Lucius Malfoy sat in his office for a long time after Draco's departure. After dinner he had retreated there, to think and to plan. Draco was proving to be a difficult child, more difficult with each passing day and it disappointed Lucius. The boy had shown so much promise as a youth, worshiping the ground his father walked on, despising all those not pure of blood. It had taken one little Mudblood to undo all of Lucius' hard work and training. It would take a lot of effort to get Draco back to where he needed to be. But it was well worth it. Draco had the potential to be something great. He was intelligent and cunning, shrewd and vicious, and his looks commanded respect. He was in fact the most promising of those slated to be taken into the fold during this years blood moon.
Voldemort himself had congratulated Lucius on having such a promising young man, he had hinted at great things for the Malfoy family.
And Hermione Granger was ruining everything. All the hard work and planning Lucius had spent years perfecting was being thrown away over childish, teenage lust. His work would not be interrupted for long. He would give Draco until the eve of graduation to finish with the girl, get that urge to defy his father out of his system. After that he would take whatever means were necessary to eradicate that particular distraction.
Lucius grabbed his quill and a piece of parchment and began to draft a letter. A small, vindictive smirk curled his lips, turning his fair handsome features into something twisted and dark. He would fix this little problem, in the simplest way possible. He would teach his son and that filthy girl a lesson in respect, and pride. And all it took was a simple piece of parchment, and a little note, jotted in less then five minutes.
Lucius left the letter unsigned, and rolled it up, pushing his fingers to his mouth. He let out a shrill whistle, and at once that family owl swooped obediently into the room. Lucius smirk turned into a grin as he tied the letter to the bird's foot. They would learn the lesson. And Lucius would get what he wanted. He could think like a teenager did, and he could resort to teenage tactics to achieve his goal.
All he had to do now was wait.
Breakfast the next morning was a tense affair. Although Draco and Hermione had come to terms with the events of the night before, the tone of their relationship had changed. It had been in the process of changing for weeks now, but it seemed it had finally happened. The lusty looks were still secretly exchanged, the verbal banter still continued, but it was even softer then before. It was almost blatantly obvious that it was nothing more then lover's teasing. Luckily the student body of Hogwarts had taken to ignoring the verbal barbs exchanged my Hermione and her friends, and Draco Malfoy and his minions. Even luckier was the fact that their encounters with each other were brief, and left no time for close scrutiny.
There was one on the stairway heading to the Great Hall, started by a snide comment from Ron about Draco's whereabouts, that almost ended in a scuffle had Hermione and Harry not stepped in. Draco had cast a short look to Hermione, and turned on his heel, heading towards breakfast.
And then there was a rather rude comment shouted out from the Slytherin table as the trio entered the Great Hall. Draco had looked for a moment as if he might break Blaise Zabini's face for such an affront, but decided instead to laugh along with the rest of his comrades. Hermione had simply tilted her head up high, ignoring them and continued on her route to her table.
Thus far there had been no more incidents. The quite hum of chatter among the students, and the scraping of fork against plate were almost comforting to her. Ron was going over his schedule for the day, groaning about having Double Potion and Transfiguration back to back.
"Whoever makes these stupid schedules is a sadist. I mean, you don't see us having Double Care of Magical Creatures now do you," he was saying, inhaling strawberry jam covered biscuits and eggs.
"I think they're afraid if Hagrid has us for two periods someone might be mortally wounded," was Harry's reply. He was eating his own breakfast in a much more civilized manner.
"If we keep having Snape for two periods I might just mortally wound HIM," Ron cast a glare up to their Potions professor.
"It's not so bad," Hermione sighed. Her thoughts however were on Draco, who would be seated across the room, right in her line of vision for the whole period. He had started sitting where he knew she could see her months ago, and had taken to doing very erotic things the whole time in an effort to work her up. "On second thought I'm wrong." Hermione said quickly. She didn't know if she could deal with Draco sucking seductively on the tip of his sugar quill for two whole periods.
"See? When the Head Girl is against Double Potions it has to be a rotten idea," Ron slung his arm over Hermione's shoulder, bringing her closer. "I say we go to Dumbledore and protest."
Hermione smiled, and rolled her eyes at Harry. He grinned back, more in response to Ron's finally taking some initiative then what he was saying.
