Invisible

by honeysweetcutie

HIATUS [DARK] When Hermione spoke for Lucius at his trial, she didn't realize how big her sacrifice would come to be. Eighth Year begins, she is invisible, and Draco can't seem to keep his eyes off of her. Hermione is attacked and it sets off a series of events that will change their lives. [possessive Draco, OOC, semi non-canon compliant, trigger warnings]

30. Lingering Scars

Author's Note: 12/14/2019 - Chapter is edited. This is Chapter 30. Please click the back button to read Chapter 29! There was a glitch with the site when I posted it so most everyone missed the notification. Please make sure you read the new version of Chapter 23. If you don't, things referenced in this chapter might not make sense.

The fighting resolves in this chapter, but there is one more bickering scene, and one major fight at the end of the chapter that ends in them resolving things.

This story has 55 chapters planned. There is so much plot left to have happen and it's all planned out to be released bit by bit. The romance plot is moving faster than the overarching Greyback plot intentionally. I will say that when they go to Denmark for Christmas, that is when the demon shows itself.

Going out of town until Friday; feel free to use the next week and half wait for Chapter 31 to re-read the rewritten and edited chapters !

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Chapter Thirty: Lingering Scars

Songs of the Chapter: Helena Beat by Foster the People, Origins by Tennis, Sunlight Through a Straw by Anavae, Run Up by Don Toliver, Spell it Out by You Me At Six, What's Wrong by PVRIS, and Walk Alone by PVRIS

Hermione POV

What was I thinking?

When Hermione woke the day after her most recent argument with Malfoy, she stared at the ceiling for what felt like hours. Her head felt lighter, much lighter. But her heart felt heavier. It was weighted down heavily in the prison cell that was her ribcage, a different emotion wrapped tightly around each rib. Shame because she'd allowed herself to get so overwhelmed and act on her emotions in the middle of the bloody night. Remorse for her loss of her gorgeous curls, which had taken her years to grow. Fear at what everyone would say, especially Malfoy, because she was still a girl and she cared about her appearance when it came to him.

And despair, because even though she'd cut her hair, she could still feel everything. Demetri's fangs sinking into her neck. Gareth's eyes scouring her nude body. Malfoy's hand wrapped around the back of her neck. Greyback's jaws snapping loudly next to her ear. The flat of Malfoy's palm against her backside.

What was the point of cutting it off if she still felt used?

I am such a mug. I'm such a fucking mug. Who cuts their hair at 1:00 in the morning in the Merlin-damned dark?

She supposed she would have to get up eventually and have a look at it. It wasn't as if it were going to magically grow back, even if she was a witch. If she was ugly lying down now, she'd be just as ugly standing up.

She pouted. What did it matter? To people like them, she was filthy no matter what length her hair was. Even if her hair did look like a wreck, she was sure at a Revel, they'd still find a way to hurt her.

Hermione wasn't daft, either. She had cut her hair in the middle of a panic attack, but she'd known better than to cut it too short. She'd definitely hacked at the curls like they were weeds in a garden, or poisoned flowers that had died and needed to be removed, but she'd made sure not to go too high above the shoulders.

That meant it either looked like a pyramid hat or a styrofoam ball, there would be no in-between. Of that, she was certain.

Literally, I fight with Draco all the time. Why did this time give me such bad nightmares?

She hadn't realized how deeply the events of the Revel were affecting her, nor how much her arguments with Draco were tormenting her. She couldn't seem to stop lashing out at him, no matter what she tried to do to overcome her anger. The fact that he already had a short temper didn't help things. She wasn't sure how they were going to be able to resolve things and make it past their previous arguments if she couldn't figure out how to manage her anger. She needed to really sit and think and ask herself why she was struggling so badly.

Hermione touched her lips.

He'd kissed her, and it was just as amazing as the first kiss. But it hadn't helped anything for her. It had only made her feel more confused. She wanted to believe in his kiss, and she really wanted to believe in the possessiveness in his touch, but it was difficult when his lips had curled around the word "Mudblood" and his hands had struck her and whipped her.

Even though the wounds were healed, she still felt them stinging just as fresh as they had that night.

I don't even want to get up and look.

Hermione's nightmare had started with the Revel, but had quickly devolved into a Hellish dreamscape of fire and terror, where all she heard was the cracking of Malfoy's whip and the growling of his wolf. She felt the tearing of her flesh as acutely as she'd felt it on the Drawing Room chaise, and she woke with sobs in her throat. She'd felt sweat on her back, and her head felt heavy.

She'd dreamed that they were all tearing at her hair next. After falling back asleep, she found herself lying in a pit of flames, looking up into the glaring eyes of Enicto, Demetri, and Gareth. They all fisted clumps of her hair and pulled in opposite directions, ignoring her screams of agony as her scalp tore away from her skull. Then, when her vision was blurred by tears and blood, Greyback and Malfoy stalked towards her, melting out of the darkness in their wolf forms, one white and one grey. They'd licked their chops, showed her their fangs, and set upon her to consume the flesh on her face.

She'd screamed and tossed and turned and when she woke for the second time, she could swear her scalp was tender.

It was all she could do not to run to the dresser, and she'd cut her hair so no one would be able to use it against her again. Relief had flooded her with every snip, each falling curl feeling like she was shedding ten pounds at a time. But the lighter her head got, the heavier her heart became with dread and guilt. She regretted it, not because of her looks, but because it was hers. She'd had one thing that was hers, that the Revel and Greyback hadn't taken from her, and she'd just destroyed it.

Now, she didn't know whether to feel regret for making the decision so rashly, or triumph because she'd done something for herself for once in her life.

Hermione sighed and sat up. It was Monday and class was starting soon. She couldn't lie in bed all day, even though she really wanted to. She had coursework due in all of her classes before winter holiday, and she only had until Friday to get them done. So even though she really wanted to pull the blankets over her head and hide for the rest of forever, she hauled herself out of bed.

She grimaced. Her soft brown curls were strewn about in a pile on the floor, some atop the dresser. She picked her wand up from the bedside table and cleaned the disastrous mess, keeping her eyes lowered so she didn't catch a glimpse of herself before she was mentally prepared.

It's now or never, Hermione, she thought, clenching her fists at her sides. You've got the same face whether you're bald or have hair to the floor, so you might as well look at it.

She lifted her honey-brown eyes. As she gazed at herself in the mirror, at the mixed lengths of curls, she went pale. It looked ridiculous, with random curls hanging to her chest, chunky blocks of thick hair curling around the top of her spine, and the left side shorter than the right. It was just a mess.

It was neither a pyramid nor a sphere.

"Ugh, my hair looks like an elongated, vertical bezoar!" she screamed at her reflection. "What was I thinking?"

But the longer she looked at it, the less awful it looked. It definitely needed to be fixed, but for the first time in months, she didn't hate what she was looking at. She was able to look into the mirror and just see herself, Hermione Granger, with something as normal as a bad haircut.

She'd never felt more beautiful.

Hermione smiled at herself and played with some mock hairstyles in the mirror. It had no shape, but the majority of the curls brushed past her collarbones. She was able to wear ponytails and updos quite easily, even though some strands fell down, and she figured it would be fine until the weekend when she could go to Hogsmeade to have it shaped.

In any case, she felt great.

The rain continued through the morning, and the feeling of dreariness that Hermione felt in her heart regarding Malfoy seemed to reflect itself all throughout the castle. The halls were quiet and everyone moved a lot slower than normal. No one noticed her hair because she'd put it up into a bun with a few tendrils framing her face, and her first class passed rather uneventfully.

For the first time in weeks, Hermione was actually able to pay attention in Charms. She typically feigned interest while thinking about Malfoy and the fact that he was a supernatural creature, but today, she felt like her mind was clear. He was still in there, of course, but he wasn't dominating her brain any longer. She was able to put him in his compartment where he belonged, and put her entire focus on Professor Flitwick's lecture on the origins of Celtic water charms. She felt like herself again. It was like her curls twisted their way around all of her struggles and when she snipped them off, they no longer had any power over her.

Luna met her by the door for Transfiguration, and Hermione marched up to her with determination. She hadn't felt this light in so long and she had to tell someone.

"You should really think about cutting your hair, Luna," she said, eyes wide and smile bright. "It does wonders for your mind."

"So do fiddlewumps," Luna said dreamily, and then her eyes raised to take in Hermione's chignon. "Did you cut your hair, or something?"

"I did," Hermione said, beaming at her. "It looks absolutely horrid, but it feels amazing."

Luna giggled and together the two of them went to sit by Ron. He didn't notice Hermione's hair, of course, but she hadn't expected him to notice anything about her since the fiasco that was the Yule Ball. She didn't say anything, either. Telling Luna felt great, but aside from that, her newfound freedom felt like it belonged to her. She wanted to hang on to it for awhile and when she got it styled, then she would let everyone else see how free she felt.

