attention from more and more people around the table, because how didn't he know?

Harry couldn't help but cut in then, "You know, Alexander, I think it might do you good to visit the infirmary, if you're honestly surprised that you isolating Hermione has made her isolated."

People laughed, but it was strained. Which made sense. It wasn't that far off from their normal banter, except of course in that everyone usually tried avoiding mentioning how Hermione was feeling. But as Alexander and Harry held eye contact, Harry saw Alexander's features harden, and something shift within his gaze. It was back to burning, if a bit differently than before, and the atmosphere of the table shifted with it, as Alexander folded his napkin, and slowly rose from his chair, light blonde hair shining orange from the fire of the jack-o'-lantern above him, making it seem as though he was moments away from being swallowed by It's fiery maw.

"You might be right, Harry." Alexander looked contemplative for a moment, bringing his hand to touch a thin scar on his upper lip, and glance down at his feet, for some reason. But when he looked up again, his thin face seemed gaunt, and his grey eyes burned with something Harry finally recognized. It wasn't what the Dursleys held for Harry. It was hatred, proper and pure, with wrath there too, as his lips twitched, right where his scar was, like he wanted to snarl, rather than simply frown. 

"But I find myself wanting to first finish something that has gone on for far too long already." Then he strode away, heading out of the hall without looking back.

Conversation returned. Everyone started talking again. It was less energetic than before, but that was always the case whenever Alexander wasn't around. Like he was brimming with life, and it seeped into the atmosphere around him. Harry and Ron weren't talking, though. Ron was quietly eating a Cumberland sausage, not seeming to care that he had to hold it in his hands.

Harry was not in a mood to tease Ron, however, as he simply stared down at the table, and thought. 

Because was he really such a coward that he would sit there, doing nothing, as Alexander went to finish off what he had started with Hermione, when she was more alone and sad than ever? Was he really scared enough of not being part of the group everyone else wanted to hang out with, that he'd stand by and watch, even after seeing the look in Alexander's eyes? The burning, hateful anger in there? Besides, he was sure Ron would have his back, and maybe Hermione would be willing to give them a second chance if they helped her with Alexander. Maybe they just needed to get to know her better, and then they could be their own group?

Harry squared his shoulders, set his jaw, and narrowed his eyes as he met Ron's blue ones. Ron had seemingly already eaten three sausage links while Harry thought for a few minutes, as he looked around a bit forlornly at the many friends around them. It seemed they were on the same page.

"Ron?"

"Yeah, mate?"

"We need to stop him."

"Yeah, mate."

Then both boys got up, hurrying out of the hall as Alexander's friends stared after them.

Neither knowing, of course, that only minutes later their professor would charge in, screaming about a troll in the dungeons.

Hermione was crying in the third-floor bathroom again, and she felt stupid for doing so. After all, it wasn't like she had ever had friends before, so why did it have to bother her now? 

Why was she sad, just because she had no friends even when professor McGonagall had told her that lots of students took school seriously? Just because she couldn't talk to her parents more than once a week with how slow owls were? Just because even the teachers were disappointed with her for trying to do the right thing and stopping that idiot from ruining his own life? It wasn't like other people didn't have it worse. At least she had parents, and-

A knock sounded on the door to her stall, and Hermione rubbed at her eyes to dry them, still sniffling, and her voice still choked as she answered. She really hoped it wasn't some older girl, who would just tell her to try more. She was always trying. To be a good person, and helpful, and nice most of the time too! Why couldn't anyone see that?

"Who is it?" She hated how petulant and choked she sounded.

"It's Alexander, Hermione," he said, and Hermione felt the bottom fall out of her stomach as soon as she heard his voice, even if it was more morose than usual with a strange echo. Her bottom lip quivering as tears welled up again, and she hated herself for being so afraid of him. Wasn't she supposed to be a Gryffindor? And he was only eleven, like her!

"I've just-" He paused, for a moment, as though unsure of what to say. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I really, truly am. And I'd like to say so, face to face, so you know I mean it."

Still, even though he said all that, could she trust him? What if he had brought people, to laugh at her when she exited, like Megan had done back in normal school? But no. She was a Gryffindor. She could be brave and face him. She could do that much.

Her hand shook as she reached out to open the door. 

It swung open, and with a deep breath, she stepped out, preparing to glare at him, and doing just that... until she saw the great crusader helm, put onto his head like a bucket, and leaning back so it looked like he was staring at the ceiling, even though she could see him looking at her through the helm. 

She couldn't help but snort, at her own fear of him and his stupid bucket head, more than anything.

"Why-" she coughed to clear her voice of the weak, wet whimper it had come out as, and swallowed. "Why are you wearing that?"

"Hm?" She could hear the smile in his voice then, and she hated how warm it made her feel to have someone sound happy to talk with her. It was his fault, to begin with. Before him, at least the teachers were kind when they spoke to her, even if everyone else still hated her.

"Ah, well, there's a perfectly reasonable explanation. I thought you might throw something at me, and if you went for the face? Well, it's a large portion of my appeal as a person, and I would rather not risk that perhaps a righteous throw blessed by whatever force helps the oppressed and harassed might take away an eye, or something," He said, his tone warm and fun, and as he spoke, he shrugged, causing the helmet he was wearing to rock forwards so it was now looking at the ground, stopping with a soft clang as it hit the back of Alexander's head. 

And then he brought up his hand, not to rub at his own head, but to rub the helmet on the spot where his head would have been if he could wear it properly.

It was stupid. And charming. And she hated him. Both for what he'd done to her, and for how easy it was for him to just- be liked.

Then he just- leaned against the part of the stall right next to her door and slid down it till he was sitting with his back to it. In the lavatory. It wasn't exactly dirty, but it remained a lavatory.