Ron continued to babble on about student rights, making banners and possibly organizing a march. He kept his arm firmly around Hermione's shoulders and continued eating one handed, a skill he was becoming very adept at.
Hermione's thoughts were not on student rights, or even Ron's arm. They were instead on Draco, as they often were. Who knew what devilish scheme he would work up today? He was making himself too obvious lately, his little tricks to work her up getting more blatant and outlandish. Someone was bound to see.
She prayed for a moment that he would keep to himself today, and cast more attention on Professor Snape then her. She was pretty sure her prayer fell on deaf ears.
"And buttons, we should have buttons." Ron went on. Harry pretended to listen, nodding his head once in awhile. Hermione gave a soft sigh, and picked up her tea.
She should be flattered she supposed, not scared. She would just have to let things run their course. She cast a look over to Draco, and was startled to see his eyes focused on hers. He was glaring, his look cold and calculated. She felt a blush rise up on her cheeks and turned away.
Unfortunately the course was not always a steady one.
Hermione tried to steer her body as far away from Draco as possible, really she did. But somehow she tended to gravitate toward him. The chair that she had sat down in, which had seemed very far away a second before was suddenly only two people over from him.
How could she have made such an error in calculation? Draco always sat in the third row, fourth seat over. And now she was in the third row seventh seat over. From her vantage point she was saved having to stare head on at the boy, but she was cursed with having to look at his profile, which was just as beautiful. Smooth aristocratic features, chiseled in a thin slab of granite, cheek bones any girl would die for; full slightly pale lips, and long silver lashes, but a dangerous quality to his expression that seemed to carry away all the girlishness.
He seemed to be ignoring her for the moment, busying himself instead with arranging his things on the desk in front of him. Sugar quill, check, ink pot check, real quill, check, book, check, she could actually see him making the check marks in his head. Each time he made one his head bobbed up and down slightly and he reached for a new item.
Draco, however, was doing anything but ignore her. He could feel her eyes, running the length of his face, pausing at his hair, moving down his neck, his rather broad shoulders. He could see her out of the corner of his eye, watching his long fingers deftly move his school things. She didn't want him to see her staring, but at the same time she wanted him to acknowledge her existence. He didn't.
After Weasley's little display this morning he was in no mood to humor the girl. She hadn't even tried to move away, had even seemed to enjoy it. And Draco would be damned if he allowed a Weasley to take something of his. Therefore he had two options. The first was of course stealing her away with charm, and good looks, and little whispered sweet nothings. He could make her forget all about the freckled idiot. That way required an awful lot of effort. Effort he had already attempted previously.
Or he could dispose of her, get rid of her while he still captured her attention. This way he could tell himself she hadn't been stolen by Weasley, that he had chucked her before it ever happened. And he could do his father's bidding. This way required an awful lot of sacrifice.
Draco didn't feel like making the decision right away, instead he picked up his sugar quill and followed the rather dull and gloomy form of Professor Snape with his eyes. For right now he would ignore her, and decide later which course of action to choose. He would weigh the possibilities, and the outcomes, and hope for the best.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Hermione squirm with frustration. Never had he spent an entire shared class ignoring her, and he found he rather liked it. He could get the girl all worked up without having to do a thing but sit there and be pretty. And she was worked up. He could tell by the reddish tint to her cheeks, the rapid rise and fall of her chest, and her wiggling bottom on the chair.
He continued to suck on his quill, pretending to hang on Snape's every word. He tried to figure out what she was thinking that could produce such a response. Probably about the things he usually did during class, or perhaps what she would do to him later. Whatever the reason ignoring her was doing a better job then seducing her ever had. He had never seen her so flushed, or so antsy.
And he wasn't the only one who noticed. Ron looked at his friend, who was surprisingly not paying attention to the lesson at all. She was instead, casting looks at the wall on the other side of the room and fidgeting in her chair. Ron followed her gaze, and saw nothing that could lead to her discomfort. The Slytherin side was working diligently, not one paying her any attention. The wall her gaze seemed to be trained on was empty as well, save for the same worn out tapestry and picture of Harold the Herbologist.
"Hermione," Ron leaned closer, hissing at her. She ignored him. "Hermione," he repeated.