In Transfiguration, they learned how to transfigure plants into possessing eyes, and Hermione had so much fun that she didn't think about her arguments with Malfoy once. Luna gave her venus flytrap fluttering lashes, Ron gave his fern giant googly eyeballs, and in front of them, Dean was losing himself in fits of laughter over the cyclops eye he'd given his succulent. Hermione found herself laughing along with them, even though she preferred to give her plant a normal set of eyeballs.

There was just one thing that put a damper on her good mood.

"Interesting choice of eye color, Miss Granger," said the Professor as he toddled by. "I don't think I've seen a student choose silver before."

Hermione felt her high spirits deflating as she stared at the rather uncanny set of silver eyes blinking up at her from her plant. She pouted at them. They were an interesting choice indeed.

Luna rested her chin in her hand and gave Hermione a knowing smile.

"It's all right, Hermione. I chose blue for mine."

Hermione looked and saw that the long, fluttering lashes Luna had conjured framed a set of familiar cerulean irises. She glanced at Ron, who was laughing uproariously while chatting with Dean. His eyes were blue, as they always had been.

Maybe Malfoy wasn't as safely locked away in his compartment as she thought.

Luna, Ron, Dean, and Hermione walked to lunch together after class, the girls trailing behind the boisterous boys. Hermione felt lost in her thoughts again, and she continuously sighed to help cope with the immense sadness that was starting to settle over her again. Just how much power did Malfoy have over her?

"That is the ninth time you've sighed in the last two minutes, Hermione," Luna said softly, linking her arm through Hermione's. Hermione couldn't help but notice that her jumper was made entirely of velvet. Which normally wouldn't be out of the ordinary, except that it was lime green.

"I'm just . . . Sigh-y today," Hermione mumbled as they meandered down the corridor.

"You were more smile-y at the start of class," Luna pointed out, leaning into Hermione for a second. "You know, it's all right to fancy him. There's no shame in it."

Hermione didn't say anything. Because that was the problem. She was ashamed of her feelings. She supposed it was a mixture of things that bothered her about fancying Malfoy. Aside from their past, which really was the past now, they had so many current experiences that made her wonder if she'd gone barmy, or if she was so insecure that he could do or say anything and she would still be affected by it. And Hermione Granger was not an insecure person. She never had been, until him.

"After what happened . . ." She looked at Luna pointedly. She hoped she remembered their heart-to-heart in the Library yesterday well enough to glean what she was referencing so she wouldn't have to say it out loud. "It feels like I'm doing something wrong. It feels like I shouldn't fancy him. Even though what happened wasn't his fault."

"Do you think your relationship is forever changed?"

Hermione blushed. "I wouldn't say we're in a relationship. But whatever it is that we have between us, it does feel wrong after . . . After what happened at the Manor. It feels toxic."

They stepped onto a moving staircase, a beat behind Dean and Ron. Luna looked at Hermione thoughtfully, still hugging her arm tightly.

"Can I ask you why you cut your hair, Hermione?" she asked, her eyes scanning the top of Hermione's head again. "The real reason."

Hermione bit her lip. "I've been struggling lately, with the memories and with him. I don't trust him at all, and I don't know why. It just feels like everything he says is a lie, and like he's using me. Like he's been using me from the beginning. We've argued about it before, but I can't shake it. We argued yesterday, too, and it gave me nightmares."

"The argument?"

"Well, yes and no. But mostly, I dreamed of the . . ." She lowered her voice as their staircase docked and they joined the mass amounts of students heading towards the Great Hall. "The Revel. And I dreamed he was hurting me."

"And then you woke up and cut your hair," Luna whispered back, her brow furrowing with sympathy.

"I just . . . He was dragging me. They all were. And when we were there, when it happened, he dragged me, too. Out of everything that happened that night, that was the first thing he did that was completely out of his control. And it's stuck with me." Hermione curled her fingers in the fabric of Luna's jumper sleeve. "So I cut my hair. And like I said, it looks awful, but I can get it fixed at Hogsmeade. Anyway, I don't care how it looks right now. It makes me feel good."

Luna was silent for a moment and then she stopped walking. Hermione was forced to stop, too, stumbling a bit and looking at her best friend in question. Students parted around them, looking at them with irritation, but continuing without conflict.

"Let's take lunch to your dorm today," the blonde said with a twinkle in her eyes. "I'll help you with your hair, and we can have a chat. What do you say?"

"Hm . . . Well, that sounds lovely," Hermione said, feeling relieved. She wasn't exactly looking forward to encountering Malfoy in the Great Hall, anyway. He never ate and usually just drank liquids. Somehow, Hermione knew she wasn't going to be able to handle seeing him there and in Potions, too.

The two girls talked amongst themselves about the incessant, oppressive Scotland rain as they wandered into the Great Hall and to the Eighth Year table. Hermione had no issues with the rain, but to her surprise, Luna actually couldn't stand it.

"For my kind, it's strange," Luna said quietly as they loaded some plates with food to tote to the common room. "It's sort-of like when you have the flu and sleep for hours. You go to sleep in the dark and wake up in the dark, and it confuses you."

"Rain affects a vampire's Circadian Rhythm?" Hermione asked, her brows raised in intrigue.

"Not rain, but this particular kind of weather. The sky is very dark all day and it can be easy to stay up all day and all night, and I'm already less myself when I'm at Hogwarts because of this." She lifted her wrist to show the bracelet she always wore. "At home with my father, I sleep during the day and stay up at night, but at Hogwarts, I switch. The rain makes my body think we're switching again."

"That's fascinating," Hermione said, awed. She didn't know much about vampires, and Malfoy wasn't any sort of source material to study since he wasn't one.

They turned to leave the Great Hall with their plates, and stopped in their tracks when they came face-to-face with a crowd of Third Year students. They were walking rather slowly because one witch had brought her familiar to the Great Hall with her. It was a huge calico cat with green eyes, and it was slipping out of the slight girl's arms.

Hermione frowned. She could already see this going terribly.

"Oh, dear," Luna said.

As if on cue, the cat slid out of the girl's grasp and landed on the stone ground with a plop and a meow, and then it took off. The witch began to scream and panic because at thirteen, the worst thing that can happen to you is your cat running helter-skelter through the castle, and a ruckus began to break out amongst the group she'd entered with, the students still filtering in for lunch, and random older students who found the situation humorous.

"My kitty!" the witch wailed, tears rolling fat and wet down her cheeks. She wore too much make-up, but she was thirteen, so it made sense. "Someone get my kitty!"

Hermione, thinking of Crookshanks and empathizing, acted immediately. She set her plate down and dashed off after the cat, watching as the plump furball wove its way through countless pairs of legs. She followed as best she could as it inevitably made it to the doors to escape.

"Oi!" came a shout as Hermione smacked directly into someone's chest. "You're blind as a bat, aren't you, Hermione?"

"Blaise," Hermione breathed, her hands on his upper arms. "That cat - it's hers - someone has to get it!"

Just then, she noticed that Malfoy was standing slightly behind Blaise, and his eyes were trained directly on her fingers where they were on Blaise's sleeves. On reflex, she jumped back from Blaise. She looked past him, trying to spot the familiar, and forcing herself not to think about the argument from the day before.

"Everyone just sort yourselves out!" Malfoy snarled loudly, causing a bit of a lull in the excited conversations of the people crowding the door. "I'll get it."

He turned and went out the doors, following the direction that the cat had run, toward the courtyard exit. Everyone moved out of his way and Hermione ran past Blaise, through the students to get to the door. Behind her, the Third Year witch was still wailing like her favorite relative had just passed, and Hermione jogged a bit down the empty corridor. No one else followed her.

Hermione put her hands on her hips, standing with her feet shoulder-width apart and shoulders back. She felt like she was a Prefect or Head Girl again, like this was some mission that she was going to have to give the witch detention for. She couldn't see where Malfoy had gone so fast, as the hallway was empty and so was the parts of the courtyard that she could see.

Suddenly, Malfoy walked into view from the left side of the courtyard and walked back into the school at a very-human pace. He was cradling the chubby calico in his arms, one of his hands scratching the cat behind the ear as he walked. He wore his school uniform without his robes on: a sweater vest over a white button-up and a green-and-black tie. Once again, a feeling of Sixth Year nostalgia overcame her. His hair fell forward into his eyes as he looked down at it, and Hermione could see his lips moving.

Was he . . . Talking to it?

". . . Can't do that to your mum," she heard him cooing in a gentle, soft tone as he drew near. "She'll cry her eyes out in front of everyone and every Third Year wizard will cream their pants trying to give her their bloody kerchiefs."

Out of all the things that Malfoy could do that Hermione thought she would witness, talking to an animal like a parent to a child was not one of them.

He stopped in front of her, close enough for her to smell his cologne. "Why are you standing like that?"

"Standing like what?"

"Like a . . . Warrior, or something." His brows twitched. "Stop. It's bizarre."

