"You know that I only agreed to this because I basically have no other choice, right?"
"Of course you have a choice. I'm not going to force you to do anything."
"Oh, like blackmail isn't a form of 'forcing' someone into things."
Draco grinned, twirling the small, golden time turner by its chain in front of Hermione's face. Her cheeks were flushed red with anger, but she didn't take the bait. She'd already learned her lesson the last 20 or so times she'd tried ripping it from his grasp. She wanted to tear her hair out, how could I have been so stupid...
"Well it's not like I want to be spending time with you either, Granger... I'm just desperate. If I don't pass this next exam I'm not going to make high enough marks to pass History of Magic this year. And God knows you're the only one in the that class that actually pays attention."
"What, your daddy isn't buying off all the professors in the school to pass you with flying colors? Shocker, who'd have thought a Malfoy would have to work for anything in their pathetic little lives!" Hermione spat, her anger getting the best of her. She tried to pretend that it was all Malfoy that her anger was directed at, but she knew deep down that wasn't true. How had she let this happen? She was never this careless.
McGonagall will kill me if she finds out... or Dumbledore... or the Ministry of Magic...
If it weren't for Draco sitting there, looking smug as ever, Hermione would have magicked herself into a deep, dark hole in the ground where she could wallow in her misery alone. How could she have let this happen?
"Make fun all you want, Granger, it won't help your case. The fact of the matter is that I know your little secret, I'm unfortunately failing a core class, and if you help me out you get your precious time turner back and I get to continue at Hogwarts without worrying my father over something as trivial and unimportant as History of Magic."
"There's nothing trivial or unimportant about the history of magical beings, Malfoy. There's a lot to be learned from the events of our past that we should be applying to current wizarding society and it's people like you who undermine the importance of- "
"Alright, Granger, I get it: you're a know it all. So are we doing this or what?"
Hermione huffed, blowing her bangs out of her eyes. She wished she could tell him no, tell him the only help he'd be receiving from her was directions on the nearest cliff to jump off of. But she couldn't afford to look irresponsible- McGonagall and the Ministry of Magic had trusted her to protect the immense power of that small gold hourglass, to use it for educational purposes only, and she'd allowed herself to be careless enough to lose the darned thing between classes. The the metallic glint of the time turner's surface seemed to be mocking her just as much Draco's sly smirk and cold grey eyes were. Both seemed to be saying 'There's nowhere to run left to run, Hermione dear: you've made your bed, now lie in it.' She suddenly felt an urge to slap the arrogance right off Malfoy's impish face. But of course she didn't. He had leverage that she couldn't afford for him to take advantage of.
"Swear to me that you'll give back the time turner as soon as all this nonsense is over, and then you have a deal."
Draco rolled his eyes, making a big show of bringing his elbow up on the library table and raising his hand up to face level.
"I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, swear to give Hermione Bushy-Haired Beaver-Teeth Granger back her silly lilttle contraption as soon as I pass History of Magic." He raised a single blonde brow. "Is that good enough for you?"
Hermione pressed her lips into a hard line, trying to hold her temper. She wished she could force him into making an unbreakable vow, but she could allow for anyone else to get involved in this. It was bad enough that she had lost the time turner and was now being blackmailed by the worst possible person in the school, she wouldn't allow anyone else to view her as weak or irresponsible. Because Hermione was neither of those things. She had just gotten herself into a sticky situation- one that she intended to find her way out of quickly and with as little damage as possible.
"I suppose." She said through gritted teeth.
Malfoy smirked, looking at her through lazy, condescending eyes. He extended his hand forward.
"Shall we shake on it? Isn't that the muggle thing to do? I do want you to be as comfortable as possible afterall, in these next few days to come- makes for better work ethic don't you think?"
Hermione grimaced, glaring at his hand like it was some sort of infectious disease. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She jut out her hand, grabbing his and shaking it quickly without opening her eyes. Maybe if she didn't see it, she wouldn't have to admit to herself that she had voluntarily touched Draco Malfoy. She surpressed a shudder.
"Whatever."
She immediately drew back her hand, wiping it on her robes. She'd have to sterilize them later. When she opened her eyes, Draco was still smirking at her, but he was now standing, gather this things and shoving them into his bag.
"Alright then; till next time, Granger."
"Which will be...?" Hermione asked, trying not to show how much it pained her to be making plans to see his detestable face again.
"Don't worry about it- you'll know. Don't call me, I'll call you."
Hermione frowned. She didn't like feeling even more out of control of this situation than she already was. But it wasn't only that... she could help but think that Dracos words were... well... quite a muggle thing to say... Wizards didn't use phones after all and she'd never heard the term 'call' used in any frame of communication among other wizards.
Draco's pale face flushed a dull shade of pink, as if he had realized a drop of muggle culture had touched his pureblood tongue.
"Could you remove the cloaking spell then, so I don't give anyone a heart attack by just appearing out of thin air?"
Hermione looked around- there was noone else in their vicinity, but she endulged him and removed the spell. She'd already lost- what was the point in fighting?
Malfoy nodded his head at her, which Hermione supposed was the most thanks she'd ever get out of him. He gave her one last condescending look before lifting his chin, turning on his heel, and marching away without another word.
Hermione buried her face in her hands as soon as he was gone. How had she let this happen?