She gave him a look, trying not to draw attention to them. She pleaded with him to keep quiet, lest Snape hear them. He seemed to, surprisingly, understand. He picked up his quill, looking for all the world as if he was taking notes, and wrote "What's wrong?" on the outer margin.
Hermione too bent over her notes. "Nothing." She returned.
"Liar," he glared at her over his paper.
"Too much coffee at breakfast I guess," was the reply. "Now pay attention." Ron could hear the reprimand even in the printed words. He gave her a sideways grin and looked at Snape.
"You first," he hissed. Hermione gave him a smile. But it was a strained one. Had she really been that obvious? Obvious enough that Ron, Mr. Oblivious himself, was able to pick up on it?
She sent a glare in Malfoy's direction. He turned for the first time in class, and gave her the most triumphant grin she had ever seen.
Hermione felt her blood boil. Fine, if that's how he wanted to play it.
She reached up, and slowly extracted the Muggle elastic from her hair. She could feel Draco's eyes on her. It was her turn to work him up. Slowly she shook her hair out, letting it cascade down her shoulders. She could actually FEEL him gulp, and his blood rise. But it was not in lust, it was in anger.
Let him be angry, she decided. She was sick of being the one who was controlled all the time. She wanted to have a bit of control herself.
She began to run her fingers through it. Slowly and deliberately she pulled the soft tangles apart and let the light catch the golden hue in her strands. Draco wasn't the only one watched.
Ron too was entranced. Hermione hardly ever wore her hair down, in fact he couldn't remember the last time he had seen it. She had complained that it got in her way, that it was too much effort. Whatever it was, it was beautiful, all shiny and seductive, certainly not the bushy mess of their youth. He was shocked he had never noticed before.
Hermione gave her hair a flip, and then ran her hand backwards through it, letting the slight curls caress her face as they fell forward again. She pretended to take notes. She had Draco's attention all right. He wasn't even hiding his blatant stare. Normally she would be worried, but today she just couldn't seem to care. Let him do the worrying for awhile. She was exhausted of it. She titled her head as if to write, giving one boy a view of her face framed by the exquisite locks, and the other a view of just how exquisite they were.
"MISS Granger," Snape's voice broke through her thoughts, and her plan and she jerked up in surprise. "Would you kindly put that mass of string away and let Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Weasley return to their work? "
Hermione looked startled. The boys in question looked at each other, surprised. She didn't dare look at either of them. She felt her face flush, and slowly put her hair back up in his customary bun. Every eye in the class was on her now, and it made her face burn brighter.
"Mr. Malfoy," Snape cast a look at the boy, whose face was twisted in rage, tinted slightly pink. Snape then turned to Ron, whose face was reddest of all, matching his hair and hiding his freckles. "Mr. Weasley, do you think you can pull yourselves together now?"
Neither boy replied but Snape didn't seem to mind, he went back up to the board. Ron and Draco still weren't paying him any attention; they were instead glaring at each other, the possibilities whirling through their heads.
Hermione sat between them, nervousness wracking her stomach, making her fingers itch. This was all she needed, another reason for them to hate each other, more suspicion cast upon them.
The air in Snape's dungeon had never been so thick, and tense.
Neither boy spoke to her for the rest of the day. Draco ignored her existence, instead concentrating on glaring at Ron through every meal, every chance meet in the corridor. Ron however had tried to speak to her and failed, bumbling over simple words in his embarrassment.
Hermione remained silent. She wasn't thinking about Ron's stuttering, or Harry's failed attempts to make light conversation. She was instead thinking about what was going to happen in their common room that night. It would be a fight to end all fights.
She had committed a sin that might just be unforgivable in Draco's eyes. To him her hair was his as well, and was not to be seen by another. It was an intimate part of their relationship that hair, and she, in fit of rage and self-preservation had displayed that secret part for the entire world to see. Not only that, but she had fueled his jealousy over Ron. It was almost more then she could bear.
Dinner that night was tense between the three, Hermione barely touched her food, and instead choose to push it around her plate. Ron seemed to eat everything, in an effort to make his silence seem more natural. And Harry had given up all pretense of normalcy and ate in silence.
So absorbed were they in their problems they didn't notice the onyx eagle owl that had flown into the room, and landed not two feet away from the group. It stood there for a moment aristocratic and important and waited to be noticed. It was Harry who took the lead.