His eyes traversed the length of her body, and it felt like he was burning her clothes with his gaze. The back of her neck prickled with nerves and she let her hands fall from her hips, relaxing her stance and averting her eyes in embarrassment.

"Thank you," she said, feeling uncomfortable and awkward. The last words she'd spoken to him had sounded pretty final, and it was weird to stand in front of him while he cuddled a cat. She reached for the cat, to take it from him, but he turned his torso away from her.

"Hey, hey," he said. "No. I'm keeping him."

Hermione frowned, confused. "You can't just keep a witch's familiar, Malfoy!"

"For the next few moments, I certainly can. I'll bring her back when I'm good and ready."

Hermione's jaw dropped and she watched him petting, scratching, and cooing at the cat for a good thirty seconds. It was so out of character for him that even her thoughts were speechless. The cat was purring loudly, nuzzling against Malfoy's jaw, who was smirking at Hermione.

"I know we're in a fight, but pet him."

They couldn't be in anything, especially a fight if they weren't actually together. "We're not in a -"

"Yes, we are. Pet him."

"No! And no, we're -"

"Pet the baby." He stepped closer, and she felt the warmth of the cat's body against her chest. She blinked rapidly again, having never thought Malfoy even knew the word 'baby.'

"Malfoy," she said with an incredulous laugh. "I don't want to -"

"So help me, witch, if you don't pet this furry child . . ."

She sighed and ran her fingers along the cat's side. Its head rolled to look at her, and Hermione couldn't help but smile faintly. She couldn't wait to see Crookshanks the following Monday when they went to her cottage before Denmark. Then, her cheeks flushed red.

If they were going to Denmark together, that is.

"You're secretly a sap, aren't you, Malfoy?" Hermione asked as she scratched her nails lightly under the happy, content cat's chin. It closed its eyes and purred louder.

"Don't look so surprised, Granger." He leaned down, and she felt the cat between them. His breath grazed her ear. "I was only ever a prat to you."

A whip of irritation lashed out within her and she took a step away from him. "You're still a prat."

"That's unfortunate for you," he said, dipping his head down to bump cheeks with the cat. "He doesn't seem to think so."

Before she could retort about not actually knowing the gender, the crying Third Year witch came out of the Great Hall flanked by two of her friends, and she went absolutely bonkers when she saw that Malfoy had caught her cat. Hermione watched with a frown and a raised brow as the girl showered Malfoy with compliments.

The witch handed her familiar to her friend and then turned to face Malfoy.

No.

"Thank you so much, Draco," the girl said, and it sounded like she was pushing her voice out with extra force. She put her hands behind her back and twisted the pad of her foot back and forth shyly. "I don't know what I would have done without you."

Hermione watched on in a mixture of indignation, horror, and astonishment.

Nonono.

Malfoy ran his hand through his hair, his eyes flitting between Hermione and the witch. His facial expression looked like he was trying very hard not to laugh, and his eyes danced with light. It only served to make Hermione feel worse.

She wished she could make him laugh.

"Try to keep your familiar back in your dorm," was all Malfoy said.

"Oh, definitely. Absolutely." The Third Year fluttered her lashes.

The Third Year glanced over her shoulder at her two friends, one of which was struggling with the cat's weight. Hermione thought of casting a charm to make the cat easier to carry, but then she pursed her lips when she saw how she was looking at Malfoy. All three of them looked like a trio of fangirls, and it was nutters.

The awkward silence began to stretch, though Hermione might have been imagining that it was awkward. Malfoy cleared his throat, still with the ghost of a smirk floating about his face, and then he stepped back as if he were about to turn and go.

"Wait! You forgot your reward, Malfoy," the Third Year said boldly, and Malfoy stopped.

Things seemed to go in slow motion as the witch took a step toward Malfoy - toward Hermione's wizard - and her life flashed before her eyes. This was not happening.

Absolutely not!

Hermione suddenly lurched forward and put her hand on Malfoy's chest, shoving him backward before the witch's lips could connect with his skin. He barely budged, but he looked at her with a surprised, amused expression, and the Third Year witch stumbled a few steps.

Hermione's hand trembled and she drew it back quickly. Malfoy looked amused. The Third Year was looking at her in surprise, a sneer curling her lip. It felt like a thick band was being pulled in three different directions between them, and she was sure she'd forgotten how to breathe. She was mortified.

Had she just gotten jealous over a teenage girl?

Luna walked out with their plates of food and came to stand with the small group, oblivious to the tension.

"I've got your food, Hermione. Oh, hello, Draco Malfoy. You're looking very furry."

Malfoy raised his eyebrow, looking so similar to his father that it was almost funny. "Furry?"

"You have kneazle fur all over your uniform."

"She's a cat," the Third Year owner of said feline said with a scoff. The way she looked at Luna bothered Hermione.

"And cats don't belong in the Great Hall," Hermione snapped, glowering at the girl. And your lips don't belong on my wizard.

Her response was to scowl and glare right back.

"Taking lunch elsewhere, then?" Malfoy started towards Hermione and Luna, everyone's eyes following him as he stopped to Hermione's left. Arms still crossed, he leaned in close, his eyes studying her face.

Hermione held her breath, her heart beating wildly. "Yes. With Luna."

"Well? Come on, then." Malfoy tapped his cheek. "Give us a kiss, love. I retrieved the cat. I'm owed recompense."

The Third Years all gasped, obviously annoyed, and Luna laughed softly. Hermione felt heat rising to her cheeks and her temper began to flare. He was such a tosser. She gritted her teeth and clenched her fists at her sides.

When she didn't move, he sighed dramatically, rolled his eyes, and turned his face to look at her. He was smirking, looking smug. Like he'd won something.

"Don't want to kiss me? That's because, darling, we are in a fight."

Prat! Why does he have to make a mockery of everything?!

Hermione's eyes flashed.

To prove that they certainly were not in a fight because they most definitely were not in a relationship, Hermione slapped her hands against his cheeks, curled her fingers a bit to grab hold, and yanked him down to her level. She smashed her lips against his, much to the younger students' audible irritation, and kissed him. She heard and felt the laugh rumbling in his chest as he uncrossed his arms and grabbed her by the hips, dragging her up onto the tips of her toes and lifting her an inch off the ground, like she weighed nothing. When he set her down and she pulled away, she was breathless.

Hermione turned to face the younger students, her hands on her hips. "Bring your familiar back to your common room, where she belongs. You're thirteen, for the love of Merlin - do not go around trying to kiss the cheeks of full grown adult wizards. And you!" She felt Malfoy's fingers tickling her lower back and she whirled on him, placing her palm against his chest and pushing him away. "Thank you for getting the cat, but stop playing around, and go to lunch."

"Have we made up, then?"

Hermione blinked, taken aback. She was about to start clapping her hands. "There's nothing to make up about. Because we are not in a fight. Because we are not in a relationship, Malfoy."

"So you're not angry with me?"

"I'm still angry with you!" she said, raising her voice.

". . . So we're in a fight."

"Malfoy!" she practically screeched, heedless of what a child she must look like in front of the younger students. Frustrated, she waved her hands, scowled, and walked away. She mentally kicked herself, over and over.

Why had she kissed him? Why could she never keep to her word when it came to standing up for herself with him? She'd stood up to all of her friends that year, and followed through. Why was it that she couldn't seem to stay strong when it came to him? All she could think about was how no matter how angry she was with him, she didn't want other witches kissing his cheek, and she didn't want him moving on in any direction other than towards her. She just wanted him to give her some time to figure everything out.

Well, at least she made him laugh.

"Cheers, Draco Malfoy. Good-bye, children," Luna sang as she drifted off after Hurricane Hermione. "Watch out for Nargles . . ."

Hermione heard the Third Year girls exclaiming in protest at Luna's words, and then their voices faded out. She glanced over her shoulder, but even Malfoy had gone back into the Great Hall.

Luna caught up to her as they rounded the corner to the corridor leading to their common room, and she handed the still-fuming Hermione her plate. Hermione sighed and thanked her.

"I'm so stupid, Luna."

"You're not stupid." Luna rested her head on Hermione's shoulder for a brief moment. "He can be rather chuffy."

Hermione couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled forth. "Yes, he can be rather annoying."

"But you fancy him."

"And it's complicated."

"But you're not in a fight."

"No."

"Because you're not in a relationship."

"Absolutely not. Not in a relationship, no."

"You were just upset, that's all."

"Yes. I never would have kissed him in front of those girls if I wasn't feeling so overwhelmed."

"Of course."

"But we're not in a fight and not in a relationship." Hermione repeated the words in her mind.

"You just don't want anyone else to kiss him."

"He's mine, isn't he?"

Hermione froze, her skin paling and she looked at Luna with wide eyes. Luna merely smiled at her in response.

"Yes. Yes, he is," she said, patting Hermione's cheek fondly. "Let's go fix your hair."

\\\

"I think you should try a fringe."

