She woke up feeling hot. The duvet – that was wrapped around her from head to toe – emitted the scent of firewhiskey mixed with fancy dark chocolate. It reminded her of Draco Malfoy.
Her eyes snapped open at the realization and she came face to face with Pansy Parkinson, hovering over her. She was stroking her tangled locks, but when realizing her hazels followed every of her movements, she awkwardly pulled her hand away, as if ashamed.
"Where am I," Hermione asked, voice raspy and her vocal chords aching.
Her sight of the room she was blurred, all she could see was the dark green gown covering the wall opposite the bed and the rich, dark wood of cherry that furnished the area. She liked what she saw, although had no idea where she could be or who's room she could be, given the luxury of the bedroom.
Pansy helped her sit up while she answered her, "In Slytherin quarters. King bedroom, to be precise."
"King?" she cocked a brow.
Parkinson scowled, but quickly started explaining, "There's always a King and Queen in Slytherin. The pair has the control over the whole common room. Even when professors what something with us – which is really rare, by the way –, they seek them out. These positions are not... recognised, just among Slytherin members, anyway, so it's not that big of deal," and she shrugged with that.
"Am I right to assume that you're Queen B and Malfoy is the King?"
"Ding-dong, Granger," she winked at her playfully and thrust a goblet in her hand. To her pointed look she assured, "Not alcohol, Granger. Just some innocent pumpkin juice."
As she tried to lift her left hand she dully noted that she felt nothing with it. Refusing to freak out, she reached out for the goblet with her right hand, fumbling with holding it in her hand. She willed her fingers to squeeze around the metal.
Pansy pretended not to see her inward fight with herself.
"I got the position during sixth year, and Draco got his in our fifth year. With being a member of the Inquisitorial Squad, it was not that hard to achieve for him," and she rolled her eyes, clearly amused when seeing Hermione's lips open in surprise.
"Damn."
The black haired woman knotted her brows in confusion, "What now? You don't swear until given a valid reason."
"Now how do you know that?" she inquired, craving not to speak about her lest Pansy would realize that something was of.
"Seen Weaselbee – sorry, Weasley bitching around, losing shit during the years, but hardly you. You just stormed from hallway to the other, but never said worse swearing than a firsty. So spit it out, Granger, I'm curious," and with that she jumped on the bed, nearly jabbing Hermione with her elbow during the motion. Pansy used the backrest as leverage, not having any pillows left, but she didn't complain.
Her smirk would have made a shark ashamed with the number of teeth showing.
"I'm lazing around in Draco Malfoy's bedding and I have my clothes on. It's uncommon, isn't it?" Hermione stated flatly with a slight quirk on her lips.
Pansy threw her head back in a deep, throaty laughter, the whiskey having its effect on her voice, making it hoarse and scratchy. Hermione watched with a lopsided smile as her tears rolled down on her cheeks as she continued on with her activity. Her shoulders sagged and she leaned back to the backrest with relief.
"Thank you. I needed this."
She shook her head, "I know. Your welcome," and with that she started sipping her pumpkin juice which she had crawls on the skin, but she didn't dare tell that to Pansy. It was enough to know that Pansy had actually worried herself sick because of her.
After an hour, Hermione got bored with the silence that embraced them. The perfectly crafted goblet sat on Draco Malfoy's bedside table, emptied and there was not much to do in a room so impersonal like this. Somewhere, Pansy got a few Witch Weeklies and turned the page frantically, eventually giving up the fight for finding something actually reliable material among the articles.
So when they decided to go out of the King's bedroom, Pansy needed to give a hand for Hermione whose legs behaved like they were hit by the Jelly Legs curse, constantly buckling and trembling. With leaning to Pansy, they managed to get out of the dormitories, and eventually out of the common room. During the march she felt at least hundred pairs of eyes jabbing in her back as she was escorted by their Queen.
Nobody dared to contradict Pansy as she walked out with her head held high and nose nearly upturned, dragging Hermione on her arm. Thankfully with her right hand put firmly in place – she still was unable to move the left, given that just her fingers seemed to function.
She held herself together even when knowing Malfoy must have seen the slur world carved in her arm.
Contemplating her next words carefully, Hermione licked her lips to side to side, before blurting out, "Can we go to Malfoy? I want to speak with him."
Pansy shrugged and took off toward the Hogwarts grounds, "He's probably drunk by now."
"He might be conscious."
The Slytherin Queen nodded in agreement, "He might."
Thank you for all of your support! 3 Now, next chapter will surely be chaotic, so be prepared! (Also, aischenna . tumblr . com; just for the sake of self-promo ;D)