"It's not breakfast," he said stupidly, and looked at the owl. He reached for the letter tied to the bird's leg, but it skittered away towards Ron, and gave him a hearty peck on the hand.
"It's for you Ron," Hermione tilted her head towards the owl. Confused, Ron reached for the letter. The bird didn't move, merely allowed the boy to untie the scroll of parchment, and then flew away, out of sight. Ron look at the scroll, confused.
"Perhaps it's from Percy?" Hermione tried to peer over his shoulder. Ron shook his head.
"Well open it," Harry prodded.
Ron did, with slow fingers, not recognizing the seal in the blood red wax. He leaned back in his chair, to keep the other two from reading it, just in case it happened to be private.
They watched him. His eyes flittered across the page, getting wider and wider with every sentence, a flush creeping up his neck and invading his face.
Ron leapt up so fast his chair clattered to the floor. The letter dropped onto his plate forgotten.
Hermione and Harry had seen this look before. Rage. Pure unadulterated rage. His face was twisted, ugly with it, and his eyes were focused across the room.
He began to walk, with quick, jerking strides across the Great Hall. Hermione stood up and so did Harry, wondering what was going on.
Ron continued on, and stopped at the Slytherin table, just before Draco.
"Can I help-" Draco was cut off as Ron lifted him up by the collar of his shirt. There was a cry from the teacher's table, and the sound of another chair falling over as the administration struggled to stop what looked to be an impending fight. All except Snape of course, he continued to eat, disinterested. He had seen this coming for a long time.
Ron reared back his fist and hit Draco square in the face, blood spurting out, spraying his face.
Draco let out a howl of pain and rage, and then gave the boy a good swift kick. Ron released him.
Draco lunged at the boy, and returned the punch with full force, with the same effect. And then again.
Ron jerked upwards, using his knees to propel the boy off him and over his head. They scrambled at each other. One not knowing the reason for it, but not caring, the other too consumed by the reason to care for the consequences.
They rolled and kicked, and punched and spat. They banged each others heads into stone and wood. All around them the Great Hall screamed, and people clutched at them trying to pull them apart. And then they were frozen and everyone fell silent.
Professor Dumbledore, retracted his wand and surveyed the boys. Both had eyes that were quickly turning black and what appeared to be broken noses, both had bloodied heads and scraped knuckles.
"It is…a draw," the man said, a twinkle in his eye. "To my office," he gave a flick of his wand again and they picked themselves up off the floor. "Miss Granger, if you would be so kind as to bring me the letter Mr. Weasley dropped before all this commotion," Dumbledore turned a patient smile on the stricken girl.
Hermione had tears running down her face, her concern for both of her boys overridden by anger and confusion now. She obediently went back to the Gryffindor table to fetch the letter, slightly stained from Ron's plate now.
"You will accompany us," he put a gentle guiding hand on her back and took the letter with the other. "There are things to discuss. Many things indeed."
Dumbledore sat there for a long moment in silence, his lips pursed in what appeared to be almost a smirk. His face was patient and expecting, almost amused really.
The two boys, who just moments before had been fueled by anger, by passion, were now squirming uncomfortably, too nervous to think about the pain. They were too uneasy to think about the blood that coated their faces.
Hermione sat just beyond them, the letter clutched in her hand, unread, food stained, and wrinkled now. She was crying freely, tears leaving shiny rivers down a smooth red face. She wasn't nervous nor angry, just upset.
Two of the boys in her life that she loved more then anything in the world had nearly torn each other to bits. And over what? Over her? Over the situation, over lust, over jealousy? She couldn't be sure, but whatever it was it didn't seem to matter. It only seemed to be her fault.
Her fault for not being able to control herself. Her fault for sleeping and eventually falling in what seemed like love with the enemy. Her fault for not keeping it a better secret.
"So, who wants to start?" Dumbledore's twinkling eyes landed on each in turn. The two boys merely shifted their eyes from his folded hands to the ground, and Hermione just looked on, having nothing really to say.
"No one?" Dumbledore cast an eye around again. "I see it's up to me to volunteer you then."
He let his eyes rest on Draco.