Hermione stared at herself in the mirror above the dresser. She was currently sitting down in a chair in the center of her dorm, her mess of a hairdo sticking out every which way as Luna picked through it with her fingers.

"A fringe? I had one when I was younger. Until Third Year. I'm not opposed to it."

"All right," Luna said, and then she reached for the scissors. "And I can do whatever I'd like?"

"Yes," Hermione said with a smile, sitting on her hands. Her heart beat a bit faster when she thought about what everyone would think when they saw her next. Malfoy was going to think she'd lost her mind, fighting with him for two days, kissing him in front of snotty teens, and then going to her dorm room and seemingly cutting all of her hair off.

Oh, well, she thought. Let him think it. I needed this, for me. I needed to do something for myself.

Luna began to work at her hair, cutting it dry and humming softly under her breath as she did so. Hermione watched as little curls wafted lazily to the ground and her smile grew. She hadn't been this excited about something since Voldemort died.

"So what are you going to do about your not-fight-not-relationship, Hermione?"

Hermione sighed heavily, blowing air out past her lips. "Oh, I'm not sure. I feel like every time I speak with him, he just finds a way to - to get under my skin. And it's hard to look at him and separate the real him from the Death Eater version of him. When he speaks, I just hear him calling me a Mudblood. When he touches me, I just remember what it was like when he - when he hurt me with the . . ." She couldn't even say it, couldn't even mention the whipping. "When he hurt me."

"It must have been terrifying," Luna said sadly. "Especially knowing that he was just acting, but the rest of them weren't."

"Did you know that Voldemort had plans to sell Muggle-borns to Pureblood families?"

To her surprise, Luna said she did. "When I was in the Malfoy family dungeons, I would sit by the bars and listen to their meetings in the Drawing Room. He talked about it a lot. Blood traitors, too."

"I'm glad he's dead." Hermione stared at the floor, feeling no remorse for what she'd just said. Her compassion extended to the Malfoys, and that was as far as it went.

"Me, too." Luna snipped at her hair in silence, fluffing up Hermione's curls as she went, and then she spoke again. "For what it's worth, I think he really cares about you. And after going through that together, I think he's not going anywhere. The question is, do you want him to stay?"

Hermione remained quiet. Did she want him to stay? If he wasn't a werewolf or whatever he was, would she really have stuck around for as long as she had? Would they even have gotten involved? He'd certainly shown interest in her before Crabbe ever scratched him, but she hadn't felt any sort of real feelings toward him until after.

Could she really be with someone who she'd been through such a traumatic experience with? Could she be with him when something as simple as him raising his arm reminded her of him lifting it to bring the whip down on her skin again and again? When he'd dragged her across the floor, hit her in the face, and bruised her rear end? Sometimes, she could still feel his fingers digging into the back of her neck. The rush of memories from that night was like a tidal wave, and she dug her fingernails into the cushion of the chair she sat upon.

That was why him calling her desire to help him mere "Gryffindor martyrdom" had hurt so badly. It took all of the trauma she'd experienced in that 4-hour period, hammered it until it was malleable, and then squeezed it down into a tiny, dismissive box. As if it meant nothing to him, what she'd done for him. She'd gone to that party for him. Yes, she'd wanted to find things out from Greyback, but that was so small compared to playing the role of a wizard's human pet all night, crawling on the floor and allowing herself to be degraded as though Voldemort had won the war.

But it wasn't like she could just quit him. Setting aside her feelings and their not-relationship, there was the issue of Fenrir Greyback. If he was planning something, which was highly likely, it seemed awfully selfish for her to completely check out of that situation when she, Malfoy, and their little Master-pet ruse was the best way to find information out that they might need. Kids or not, they were the wizarding world's best shot if Greyback had something up his sleeve.

"Oh - don't move!" Luna was crouching in front of her, trimming the new fringe into her hair with her tongue sticking out of the side of her mouth. "But yes, I can see why you would feel like you can't trust him. I think it would be hard for your mind to reconcile the dark side of him with his light side. Especially because of your past. And just because your mind recognizes why he had to hurt you, doesn't mean your body is able to recognize that."

"It feels like my body is what doesn't trust him. To my body, he's the person who gave it the bruises. My mind is like, not connecting with my body."

"Do you really think he can't be trusted?"

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, thinking. "I want to be able to trust him, but it feels very much like I'm being used." She lifted her hand and began counting off on her fingers. "I give him my blood so he stays alive, I stayed at the Manor that night because I was afraid they'd punish him if he didn't follow Greyback's orders to have me there, I have done so much research into his condition, and am actively doing more. I mean, I'm giving him so much of myself, and I feel like . . . Like he's not giving me anything in return."

Luna took a step back to look at Hermione's hair, and then started cutting at the right side of her head.

"Did he treat you well after the Revel?"

Hermione closed her eyes, hearing his voice in her head.

"It's all right, Hermione."

"Cry. It's okay to."

"I tried. So fucking hard."

"I promise, I tried."

"He did," she whispered. "He took care of me. He always does. I don't know what's wrong with me, why I'm so angry. I don't know why I can't trust him."

Across the room, Pakatugg poked his head out from the lower drawer of the dresser, swathed in the fabric of the robes she stole from Malfoy months ago. His tail twitched, and then he hopped out of the drawer and scurried to his little water dish.

Hermione smiled, feeling a tiny sense of relief. It felt nice to finally have someone to talk to about all of this, someone who wasn't judgmental and who just wanted her to be happy.

"Maybe the reason you can't trust him isn't because he's done anything wrong," Luna said as her fingers combed through Hermione's curls from behind her. "Maybe it's because you can't trust yourself around him."

Hermione turned to look at her, staring at her in surprise. Luna offered her a gentle smile.

"He changes you into someone new," she said. "And it scares you. So you're self-sabotaging because you want to protect yourself. The Revel made it worse because it brought you two closer together, but instead of working through it together, your fear is controlling you and pulling you away from him. What's more, is that I think he knows that. He knows you're isolating yourself from him, but because he cares about you, he's giving you the space you need to heal. He's putting you first even though he's hurting, too. He's not using you, Hermione. He's loving you."

With Malfoy, Hermione felt like she was two halves of a whole - weak and strong - and it didn't matter which one she was because he accepted both sides. He didn't want her to give him her blood, she just kept offering it and he was powerless to resist. He didn't want her at the Revel. In fact, he tried multiple times to send her home, but she wanted to be there for him. She chose to stay and fight against Greyback with him, and protect him from what Greyback would do if she wasn't there. He tried to challenge Greyback, tried with all of his might because he put her first and their ruse second, all because he didn't want her to get hurt.

"Then why do you fight for her as though she's your mate?!"

"Because she's mine."

When Hermione told Draco she wanted to fill him up, it wasn't because his cliffside castle was empty. It was because he'd filled her own castle so full of pieces of his heart that she wanted to give some of hers in return. She wanted to give him pieces of her heart so he could know how it felt to be cared for.

She wasn't allowing herself to be used at all. She was falling for him.

Her eyes filled with tears.

"I'm going to have to figure this out sooner or later, Luna. I don't want to hurt him."

Luna nodded, smiling softly, and then she came to stand in front of her. "I have a feeling he's a very patient wizard."

"I hope so." Hermione lowered her head and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. She thought back to the last few arguments they'd had, to the way she'd screamed at him, and she felt guilty. No matter how many times she blew up on him in ways she'd never ever blown up on anyone, he just kept coming back to check on her. He kept coming back to see if she was still angry, and he'd even told her that if she were struggling, that he wanted to help her through it.

She just didn't know how to let him help her when she was so used to helping everyone else

"Ready to see your new look?"

Hermione's head snapped up to see Luna grinning down at her. She scrambled to her feet and ran to the mirror, a gasp falling from her lips.

"Luna! I love it! It looks amazing," Hermione gushed, turning every which way in the mirror and using her hands to fluff up the curls herself.

Luna had taken the shaggy disaster that the 1:00AM-panic-attacked-Hermione had created, and she'd turned it into something that could actually represent positive change instead of a meltdown. She'd cut it to about two inches past her chin, but with a lot of long layers and in a way that caressed her heart-shaped face. Hermione now had a fringe that fell into her eyes, shielding her eyebrows from view and bringing attention to her high cheekbones. A couple of curls framed her face on either side, hanging a bit longer than the rest of her hair and grazing her collarbones. It was adorable, for lack of a more eloquent word, and when Hermione whipped her head from side to side in a playful manner, the soft, shiny curls bounced and flew about.

This was freedom. She felt like a completely new person. She felt like she was ready to start thinking more deeply about healing and leave the wallowing behind with every strand of hair that she'd cut off. Things weren't perfect between her and Malfoy, but looking at herself now, she felt determined to at least put in the effort. They were definitely going to need to have a huge talk.

