Can A Phoenix Love A Lion? (Hermione Granger x Male Reader)

17. In the Serpent's Lair

The Slytherin common room was a long, low underground room with rough stone walls and ceiling from which round, greenish lamps were hanging on chains. A fire was crackling under an elaborately carved mantelpiece ahead of them, and several Slytherins were silhouetted around it in high-backed chairs.

"Wait here," Malfoy said to Harry and Ron, motioning them to a pair of empty chairs set back from the fire. "I'll go and get it—my father's just sent it to me—"

Y/N went to take a seat further. He knew Blaise was rather lonely, and he tried to fit his role the best he could. Anyway, he was close enough to hear Harry and Ron speaking in hushed tones.

Malfoy came back a minute later, holding what looked like a newspaper clipping.

"That'll give you a laugh," he said, thrusting it under Harry's and Ron's noses.

From Harry's dark laughter, it wasn't hard to reckon nothing was funny. Ron's head clearly screamed his fury silently.

"What's up with you, Crabbe?" Malfoy snapped.

"Stomachache," Ron grunted.

"Well, go to the hospital wing and give all those Mudbloods a kick from me," Malfoy said, snickering. "You know, I'm surprised the Daily Prophet hasn't reported all these attacks yet," he went on thoughtfully. "I suppose Dumbledore's trying to hush it all up. He'll be sacked if it doesn't stop soon. Father's always said old Dumbledore's the worst thing that's ever happened to this place. He loves Muggle-borns. A decent headmaster would never've let slime like that Creevey in."

Malfoy started imitating Colin. Far too late, Harry and Ron forced themselves to laugh, but Malfoy seemed satisfied.

On his side, Y/N had taken in his hands a small gift package someone had left on a table near him. At least, he looked less an idiot watching it than staring in the void.

"Saint Potter, the Mudbloods' friend," Malfoy said slowly. "He's another one with no proper wizard feeling, or he wouldn't go around with that jumped-up Granger Mudblood."

Y/N stopped glancing at the package and glared at Malfoy. Luckily, he realised his mistake almost immediately and lowered his head, gazing once again at the package and praying no one had noticed him.

"If Potter's the Mudbloods' saint, I think L/N's their god," Malfoy spat. "Well, maybe his blood is as bad as any Mudblood's," he laughed. "My father told me he had two Squibs for brother and sister."

Y/N didn't think it could be so hard to repress his body from doing something foolish. He knew he couldn't let anything show his emotion, yet his fists clenched and his knuckles turned pale.

"One day, I'll pay that L/N back in his own coin," Malfoy said. "And people think he and Potter are Slytherin's heirs!"

Y/N listened very carefully. Without a doubt, Malfoy was about to say something.

"I wish I knew who it is," Malfoy said petulantly. "I could help them."

For an instant, neither Harry nor Ron said anything. Come on! It's your turn! Y/N wanted to tell them.

"You must have some idea who's behind it all..." Harry said finally.

"You know I haven't, Goyle, how many times do I have to tell you?" Malfoy snapped. "And Father won't tell me anything about the last time the Chamber was opened either. Of course, it was fifty years ago, so it was before his time, but he knows all about it, and he says that it was all kept quiet and it'll look suspicious if I know too much about it. But I know one thing—last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened, a Mudblood died. So I bet it's a matter of time before one of them's killed this time...I hope it's Granger," he said with relish.