Come evening time, Vale glided into the Great Hall for dinner, scanning the four long tables with practiced indifference.
The ceiling above continuously reflected a dusky twilight, candles floating serenely against the enchanted backdrop. He slipped onto the Slytherin bench, aware of the calculated inches of space his housemates maintained around him after his interactions with Malfoy.
Across the hall, the Gryffindor table buzzed with its usual chaotic energy. Vale's gaze drifted toward Neville, who caught his eye and offered a small, grateful nod.
The boils had disappeared, leaving only faint pink marks where they'd been. Vale acknowledged him with the barest tilt of his chin before turning his attention to the appearing feast.
"Windrow," Granger's voice cut through the din as she approached the Slytherin table, her chin held high despite the surprised murmurs her presence caused. "I believe this belongs to you."
She extended her hand, revealing the empty vial of dittany.
Vale raised an eyebrow. "I don't know what you're talking about, Granger."
"Don't play innocent. I saw you pass it to Neville." Her eyes narrowed. "That was advanced thinking, using dittany for potion burns. It wasn't in our first-year textbooks."
The challenge in her voice was unmistakable.
"Perhaps I actually read ahead," Vale replied coolly, serving himself potatoes. "Some of us don't need to memorize books to understand their contents."
Hermione's cheeks flushed. "Twenty points to Slytherin today. Quite the teacher's pet already."
"Jealous, Granger? Honestly, I have no desire to be… domesticated." Vale's lips curved into a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Or just surprised that a Slytherin might outperform you in this regard?"
Malfoy snickered nearby. "Run along back to your blood traitors and Mudbloods, Granger."
"Careful, Malfoy," Vale cut in before Hermione could respond.
"Underestimating someone because of their blood status seems... unwise." He looked pointedly at Hermione. "Some of the most dangerous minds come from unexpectedly stupid places."
Hermione stared at him, confusion flickering across her face at his ambiguous defense. Half of it was an insult.
What the heck?
"I don't need your help, Windrow," she said finally.
"Who said I was helping you?" Vale replied.
Meanwhile, Malfoy's pale face contorted with indignation, his silver eyes narrowing to slits as he processed Vale's statement. The entire Slytherin table had gone quiet, forks suspended midair, all eyes darting between Vale and the Malfoy heir.
"What exactly are you implying, Windrow?" Malfoy's voice carried a dangerous edge. "That I should worry about Muggle filth? That I should consider them my equals?"
Vale took a deliberate bite of his potatoes, chewing slowly as he observed the mounting tension. He could feel the weight of expectation—from Hermione, who stood frozen in place, and from his housemates, who awaited his alignment.
"I'm implying," Vale said finally, setting down his fork, "that underestimating anyone is a tactical error. Even the smallest snake has venom."
He turned his attention back to his plate, dismissing both Draco and Hermione in a single gesture. "But defend yourself however you wish. I have no stake in your petty squabbles."
Malfoy's face flushed with colour. "My father—"
"—isn't here," Vale finished for him, not bothering to look up. "And I'm trying to eat."
The dismissal was calculated and cold. Vale felt Hermione's gaze burning into him, but he refused to acknowledge her further. Teasing people like this, using only his words, was quite a fun pastime.
Malfoy, recovering his composure, turned his full attention to Hermione. "You heard him, Granger. No one's coming to your rescue as per your request. Now run along before you contaminate our table with your... presence."
Several Slytherins snickered, emboldened by Vale's apparent indifference. Hermione's shoulders stiffened, but she maintained her dignity, placing the empty vial on the table with deliberate care.
"Keep it," she said to Vale, her voice steady despite the hurt in her eyes. "You might need it when you realise what kind of people you're surrounding yourself with."
She turned and walked back to the Gryffindor table, her back straight, her step measured.
Vale watched Hermione turn away, her spine rigid with wounded pride. Something shifted in his chest — not quite guilt, but a peculiar dissatisfaction with how easily she'd been dismissed. Where was the fiesty Miss Know-It-All?
Perhaps it was the frustration of Nook's manipulation still simmering beneath his skin, making him lash out at easier targets.
After all, Hermione Granger had yet to fully blossom.
"Granger," he called, just loud enough for her to hear.
She paused, not fully turning back.
"I might as well mention this now, as I must give credit where credit is due. Your potion today was perfect," Vale said, his voice carrying an odd neutrality that made several Slytherins exchange confused glances.
"The way you crushed the snake fangs rather than ground them—showed actual understanding instead of just following instructions. Unlike some." His eyes flicked briefly toward Malfoy.
Suddenly, the nearby Slytherins understood. It was a borrowed knife.
Hermione half-turned, suspicion evident in her furrowed brow.
"Was that supposed to be a compliment?" she asked.
Vale shrugged, returning to his dinner. "It was an observation. Take it however you want."
The Slytherins around him shifted uncomfortably, uncertain whether Vale had just insulted or praised a Gryffindor Muggle-born. Malfoy's face cycled through various shades of confusion and indignation.
"You're... odd, Windrow," Hermione finally said, her analytical mind clearly trying to categorize him and failing.
"So I've been told." Vale met her gaze directly. "Better odd than predictable, wouldn't you say?"
A reluctant smile tugged at Hermione's lips before she caught herself and resumed her march back to the Gryffindor table.
Vale returned to his meal, aware of the bewildered stares from his housemates. He'd yanked Granger's emotions in two different directions within minutes—just as Nook had done to him with her academic challenge.
'At this point… I feel like—'
Everyone was a yo-yo to Vale, at least those his age. The older ones played the same game, only with higher stakes.
And he didn't have enough money for those stakes.
—Gloom.
Vale sulked as he ate.
'Damn Madam Nook…'
He was dreading the presentation date.
The ever-observant Slytherins were thus even more bewildered. What? Didn't Vale just insult two people left and right? Didn't he win another point this time?
Why was he sad?
Even Malfoy lost his train of thought. The yo-yo had its string snapped, and was spinning in chaotic motion.
o=O=o=O=o
Liking the story so far?
Support me on P@treon!
Link: pa treon.com/feralserenity
(No space.)
You can read up to 50 Chapters ahead!
o=O=o=O=o