"Just one last thing," Luna said, and she flounced over to Hermione's bedside table. She plucked the blue flower that she'd given Hermione the month before from the tabletop, took her wand out of her back pocket, and then duplicated it. Then, she came back to Hermione and placed a flower in her hair on either side of her forehead, near her temples. She cast a sticking charm on them both, and then danced a small, happy jig.

The flowers began to glow.

Hermione spun to face her and crushed her against her body in a hug. Luna embraced her in return and the two girls stood there together for a long, drawn-out moment.

"Thank you, Luna . . ."

For never turning against me, when everyone else tossed me aside.

For always being there for me when I need you.

For showing me how to be myself, no matter what.

For showing me how to be loved.

For being my friend.

". . . For everything."

\\\

Hermione practically skipped to Advanced Potions, her spirits as high as the moon and her face lit up from within. She'd already gotten countless compliments on her new hairstyle, just on the walk from the common room, and she felt like it was the best decision she'd ever made. Before she'd left the room, she'd changed into her white button-up, black uniform vest and Gryffindor tie, her plaid pleated miniskirt, and her opaque black tights, so she was feeling especially good. Cute outfit, even cuter hairstyle, and wearing a smile.

She felt good.

Harry spotted her as he was coming from the opposite direction, and they met at the door to the class. His jaw dropped and he grinned from ear to ear.

"Hermione, wow! You look great!" He gave her a one-armed hug. "I'm shocked. Your hair was practically to your bum."

"Thank you," she said brightly, hugging him back. He didn't know about the Revel, about her traumas, but that was okay. The haircut was for herself. "I just felt the need for a change. I feel much more like myself now."

"Well you look more you than I've ever seen you look," he said with another friendly smile. "You're glowing. Literally. Your flower accessories glow."

"Aw, Harry, thank you," she said. "Anyway, how was your weekend?"

His smile faltered. "It was all right. Half and half. Ginny wrote to me and told me she still loves me. She wants to get back together, and she wants to talk at Christmas."

"What did you say?" Hermione asked curiously, unable to stop herself from smiling again. She felt like she might never stop smiling. Who knew a haircut could be so powerful?

"I still love her, Hermione," Harry said, leaning back against the wall outside the classroom.

Students were filtering in from the end of the corridor, some greeting the two on their way in, some complimenting Hermione. With each person that entered, Hermione felt her stomach fluttering more and more with nervousness. Any moment, Malfoy would come strolling up. He had no way of knowing what she and Luna had discussed, but she felt like he was going to be able to see inside of her and know everything they had said. He had the frightening ability to look into her soul with just his smoldering silver eyes, and pin her down with his gaze.

Would he like her hair?

"This seems like it should be a happy occasion," Hermione said, peering up at Harry. "So why do you look so glum?"

Harry was silent for a moment and he studied her face as though looking for something. "I was already seeing someone. Someone I really fancied. But I love Ginny. I want to be with her. So I . . . I broke things off. She was really devastated. There were a lot of tears."

"You had a girlfriend?" Hermione was alarmed. Had they really grown so far apart this year that she hadn't known he had a witch? She wondered who it was and why he'd kept it hidden from everyone, from her. Perhaps it was just because of Ginny.

"No, it was casual," Harry said, rubbing the back of his neck. "She wanted it to be casual. So I didn't let myself get in too deep. I guess she was going against her own advice."

"I'm so sorry, Harry."

"It's for the best, 'Mione," he said, patting her on the shoulder. "Me dating her would be like you dating Malfoy. Weird on so many levels."

Hermione watched him turn and walk into the classroom. She sighed and shook her head.

Harry, you have no idea.

As Hermione walked into the nearly-full class, she heard someone call her name from down the corridor. She tried to lean back to look at who it was but went too far and nearly fell over. She grabbed onto the edge of a table sitting near the entrance of the class, stacked with textbooks for the Second Year students, and accidentally pulled the whole thing down. Books went spilling all over the floor and she sighed, hurrying to pick them up before Professor Slughorn noticed.

By the time she stood, she figured she may as well go put her things down. Whoever called her name would be in class in seconds, anyway. She walked to where Harry and Ron sat and set her bag and textbook on the table beside them. Ron looked up and his eyes went wide.

"Blimey, Hermione, you cut your hair off?"

Hermione grinned. "Have you got a problem with it, Ronald? Because Luna's the one that helped me with it."

Ron laughed and shook his head. "No, no. I think it looks good, don't worry. Why'd you decide to cut it?"

"Just . . . Time to make some good choices." Hermione pulled out her chair, still smiling. Then, she threw an absent look towards the door and saw that there was still a Second Year textbook on the floor underneath one of the other tables. She'd missed it.

Hermione walked back over to the spot and crouched down, reaching underneath the table for the textbook. As she did, a number of sets of feet entered the class and went to their seats, and then she put the book on the table. She started back to her place, seeing that Blaise and Malfoy were at their usual back-of-the-room seats.

"What the fuck, Granger?!"

Blaise's deep baritone barking at her caused not only her, but almost the entire class' eyes to land on him. Harry and Ron exchanged glances and Harry, ever the protective one, started to stand up. Malfoy had his arms crossed over his chest as he tipped his chair back and looked at Blaise with a confused expression. Hermione clutched a hand to her heart, feeling the way it beat wildly in her chest.

"What?" she cried, her legs trembling. "What's wrong?"

Blaise had whirled around in his chair, one hand on the back of it and one flat on the table. He slammed his hand down once.

"Youlooksofuckingcute!" he shouted, grinning like an excited madman. "Your hair! I mean, what?!"

Hermione blinked and then burst out laughing. Now that was a reaction. She held her hands over her aching abdomen as she laughed hard enough to steal the breath out of her own lungs. Tears of mirth began to cloud her eyes and, still with one hand on her stomach, she used the other hand to wipe them. She supposed she shouldn't have expected any less of a reaction from Blaise Zabini.

"Honestly," she spluttered between laughs, and it was all she managed to get out. "Honestly, Blaise."

"It does look really cute, Granger," said one of the Seventh Year girls with a polite smile. "Your new hairstyle. I really love the fringe!"

"Thank you," Hermione said between laughs.

Malfoy turned fully to regard her and through her uncontrollable giggling, she saw his eyes bouncing in small distances across the planes of her face and down her luscious curls. Hermione held the back of her hand over her mouth as the peals of laughter kept coming, and she returned Malfoy's gaze, wondering what he thought and what his reaction would be. She struggled to keep herself from fidgeting, feeling a bit like she was on display, or performing. As the amusement subsided, she lowered her hand and smiled at Malfoy. A real smile. One to let him know that soon, they would work everything out.

His eyes narrowed for a moment, suspicion filling them, and then he looked away for a second. When he locked eyes with her again, he gave her a nod. The corner of his mouth twitched upward in the hint of a half-smile, and Hermione felt her heart skip a beat.

He'd never given her that look before.

"Yes, Potions are very humorous sometimes, Miss Granger." Professor Slughorn moved into the classroom behind her, and she stepped aside. He headed to the front. "I apologize for my tardiness, students. It appears that someone slipped a love potion into the apple juice for dinner, and I had to rectify that before we all found ourselves hopelessly in love with a Fourth Year prankster."

Hermione hurried back to her seat, grabbing onto Harry's sleeve and yanking him to sit down, too. He was so overbearing sometimes. He shot Blaise one last glare, and Hermione smacked him on the upper arm.

"Blaise is my friend, Harry," she hissed. "Stoppit."

Harry stuck his tongue out at her, causing her to nearly pass out from stifling her laughter, and then they faced the front.

It was very difficult not to turn around and sneak glances at Malfoy.

After a long class period of Slughorn doing nothing but lecturing about the possibility that the Fountain of Youth was just a type of potion, Hermione found herself whisked out the door by Harry and Ron before she could stop to talk to Malfoy and Blaise. They were overly enthusiastic about roast beef night, and the news Slughorn had given about the love potion had them practically stumbling over their own feet to get the three of them down to the Great Hall.

She tried not to worry too much. There would be plenty of time to talk to Malfoy. She just felt antsy because every moment that went by of them not hashing things out, he would think she hated him and really did want him to starve.

"He said he fixed the issue," Hermione grumbled when they were on an upward moving staircase. "So we're rushing for nothing."

"Hermione," Harry scoffed. "This is Slughorn we're talking about."

"Yeah, I almost died in his office because he was a right pillock," Ron complained. "He probably used a hate potion to cancel out the love potion."

Harry threw his head back and laughed, hitting Hermione on the arm with the back of his hand. "Could you imagine? You drink a cup of juice and suddenly you hate Malfoy so much that you lunge across the table with a steak knife. Could you? 'Mione? Hermione, could you im-"

"Yes, Harry!" Hermione said, laughing incredulously. "I can imagine."

Outside the Great Hall, Hermione spotted Bill talking to a few younger students by the door. She thought of the book that she'd bought, and the knowledge she'd gleaned about Voldemort. He was the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, but he'd been a curse-breaker for years before that. Demons and demonic activity could be something he'd encountered at some point. She had yet to delve into the book she bought, but it couldn't hurt to throw some general questions out to him and ask.