"Mister Malfoy, if you'd be so kind?" Dumbledore gave a soft wave of his hand, urging Draco on.
"Be so kind to what?" Draco's voice, usually so deep and lilting was muddled now, nasally. It still didn't lack its usually snide and angry tone however.
"Explain of course," Dumbledore looked at him as if it was perfectly obvious.
"I can't," Draco leaned back in his chair, insolent now.
As always with authority, it took him a whole two seconds to become high and mighty if he knew that he could get no sympathy. Dumbledore had never shown him sympathy in the past, and he didn't expect it to win him any battles now. For once, he expected the truth to do it for him. Because for the first time he really had been doing nothing wrong.
"I was just sitting there, eating, when he came over and punched me," Draco gave a shrug. "Not really much more to it then that."
"You know, what you did," was Ron's short, terse reply. Hermione was sure she had never heard him speak in such an enraged voice.
"Does he Mr. Weasley?" Dumbledore turned his sights to Ron. "In your opinion what did Draco do to warrant such an attack?"
Hermione looked at Ron. She clutched the letter tighter, already knowing the contents.
"He...he-"Ron choked here, and splutter out one final word, "-Hermione."
"Well I understood that perfectly thank you Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore nodded his head. "He Hermione. That is an atrocious act indeed." Dumbledore shook his head. He didn't seem angry however, still amused if anything. Draco snorted. "Miss Granger care to help explain?"
Hermione knew that lying would do no good, not now.
"I-"Hermione paused here and took in a deep breath. "I've been seeing Draco...behind their backs."
"So you hit Mr. Malfoy because she didn't feel the need to make her romance school business Mr. Weasley?"
"No." Ron spat out. "I hit him because he's tricked her, he's done something to her."
"Is this true Hermione?"
"No," Hermione cast her eyes down. "He hasn't tricked me."
"I don't think I understand," Dumbledore shook his head. It was the first time they had ever heard those words uttered by their Headmaster. The first time he had acted as if he was not aware of everything.
"What's to understand?" Draco said snidely. "He's jealous. End of story."
"But I thought Miss Granger was seeing you? She doesn't seem the type to cuckold, if you'll pardon my rather outdated expression," Dumbledore gave a whimsical sigh here. "I'm afraid I don't know your generation's vernacular in such matters, nor do I wish too. I'm sure it's quite vulgar."
"She shouldn't be doing that with...that..that prat," Ron was beet red now, almost matching his hair.
"And that's for you to decide is it Mr. Weasley? Not Miss Granger?" Dumbledore sighed.
"As much as it pains me to take the side of any of my students," Dumbledore paused here, giving a meaningful look at Hermione. "I'm afraid that for once Mr. Weasley you were solely in the wrong in this altercation with Mr. Malfoy."
"But I-"Dumbledore held up a calm hand, cutting Ron off.
"Draco and Hermione have merely pursued a mutual attraction, fairly common among the student body, and if I recall a tradition carried on by each set of the Heads of the school. Your feelings for Draco, or even for Hermione, do not give you license to attack either one of them in anger, or even in hatred. Jealousy is a cunning emotion Mr. Weasley, in that it makes one feel justified in a wrong," Dumbledore held out his hand.
"The letter if you please Miss Granger," Hermione obediently stood up, looking at neither of the boys, and handed the letter over.
"I trust Ron that you will speak not a word of this to anyone, for I feel that Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy do not wish to have their courtship spread around school," Ron opened his mouth again, but was silenced for a second time by the calming hand. "If they had you would not have found out about it in a letter from some third party."
Ron fell silent.
"I'm giving you a weeks worth of detention, to be served with Professor Snape starting tomorrow right after supper," Dumbledore, "I hope, that in the future my boy that you will not let clever feelings overrule your better judgment."
Dumbledore turned his attention to Draco.
"As for you Mr. Malfoy, while you were the victim in this attack, to fight back is almost as much of an error as to provoke. You too will serve detention with Mr. Weasley, and perhaps you can work out the differences that brought this fight about in the first place."
Dumbledore opened a drawer in the large desk and placed the letter inside.
"This matter will be closed the minute you three leave this office, and what has been discussed here will only be divulged when Hermione and Draco wish it to be."
It was here that Dumbledore turned very serious, the twinkle leaving his eyes. His face seemed older then, losing some of its youth and vitality.
