Harry Potter: The Price of Silence.

"Get your hands off of me!" She curled her fingers around his wrist, trying to dig her nails into his skin as hard as she could. He didn't seem to feel it.

"Answer the question, Granger," he whispered, dragging her face towards his. "The pain might not be real, but you feel it. Don't you?"

She hissed as he tilted her head back further. The ache intensified as she struggled and glared up at him. She didn't admit it, she wouldn't, just writhed and punched his chest until he released her.

She gave his chest one last spiteful push, then stormed her way to the open door. " Let's just get this over with!"

Malfoy followed, chuckling under his breath as he trailed behind her. "I thought so."

Hermione stepped through the doorway quickly, feeling the Demon Mask uncomfortably close, and into a familiar stone covered corridor. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath once she was over the threshold, relishing in that familiar scent of parchment and ink that always filled the air in this castle.

God, she missed it here. Missed everything about the school that had been a sanctuary to her for years-

"For Salazar's sake," a low, irritating voice drawled from behind her. "Another fucking Hogwarts memory? Really Granger? I know you peaked in school, but this is pathetic, even for you."

Hermione's hands twitched, wishing she still had her wand. "I know you're sick of the Hogwarts memories. You told me yesterday when we watched Ron, Harry and I run away from that three-headed dog. You told me the day before that when you watched me almost get crushed to death by that mountain troll-"

"That memory wasn't actually that bad," Malfoy interrupted wistfully. "I'd like to watch that one again, do you remember which door it was behind?"

"-And the day before that when we watched the sorting ceremony." She whirled around and stretched onto the tips of her toes so she could shout in his face. He didn't back away an inch, instead, his lips twitched in the corner. "I don't want you in my head any more than you want to be here! It's bad enough you're tearing your way through my memories quicker than I can stop you, so I certainly don't need you making snide little comments along the way!"

Malfoy opened his mouth, but she cut him off before he could even form a single syllable.

"Now, if you would just shut the fuck up so we can continue our little tour and I can get you out of my head as quickly as possible."

Without giving him chance to make a malicious retort, Hermione spun and marched down the corridor.

The empty halls had filled with students while she'd been screaming at him, and before long she noticed a head of red hair and followed it, knowing her younger self wouldn't be far behind Ron.

When she heard the heels of Malfoy's boots click against the flagstone as he followed her, she picked up her pace. His longer legs made it impossible for her to outrun him, but it wouldn't stop her from trying.

After several minutes of quiet stalking, Ron joined her younger double in the courtyard.

Malfoy's robes brushed against her hand as he stood beside her. "I swear your hair gets bushier with each new memory. Muggles know what combs are, don't they?"

Hermione bit her tongue until she tasted blood.

"The red coats are coming," Malfoy teased quietly as a hoard of wizards wearing bright red and gold robes appeared from the far archway, all with brooms firmly grasped in their hands while Harry dragged his behind him.

Hermione had forgotten how awkward Harry had been in those younger years, how his fringe hung into his eyes, and how his robes always looked far too big for his thin frame. She smiled when he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

There was a hiccup in the pace of the red hooded figures when an army of emerald robes sauntered into the courtyard.

Wood cursed under his breath. "Where do you think you're going, Flint?"

The two opposing armies stopped in front of one another.

"Quidditch practice," the leader of the emerald robes answered coldly.

"I booked the pitch for Gryffindor today."

"Easy wood," Marcus grinned, pulling a piece of parchment from his robes. "I've got a note."

Young Hermione and Ron wrinkled their noses as they inched towards the conflict. Her impossibly wild hair bounced with every confident stride she took. Ron swallowed nervously as he trailed behind her.

"Here she comes," the Death Eater beside her smirked. "The little lion cub; claws out and ready for a brawl."

"Do you ever stop talking?" Hermione hissed as Wood took the parchment and started to read aloud.

"I, Professor Severus Snape, do hereby give the Slytherin team permission to practice today, for the need to train their new seeker." Wood sighed heavily, annoyed, and scrunched the parchment into a ball. "You've got a new Seeker? Who?"

The sea of emerald robes parted to allow a boy with white-blonde hair and a familiar spiteful expression to step forward.

"Malfoy?" Harry asked, tone just as bewildered and confused as the expression he wore.

"That's right," young Malfoy said proudly. "And that's not all that's new this year." He made a show of leaning his broom against his shoulder, making sure everyone noticed how the perfectly polished wood caught the light.

Everyone's eyes slid over to the other Slytherins, realisation dawning on all of their young faces when they noticed the matching brooms.

"Merlin, I forgot what an insufferable little show off you were," Hermione muttered.

Malfoy scoffed. "What good is there in having nice things if you can't lord it over others and show them their place?"

"Spoken like a true spoilt brat."

Ron's eyes were wide as saucers as he studied the brooms. " Those are Nimbus 2001's! How did you get those?"

Marcus Flint's lip curled. "A gift from Draco's father."

"You see Weasley," Young Malfoy sneered, "my father can afford the best."

"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in," the young Hermione said with a smirk. "They got in on pure talent."

Hermione's eyes slid to Malfoy's as they watched what happened next.