"I'll see you guys in there," she said, walking backwards and jabbing her thumb over her shoulder towards Bill. "I have to speak to Bill."

"All right, Hermione," Harry said.

"Tell him I said he's a tosser!" Ron called, and then he and Harry laughed their way into the Great Hall.

Hermione hid a smile and shook her head. She approached the elder Weasley, who finished up his conversation and then greeted Hermione boisterously.

"Hey, Hermione!" He crossed his arms. "How are you? Your hair looks quite nice."

"Thank you, Bill," she said, hugging her arms tightly around her textbook. "Do you have time to talk? I have a few questions about a rather interesting topic."

"Oh?" He raised his eyebrows. "But yes, I always have time for you."

"Are you sure? It's roast beef night," Hermione said, unable to stop herself from giggling. She felt like she'd been laughing and grinning for hours. It was likely the best day she'd had all year.

He shook his head and laughed. "Yeah, I saw Ron and Harry running in there like a ghost was on their heels. What did you need to speak about?"

"Well . . ." She trailed off, looking around. There were still a lot of students coming down for dinner and she didn't want anyone overhearing what they were discussing. She gestured to the stairs. "Can we have a sit?"

"Sure," he said, and the two of them went to sit down on the third step up from the bottom.

"All right, so . . ." She huffed. "I don't exactly know how taboo this is, or if I could get in trouble for asking this sort of thing, but . . ."

He looked concerned. "What is it?"

Hermione sighed and grimaced. "Demons. What do you know about them?"

He blinked, visibly taken aback. "Demons? Hermione, that's . . . Why would you have interest in that?"

"Just for personal research," she said, unable to think of a good lie. "I find them fascinating in Muggle film and literature, and wanted to know what the wizarding world thinks of them."

He rested his arms on his knees, shaking his head slowly. "Well, I'm no expert myself. Demonology is banned at Hogwarts, and anything related to it is considered dangerous. The kinds of texts that you'd be able to find for study would come from bookstores outside of the Ministry's reach."

"That's what I figured. Could you tell me what you do know?"

"I can," he said, and then he flashed a teasing smile. "As long as you promise it's not because you're going to try and summon one."

"Oh, Merlin, no. I'm just studying." Hermione kept her eyes on his, hoping he didn't see through the lie. She wasn't planning on summoning one, but she did have intentions of detecting one if it was residing in Malfoy. She knew there had to be a spell somewhere, but she needed to get whatever information she could before she left Hogwarts to do that.

"All right, well - and again, I don't know much, but . . . Well, when I worked at Gringotts, there was a goblin there who used to talk about everyone and everything. Like a gossip, you know. He always seemed to know everything. And he was nutters, of course." He laughed.

"Of course," Hermione said, wrinkling her nose playfully.

Bill continued, "So, one day there's an eclipse. I took my lunch break outside so I could kind-of see it. Or at least, see what it looked like outside. He was outside, too, and when I came up, he just started talking to me. He says, 'the last time I was outside in an eclipse, I was opening a portal to Hell.' And I'm, of course, confused. Because it sounds absurd."

Hermione shared a disbelieving look with him. "That sounds a bit . . ."

"Barmy? I know. I told him so, and he seemed really offended. So I asked him what he was doing opening any portals at all, and how because that's technically sorcery, which is illegal. At this point, I didn't believe what he was saying was true. But he seemed affronted again and he told me that Hell is just a human term for it, and that it's a place like any other, the door is just closed. He said on certain nights, 'places align, and doors open.'"

Hermione listened, her interest growing. Sorcery was indeed illegal, it being a type of magic that went beyond the Dark Arts. It dealt with things unknown, such as time travel, death, and space. Demonology fit under that category. It also didn't require a wand, and only required the magical core of the user. Which meant that a goblin could indeed perform it, but the question was whether or not that particular goblin was talking about something real or false.

"What did he say next?"

"Well, you can imagine what I was thinking, and that was that he was falsifying everything. But I was interested to see what he'd crafted. So I asked him if he went in. He said that was impossible."

Hermione's brow furrowed. "How come?"

"He said, 'we don't go in. They come out.'"

Bill paused then, looking thoughtful as he rubbed his chin, and Hermione ignored the uneasy feeling she had in her gut. Seven simple words and yet they raised so many questions. Where did this portal truly lead? Who or what came out? Why couldn't anyone go inside?

"You know, now that I'm thinking about it, there was something I came across when I was going through the Defense Against the Darks Arts classroom at the start of the year. There's a bit of a miniature Library for the professors in the back office. Don't let me forget; I'll come back to it."

"All right. So what happened after he said what he said?"

Bill adjusted his position so he was leaning back on his hands. "I asked him who comes out, obviously, because that was definitely unsettling to hear when the sky was red. He said that they have no species, just names. And he said that whatever he saw, he couldn't remember because, 'their eldritch sight' was so mind-boggling that all he remembered was their long mouths."

A bit of a chill ran down Hermione's spine as her mind conjured up an image of something creepy with a mouth that fell open to the center of its chest. "Long mouths?"

Bill held his hands wide and shook his head. "I haven't the slightest clue, Hermione. I asked him what he meant, too, but he just told me to enjoy the rest of my break, and went back inside. It's stuck with me for all these years. But I think it's just a spooky tale. He was a gossip, after all."

She hadn't learned much but, she did know one thing was possible. That "Hell", or whatever place where demons existed, had a door. A door that could be opened. If what the goblin said was true, could Voldemort have summoned a demon and just forgotten? Perhaps had his memories of it wiped, like the goblin had? It wasn't anything to go on, but it was something to tuck away for later. When she got the chance to go to the Library, she was going to take another look at portals and interdimensional travel. After all, the Seelie and Unseelie Courts existed through portals. Who was to say "Hell" wasn't just another dimension?

If it did have a door, how many others had managed to open it?

"So, what was it that you came across earlier?" Hermione asked, trying to banish the terrifying image her mind was projecting of monsters with foot-long teeth to fill their equally elongated mouths.

"Ah, yes! It was a book that was left behind by an earlier professor; I'm not sure who. I still have it, and I can lend it to you tomorrow. But it's the diary of a medieval sorcerer Gamelin McGriogar. He apparently summoned a demon. I skimmed it, so I don't know details, but yes, I can certainly lend it to you."

Hermione frowned. Why did that name sound so familiar? She racked her brain, trying to figure out where she'd heard it or learned it before . . .

The Library! With Malfoy! The book, and Haggerty Prim.

I need that diary.

"Yes," she said enthusiastically. "Yes, I definitely would love to borrow that book. Tomorrow in class, I'll get it from you."

"All right," he said, and then he gave her a semi-serious look. "Promise me again you're not doing any summoning or door opening."

She smiled and shook her head, and then glanced to her right. She was surprised to see Malfoy wandering out of the Great Hall. She wondered briefly how they were going to navigate his need for blood tonight, and then she paused.

The full moon was drawing nearer. It would be nice to have one less thing to worry about in Denmark, if they went. They had 5 more days until Winter holiday, and then they had 14 days of the break. After Christmas, 3 days until the full moon cycle started. Unless there was some way to avoid it, New Year's might have a somber air.

"Bill, can I ask you for a favor?"

This was going to be her biggest lie yet, and she felt guilty, but after the agony Malfoy went through the night of the Revel, it was necessary.

"Absolutely!"

"Do you have any Wolfsbane Potion that I could have?"

His smile faltered. "What?"

Hermione forced herself not to turn and glance at Malfoy, not wanting to give him away. She wondered if he'd walked away or was lingering. If it were the latter, he'd know she was asking for the potion, and she had a feeling he would be irritated with her. But it was clear as of last month that he didn't have any, and just in case he still hadn't bought any, she wanted to be prepared to help. Hermione always liked to be fully prepared when possible.

"I am planning to study potions in-depth this year, and I have heard that Wolfsbane Potion can be broken down in certain ways and used to create new potions. I wanted to try, but I don't think I'll be able to get to Diagon Alley for awhile." She spoke fast, her words rushing forth like a waterfall.

There was a bit of silence while he searched her eyes, and then he said, "All right, if it's for study. I'm not supposed to do it, though, so you can't tell anyone."

"Yes, Bill, of course. Can I get it tomorrow after class with the diary? I have detention with Slughorn - don't ask - but if we hurry, I can make it on time." She quickly looked over her shoulder and stretched her arms up to try and make it look nonchalant. Malfoy was gone.

Bill nodded, and then abruptly stood up. He adjusted the lapels of his brown blazer and then held out a hand to help her to her feet. She started to pull her hand away, but he gripped it tighter, drawing her eyes up to his with concern.

"Hermione, you wouldn't lie to me, would you?"