"What seems a petty courtship is very serious indeed," he sighed. "Never more then now has such a pairing yielded so much consequence."
Hermione looked at Draco, or rather, the back of his pristine blonde head, the hair going in every which direction. It seemed at odds with his usual perfectly coifed style, and somehow endearing, even in the present circumstances. He had not provoked this attack as she had thought he would. He had merely defended himself.
"It is not in my nature to give relationship advice, my self being unmarried, but I must warn both of you that while the feelings expressed may be real, this will not be easy. You will have many enemies, and for a short time perhaps be enemies, but I trust that in the end it will all turn out the way it should, whichever way that might be," Dumbledore waved his hand again, this time in dismissal.
"Now take yourselves to the hospital ring, Draco, Ron, and get those noses taken care of. The bruises I'm afraid will have to stay. Miss Granger, I believe you have a meeting to attend to in a short while."
With that the three trudged out in uncomfortable silence. A space between all of them.
That night, in the Gryffindor common room Ron was hounded. Both congratulations, pats on the back, and questions awaited him when he returned from the hospital wing, patched, but still worse for the wear.
"That punch," Dean was saying enthusiastically, "You should have seen his face."
The only one not saying anything was Harry, who was oddly quiet throughout the near celebration. He figured that Ron would tell him in due time, and perhaps answer some of the nagging questions that everyone else felt free to ask.
"What brought that on?" was one of them, asked aloud by Lavender, who was half angry at Ron for marring Draco's beautiful face, and half attracted to the raw masculine power he had shown in the Great Hall.
"He sent me a snide comment about my mother in the post," Ron spat out, his face turning red from the force of lying. It wasn't a very good lie, but it would have to do. It was all he had been able to come up with.
Dumbledore's words still rang prominently in his head. He knew the repercussions if Hermione and Draco were to be found out. He had plenty of time to mull over them while awaiting treatment for his nose.
Draco, as the son of a prominent and very vehement Death Eater could put Hermione in danger by being so close to her. If they were found out someone would want satisfaction.
Ron cast a look at Harry, who didn't seem as if he believed Ron in the least. Harry was thankfully silent, and continued to write out an essay he had been working on.
The congratulations continued for another few hours, until exhausted, and sore, Ron finally managed too escape to bed.
Harry was of course waiting for him.
"So what's the real reason?" Harry asked, perched on his bed in his pajamas, looking very young indeed.
"I told you," Ron said uneasily. He had never, in all his years at Hogwarts lied to Harry in truth. "He made a comment about my mum."
Harry's face went from grim curiosity to hurt in record time.
"Oh, that's how it's going to be then?" Harry asked softly.
"Even Malfoy knows, but I can't?"
Ron's looked turned to pleading.
"I'd tell you mate, really I would. But I promised Dumbledore," Ron sat on the edge of Harry's bed. "You know I would if I could, but something really serious could happen if I were to break that promise.",br
Harry smiled grimly and gave a nod, understanding. He too had made a promise to Dumbledore that he had not shared with Ron or Hermione. Eventually the promise had come to light on its own, and he felt that this one would too.
"Alright then," Harry gave his friend a reassuring smile. It was good enough for him, for now.
He walked down the long corridor with a purpose. His steps were measured and sure, his robes flowing out behind him.
He wore his bruised face as a badge of courage. He wore his pride and his sneer with an air of superiority.
He smiled at the worthy, frowned at the less fortunate, and glared at the hated.
It was another day, and everyday was just the same as far as Draco Malfoy was concerned.
The usual gathering of Slytherin's in front of Snape's dungeon were silent and tense. They watched him approach.
Some were confused, some were respectful, others were just curious. They hid their hatred of someone they had viewed as their tormentor in years past with sycophantic driveling.
Draco reached an easy hand into his pocket, and out of the small metal box he kept there popped a small lemon piece of candy into his mouth.
He ignored the looks his comrades gave him, ignored the questions already forming on their lips, and breezed past them into the dungeon classroom.
While most would have considered this cold and cruel, the Slytherin's were used to such treatment from their own, and considered it normal. Questions were answered during drinking binges, at dinner parties, and in the aftermath of passionate trysts. They were not answered in the corridor just before class.