Alexander sighed as he took off his helmet, looking up at her with a pained expression, which only grew more so as he must have noticed her red rimmed, puffy eyes. Then he looked down at his feet, and started to talk while fiddling with his stupid helmet.

"I've been behaving rather poorly, and-" Then he stopped, and Hermione almost thought he had bit his tongue with how annoyed he looked, before he spoke again.

"Oh, who am I trying to impress? Not you, you hate me and will forever after what I've done to you, and I'm not inclined to liking me either at the moment, so I'll be straight with you." He looked up, right into her eyes, and Hermione glared down at him. She wouldn't be afraid. "Hermione, I've been acting like a right bastard towards you. I could try and excuse myself in all sorts of ways, say I was taking inspiration from some even bigger pricks, yet I've tried what that feels like myself, I've lost things to those sorts of people, so all that should have taught me is that those strategies are horrible, and that the people who use them? Even more so."

Hermione… hadn't expected that. Everything from the way he spoke to the words he used became more gruff and harsh. More straightforward.

"So, I truly am sorry." Then he stared into her eyes, and did nothing else. He neither blinked nor fiddled, not that he had during his speech, nor did he even seem to breathe. Hermione waited, considering his words and how he spoke, before she nodded to him. It wasn't forgiveness, and she was sure they both knew that, but it was acknowledgement that she believed he was sorry. She didn't think either of them wanted more at that moment.

Hermione stepped out, and slid down right beside the door, opposite Alexander, with her knees to her chest, the open doorway still between them.

They sat in silence, for some time. Neither asked further questions, and neither wishing to. Alexander seemed satisfied, simply being at her disposal.

Perhaps… perhaps she ought to ask him? He was being kind, after all, and he was possibly the best person to ask within the castle, with how many friends he had.

She drew up her courage, and for some reason, it seemed harder than confronting him.

"Will… will you promise to not be mean to me, no matter what?" Hermione asked, her voice sounding meek, even to her own ears.

Alexander looked at her, and there was no smile on his lips. But… it wasn't scary. He simply seemed… serious. Solemn, even, as he gave her a simple nod.

"Why don't people like me? I've… I've tried so many things. I've tried talking about things they care about with them. That works for a while, but then they leave. I've tried doing things with them, like homework, but that only makes them leave quicker, or leave me to do all of it. I've tried complimenting people, but that never even works to begin with.

Silence ruled as Hermione stared at her knees, and, from brief, nervous glances, Alexander stared at the ceiling.

"You know what I've come to realize, Granger?" Hermione looked up at him, and he was giving her a considering look in return, as though weighing what she could take.

"You're a moral paragon. Or, at least as close as a human being can get. A bit like Superman, really, with a strict set of moral ideals that you always follow."

Hermione's eyes widened at that. It was… nice, to be complimented like that. But, still that didn't really explain…

"But, don't people like Superman? Why don't-" Hermione started to say, before Alexander cut her off.

"But, see, that's the thing. People like Superman. And they like him, because they see what he stands unquestionably for, as a good thing. Now, I assure you, I mean this in the most respectful way possible," He said, holding up a placating hand, as he gave her a playful grin, "but your edicts of morality are ass. At least, to anyone amongst our peers. And before you protest!" He held up a finger to stop her, right as she was about to do so, her cheeks flushed with anger. She bit her tongue, though, forcing herself to hear the rest.

"I want to be clear in that you don't have to conform your morals to anyone, unless they hurt people. However, I think some self-examination might be appropriate." He gave her a long look, that somehow made her feel the need to question everything about herself.

"Because, if you really and honestly introspect to the deepest part of you, do you want to be the school-obsessed paragon of apple-polishers? Because I can't promise you that I'll like you as a friend if you do this, but if you decide to stand for something greater, to stand for something good and right, and unquestionably kind to the world?" He looked at her, and gave her the softest, truest smile she had ever seen him wear.

"But I can promise you, that everyone worth anything at all, me included, will respect you for it. And then you'll meet some people who like and respect you. And then? Well, I trust you can take it from there at that point. Humour is mostly practice." He said, winking at her conspiratorially, like he had shared some great big secret, and started to rise from his spot, hands raised above his head, ready to wear it. But not before delivering one last remark.

"Oh, and to be clear, I will respect you more than really anyone in the world, if you do end up doing that. Hell, I respect you already, even if I disagree with what you stand for." He said, smiling at her as he put on his helm.

"Well then," Hermione snarked, "If this is what you do to people you respect, I shudder to think of what you do to people you don't."

"See, you're getting it already, Granger!" Alexander said, sounding genuinely excited for her, which made her… happy. "Oh, and right you are. You cannot fathom what I have in store for Draco."

Then he started to turn, but never began walking, for something was hammering at the bathroom door, trying to break it open, rather than pull the large door open. Something alarmingly akin to the sounds of small trees being thrown at it, with monstrous force.

Hermione felt her heart beat only with the hammering on the door, stopping in between each hit, as dread pooled in her stomach, and fear, like icy hands, crawled up her spine to tickle her brain with a cold, bony touch.

It hit again, and the sound of splintering wood was heard. 

And again, and now whatever it was, was roaring, causing whatever had almost let them move to flee from their bodies, leaving them frozen once more.

And again, the door was struck, and more wood splintered, as the door itself shook. But now she could see the creature through the widening crack between the doors. And she knew what it was.

"T-Troll. Hide." She grabbed Alexander's hand, and pulled him into the stall she been crying in, holding her hand over her mouth, as her body tried to scream with every hit of the club.

Eventually, a thunderous splintering was heard, and Hermione knew what it meant, as the hits stopped, and heavy footsteps and grunting were heard, and a terrible smell reached her nose. 

It was inside the bathroom.

And they couldn't run.