Hermione immediately felt the back of her neck beginning to sweat. She already had. The whole conversation was based upon a lie. Remorse flooded her body, but she kept her face passive.

"No, Bill, I wouldn't."

He lowered his chin and looked directly into her eyes, still keeping a tight hold on her hand. "Is the Wolfsbane for Draco Malfoy?"

Oh, shite. "What? Merlin, no. What makes you think that?" Then, as seasoning, she added, "We're barely acquaintances."

"Acquaintances, hm?"

Oh, shite. Oh, shite. Oh, shite. Hermione's pores were leaking with sweat. She pulled at her hand and it was so clammy it slipped right out of his grasp. She wiped it against the fabric of her skirt in a surreptitious movement.

"The potion is for me, for study," she said, guilt drying her tongue and throat. "I promise."

He gazed at her for a moment longer, a moment during which Hermione thought she might faint from holding her breath and then he smiled.

"I believe you, then." He patted her upper arm once. "I'll see you in there."

He left to go into the Great Hall, and Hermione let her breath out in a rush. Her entire body trembling, she tried to steady the vibrations in her lungs, but the panic was only rising by the second. She cursed herself. An anxiety attack was not what she needed right now, but no matter how hard she tried to sort herself out, the fear and shame at having lied so many times to someone who was like family made her feel worse. She deserved to feel the panic.

Alone on the stairs, Hermione tangled her fingers in her neck-length curls and fought back tears. She took several choking gasps.

Why had she lied? She shouldn't have even initiated the conversation. She should have just figured out another way. Even though the diary of MacGriogair was going to be an immense help, it felt like it wasn't worth lying to her friends unnecessarily. She was a terrible person. She had become a terrible person.

Filth.

She heard their voices in her head at once: Gareth, Enicto, Cecilia, Demetri, Greyback.

Malfoy.

Filthy Mudblood.

She felt the dam threatening to break, to release her torrential emotions like the rain that was currently roaring outside, and she collapsed on the marble floor by the stairs. She couldn't breathe. Every positive emotion she'd felt all day was washed away. Inside her mind, she saw the Drawing Room floor littered with body parts. Blood soaking the carpet. The severed head.

How could she think she was okay? She wasn't okay.

"Hermione Granger!"

Hermione's panic levels rose and she whirled around, landing on her rump as she turned to face two young boys. They looked like First or Second Years, and she didn't recognize them at all. She hurried to wipe her eyes, but she continued to take hitched, panicked breaths.

"Are you all right?" One of the boys fell to his knees beside her. "Rory, use the coin!"

The boy who remained standing began to frantically search his pockets. Hermione stared at both of them, wondering what they were talking about. She pulled her knees to her chest. She buried her face in them, trying to focus on steadying her breathing and closing her eyes against the dizzying way her vision swam. Her heart felt like someone was squeezing it in their hands and she felt stupid. Having a panic attack because she lied?

She deserved this.

"Did you call him? Is he coming?" The boy on the floor inched closer to Hermione.

"I think so. I tapped my wand on it," Rory said.

"Herm - Miss Granger - it's all right," said the other boy, and she felt a small hand patting her lightly on the back. "We called for Draco Malfoy. He's gonna come; you'll see."

Hermione's head snapped up and she looked at him, then up at Rory. She didn't want to see Malfoy right now. Not when she was like this, not when she was vulnerable. She wanted to mend things, not feel terrified of him. She scrambled to her feet and started to back away from them, her blood rising again.

"I can't," was all she managed to choke out, and then she turned around and walked toward the entrance of the castle. She needed air. She couldn't breathe.

She felt like she was dying.

Get out of my head, she thought miserably, desperate to push the memories of the Revel away. Desperate to shove the werewolves out and Greyback out and the Death Eaters out. Desperate to tear Malfoy in two so she could push the Death Eater version of him away and wrap herself in the one that Luna said cared for her. How could a few white lies to Bill have caused this? She felt overdramatic and stupid. So, so stupid.

"Hermione, wait!" came Rory's voice from behind her. "Koichi, we have to stop her! Wait!"

Hearing their footsteps behind her only made things worse. She quickened her pace, her hands shivering violently, and she walked straight out into the rain in a near-daze. The moment the water began to soak her heated skin, she felt the tears begin to come with zeal. She buried her face in her hands and wept, hoping that the thickness of the rain and the darkness of the night would shield her from view. She hoped Malfoy didn't come.

She wasn't okay. A haircut didn't erase trauma. A good day didn't suddenly make the bad days go away. It was there when she closed her eyes and it was there when she opened them again, and he was there in every part of her body. He'd wrapped himself around every damn vein, owning all of her, and she was terrified of him. Of feeling something more than fancy for a person who had the power to destroy her.

She'd thought Malfoy's castle was crumbling, but in reality, it was her own. Hers was decrepit, the stones rotting from within as though they were alive and the rooms sagging down with the weight of her emotions. She wasn't angry with Malfoy, and she never had been angry with him. She'd been angry with herself for being foolish, as usual, and making decisions that put him in the position to hurt her. It was a vicious circle, him hurting her, her forcing his hand, him hurting her again.

The gravity of the Revel bore down on her shoulders and she doubled over, nauseous from the onslaught of memories.

He tossed back his head, gave a feline hiss, and sank his fangs into her neck.

It was all she could do to clamp her thighs around his hand to stop it from moving upward.

Hermione felt a scream ripping its way out of her throat unbidden as Malfoy hit her so hard she nearly blacked out.

"Mudblood, I want you to strip down so we can all see that dirty, muddy body."

"Spread your legs, muddy, and sit on your hands."

"Please don't make me."

"You look at me. You don't belong to anyone else but me."

Crack. Crack. Crack.

"I do believe you've finally broken her."

"Granger."

His voice twisted through the air toward her and she whipped around. He was standing in the rain with her, like he had the night after she was attacked by Theo, only this time she didn't feel safe. She stumbled backward, her body completely soaked through to the bone.

"S-Stay away," she said, holding one hand to her chest and stretching the other one out as if to push him back. "Please."

He pushed his hair back and stayed where he was, just outside the castle entrance. "Come back inside. We can talk, yeah?"

Hermione couldn't think clearly. She was shaking, and not from the cold temperature and the rain. She turned around, on instinct, and walked further out into the courtyard. She hugged herself, blinking raindrops off of her lashes and clenching her teeth against the trembling in her body.

Suddenly, he was in front of her. The fear rocketed through her body and she staggered back again, drawing her wand.

How had a simple conversation with Bill turned into this?

Malfoy held his hands up, squinting at her slightly through the rain.

"Let's go inside," he said slowly. "And we will talk."

"I don't want to talk to you!" she cried. "I just want you to leave me alone!"

"No. I have left you alone." He took a step toward her, hands still up, and his eyes darted down to her wand. "It's time for us to talk."

"I don't want to talk. I don't want to talk," she whispered, a shudder running through her body. She nearly dropped her wand. She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the sting of the whip on her skin.

"Granger, stop this," he said, and his voice had taken on a gentle tone. He took another step toward her. "Stop this. We can't keep doing this."

Her grip on her wand faltered and her lower lip trembled. His eyes were so sincere.

"You don't understand," she whispered and then again, louder and with tear-choked emotion, "You don't understand! I can't get it out of my head. I can't get you out of my head!"

She saw when his temper snapped, saw it in his eyes.

"Why are you acting like you're the only person who was there? I was there, too, Granger!" He dropped his hands and then lifted one to point at her. "I told you to leave. I told you to go anywhere else but there. But you insisted."

It's all my fault. "Stop . . ."

"No! You're a selfish little girl, do you know that?" He advanced on her, eyes blazing and face contorted with anger. "You've not stopped to ask me how I felt, have you? You think I can sleep at night, remembering what it felt like to strike you? To beat you? To treat you like an animal? You think you're the only one with nightmares?"

His words felt like hammers. Her voice was a whisper between the raindrops. "Please stop."

I know. It's my fault.

"You were so strong that night, and now you're cowering before me like a little mouse," he spat. "You're letting it consume you. You're letting it stay in your bloody head." He pressed a finger to his temple. "You're inviting them in and you're not letting them go."

It's your fault. It's your fault.

"Malfoy, stop!" she suddenly shouted, feeling her indignation filling her body. The familiar anger flowed through her body, chasing away the panic and turning it to fire, and she stood to her full height. "The only person I'm inviting into my head is you! And you won't leave. You're in there, pushing me down. Holding me there. I can't get them out of my head because I can't get you out of it!"

Malfoy cursed under his breath and turned his face away. He put one hand on his hip and used the other to get his wet hair out of his eyes again. Hermione scowled and turned, walking across the courtyard towards the pillars. She just needed to get some air, and there wasn't enough. She turned before she got there, and he was right behind her. She started to speak again, but he bared his teeth in a snarl.

"I'm supposed to be the weak one!"