They filed in after him, a few Gryffindor's mixing in with their group as the time drew close.
It not was long before Hermione joined them, meek and destroyed. A friendship lost because of her own selfishness.
She had slept alone last night, waiting up for hours for him to appear. And he didn't.
There were dark circles under her eyes, and her lips were chapped from constant nervous licking.
She was, in short, a mess.
She stopped at the back of the room. On one side was Draco, looking calm and cool, his mouth sucked in as he worked his way through the lemon candies.
On the other was Ron, looking bruised but cheerful as he chatted with Harry about something or other.
No one paid her much attention. All focus was on Ron and Draco. Half the class, the ones that sided with Ron watched him, wondering what the situation was. The other with Draco, for much the same reason.
Her involvement was trivial to them. Merely a concerned friend trying to separate two fighting foes.
Hermione took a deep breath and steeled herself. She took a seat directly in the middle, by herself, refusing to take sides.
Draco cast her a quick startled look, Ron refused to look in her direction. Harry just looked confused.
Hermione sighed and took out her things. This was her burden to bear.
Ron was halfway to his last meal before his dreaded first detention with Snape when he felt a hand on his arm.
He whirled, for some reason expecting it to be Malfoy.
"What?" he snapped, and then realized that it wasn't Malfoy at all, but the other culprit of all this misery.
Hermione stood there, eyes already burning with unshed tears, face all apology and remorse. He tried to steel himself but failed.
"I-I- wanted to have a word with you," Hermione said softly. "If you have a minute."
Ron ran a hand through copper colored hair, contemplating. A conversation with Hermione was really one of the last things he had wanted to deal with. That would come later, when all this was over, as it would inevitably end.
"I suppose," his voice was gruff, and colder then he had meant it. He didn't hate her, not really. He was angry sure, and jealous of course, but he didn't hate her, he couldn't.
"I just wanted to apologize," Hermione said, her eyes staring intently at the stone.
She had never before wished for it to open up and swallow her more then she did right then.
"For?" Ron was trying his hardest to look anywhere but at her. He seemed particularly fascinated with a tapestry just beyond her head.
"For not telling you," Hermione said softly. "For basically lying to you all this time. But you have to understand Ron, I never meant to hurt you."
"Well you did," Ron looked at her finally. His eyes were burning into her own. "You knew how I felt about you, I don't see how you couldn't, and you just let me continue to think that maybe, just maybe, I had a bit of a chance."
"But I didn't know!" Hermione was indignant now. Her guilt turning into anger. She hadn't known. She had an inkling sure, but she never had any concrete evidence. "You never told me, now if my big mistake here is not telling you about Draco then your big mistake was not telling me about you."
With that she turned, and swept down the corridor, leaving Ron staring at the tapestry, shaking with confusion, and anger.
"Would it have made a bloody difference?" Ron shouted at her retreating back.
His answer was silence.
"Time is short Lucius," the man said softly, red slit eyes narrowed on his subject. "Is the boy willing?"
"He will be," Lucius gave his master a small meek smile and then a more forceful affirmative nod. "I just need a bit more time, he is...distracted."
"What could be more important then his life's duty-" Lord Voldemort, smile a sick yellow grin of sharp pointed teeth. "-to me?"
"The troubles of a teenage boy," Lucius tried to give a understanding smile. "We were young once too." Lucius severely doubted if even as a young boy his master had dealt with the trivialities of teenage lust.
"There will be no delays in this ceremony Lucius, there cannot be. The Blood Moon approaches and so does his initiation into the fold," Lord Voldemort stood, pacing the dark cave they now shared. "None of the other's have given me so much trouble."
It was bare of almost all furniture, save for the two chairs in the center, separated by a single spindly table. There was a long full length mirror on one of the stone walls. Dark shadows swirled within its depths, eyes of red peeked out, blinked and disappeared again. Under that curled a python, pitch black, its yellow eyes closed, its tongue sneaking out once in a while as it appeared to sleep. Coiled as if to strike despite its relaxed pose.
"That boy is the most effective and important thing we have now Lucius, and I will not lose that."
"I wouldn't let you master," Lucius bowed his head respectively. And he wouldn't. He couldn't.
"Draco will be ready by the Blood Moon, I promise this."