The two of them stood there, both panting heavily for breath. Hermione held her wand in a vice like grip, and raindrops rolled down her face. Malfoy stared down at her, his anger quickly morphing to his own panic. An emotion she had never seen on his face before appeared there, twisting it in a way that made her heart pound hard. He held his hands up before him, as if they had answers there, and he began to speak in a rush.

"I'm the coward. I'm the one who hurts other people to make myself bigger. I'm the one who made the mistakes, Granger. I'm the one who - I didn't - I failed. I didn't try hard enough. I never do. I fail, again and again and a-fucking-gain, I fail at everything I do. And now you're angry with me. I get it. I fucking get it, but we were both there. Pushing me to the ends of the Earth to get away from me isn't going to make you forget that it happened!"

Hermione turned away in frustration, taking a deep breath, tilting her face up to the rain. She shoved her wand up into her wrist holster. Then, she whirled on him. She had to get this out. They had to get the words out into the air. They had to work through this.

"When this all started, you sat on my bed and you promised me - you promised me - do not interrupt me, Draco! You promised me consent, safety, and security." She lifted her hands and began to count on her fingers. "Consent. Safety. Security. That's all I asked."

"I tried to get you to leave!" He threw his hands out at his sides.

"You should have forced me!"

"So, what? We're just passing the Blame Bludger back and forth? It's your fault, it's my fault - who the fuck cares? Neither of us wanted to be there. But we were, and it happened. It happened, and shoving each other to opposite ends of the Pitch isn't going to fix anything."

"I don't want anything to be fixed!"

"Then what the fuck do you want?" he screamed, roaring so loudly that she flinched.

Hermione stood there for a moment, soaking wet and miserable, and she knew. This was it. This was the defining moment. She had to say it all. Everything. Every little thing she'd been hanging on to since she spoke for his father. She had to stand up for herself and be the Hermione she'd always been. The one who stood up to her friends countless times. The one who Bellatrix Lestrange couldn't break.

"I'll tell you what I want," she said, loud enough to be heard over the rain, even though she knew he could hear everything. "I want to feel like I matter to you. I want to feel like you're not using me, and I want to feel appreciated. I want to be able to sleep at night without dreaming about you hurting me. And, Merlin - I want our castles to stop falling apart, because we're tearing one another's walls down. I want it all to be worth it. But most of all, I want you to tell me the truth."

Silence stretched on as his eyes searched hers, the look in them intensifying by the second. He looked like he was warring with himself. Like his walls were about to fall and disintegrate. Like the Earth had finally quaked and his cliff was collapsing. Like the real Draco was about to burst forth.

"He changes you into someone new, and it scares you. So you're self-sabotaging because you want to protect yourself."

Draco's castle fell.

"I'm sorry, okay?" he shouted, throwing his hands up and letting them fall to his sides in fists. "I'm fucking sorry I can't be the person you want me to be. I'm fucking sorry that I used you and put you in danger and hurt you. But I'm not . . . Strong. I'm not strong like you. I'm the son of a monster." He lifted his arm and looked down at the sopping wet sleeve. It was see-through. Hermione could see his Dark Mark. "I'm a monster."

There was another silence, and Hermione felt her heart beating faster and faster. She was about to speak, but he suddenly growled loudly in frustration.

"And I'm terrified, all right? I'm terrified of what I'm becoming, what I am, and what I do. I'm terrified that I'm going to drink too much and drain you. I'm terrified that I'll turn one full moon, and the wolf will devour you. I'm terrified they're all going to show up here, show up in our dorms, and tear you apart. I'm terrified they're going to come after you when I'm not around. I'm terrified of Greyback, do you understand that? I'm scared that he's going to use his power as alpha to make me kill you."

His voice broke and his eyes seemed to shimmer through the rain, the light from the castle illuminating the right side of his face faintly. "I didn't want to hurt you. It was the last thing I wanted. And I hate myself for it. But I don't - I do not hate you. I don't fucking hate you, and I am begging you to stop being angry with me so I can be near you again."

Hermione felt a strange feeling jolt all the way through her and her eyes widened in stages as realization dawned.

"Wh-What?"

"Fuck. I need to be near you again. Please." His lips trembled and he looked away. Rain continued to cascade from the sky, but Hermione couldn't tell if it was water on his face or tears. "Please stop being angry with me, Hermione. I can't fucking take it. I can't do this alone."

"He's not using you, Hermione."

Hermione's entire body began to tremble again. She had more to say. She had more to say, and she had to say it before she fell apart.

He had to know.

"I am angry with you. I'm angry because I give things up to you that I would never give to anyone else. I'm angry because you have the power to make me do whatever you want with the right words. I'm angry because I let you have that power. And I'm so, so angry with you for agreeing to the dinner in the first place. I'm so angry with you for making me fear you. I'm so angry with you for making me . . . Making me need you."

"He's loving you."

As the words fell from her lips, she felt the emotions rising up. The things she'd been thinking about all day crashed forward and she dissolved into gut-wrenching sobs. His eyes snapped to hers and widened, and she held her stomach as the raindrops mingled with her tears.

"I can't lose you, Draco. I can't lose you."

One blink, and then her back was against the nearest pillar. His lips were upon hers, kissing her, consuming her. Setting her on fire and stoking it higher and higher until she broke the kiss to gasp for breath.

His lips moved along her jaw and down the side of her throat, frenzied and heavy, wet from the rain. She threw her arms around his neck, barely registering that his hands were roaming all over her body. She cried out as his tongue laved her pulse point and then tasted her collarbone. She felt like she was being tossed into a boiling hot cauldron, stirred and spun around and around, given no chance to breathe. She couldn't think. She couldn't think.

She'd never felt so wanted.

She began to cry again, her body wracked with sobs, and he pulled back to gaze down at her with a passion in his eyes she didn't fully understand.

"You're falling apart," he said.

She started to shake her head, to tell him that it didn't matter because it was all her fault. The Revel, the feedings, everything. Every argument, every friendship he'd lost. It was all her fault and if anyone was weak, it was her. She was weak for not being able to see that she was the problem. She was the one who was tearing the walls of her own castle down, leaving not only her heart exposed to the elements, but the pieces of his that she'd been selfishly hoarding and pretending didn't exist.

"You are," he said fiercely, his voice pitchy with emotion as he spoke through clenched teeth. "Let me catch you, Hermione. Please. We can get through this together."

She gazed up at him through her tears, still shaking her head, and she saw a tear slip down his cheek. It was just one, but it was enough. It was everything. She whimpered, feeling a fresh wave of tears threatening to overcome her. He leaned forward, his mouth kissing her ear.

"Let me catch you."

What little resolve Hermione possessed melted and she turned her face to capture his lips. She gripped the hair at the base of his head, the wet strands sliding through her fingers. She used them to anchor herself as she pushed up on tip-toe, molding her body to his, kissing him with everything she'd been holding back from him.

She kissed him with every Hermione. The Hermione he'd called Mudblood as a child. The Hermione that screamed underneath his aunt. The Hermione that won the war. The Hermione that helped his father. The Hermione that bickered with him and fought with him and was angry with him all the time. The Hermione that was traumatized, and the one that was ashamed, and the one that had nightmares of him.

The Hermione that was falling for him.

He let out a ragged moan and shoved her against the pillar, his head turning to kiss her deeper, his tongue delving into her mouth. He dominated her entirely - his tongue in her mouth, his hands on her skin, his body towering over hers.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into her ear as his hands slipped up beneath her jumper and cupped her breasts. "I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm gonna make it up to you. Right here. Right now."

Hermione didn't care that they were in the courtyard. She didn't care about anything except for his soft hands, gentle against her bosom, and she arched her back. She moaned, the earlier tears drying on her cheeks as he rendered her almost boneless beneath his touch.

"I'll give you anything you want," he whispered, his lips wrapping around her earlobe and sending a spike of pleasure directly to the center of her body. "You want me to touch you?"

Before she could answer, one of his hands moved down, out of her jumper and under her skirt. He cupped her womanhood, over her black nylons, and massaged her slowly. Her eyelids fluttered shut and her head fell back against the stone pillar, her fingers wrapping tightly in his wet uniform vest, and she rolled her hips against his fingers. He pressed against her harder, eliciting a heavy sigh from her mouth, one he mirrored as he covered her lips with his own.

Without fully kissing her, their lips parted and breathing each other's air, he reached down with both hands and slid them under her skirt from behind. He held her bottom tenderly, pushing and pulling, making her stomach flip and her womb clench.

"You have to answer me," he said, tilting his head to the side and smiling against her lips. "I promised consent, witch."

"Touch me," she said, completely lost to her desperation and fervor. "Please, Draco. Please."

He hooked his hands around her thighs and pulled them up, lifting her into the air. She cried out in surprise, and he swallowed it with a scorching hot kiss. She hooked her legs around his waist, barely feeling the cold rain against her feverish skin as he held her against the pillar with his chest. She could feel his erection through his trousers, hard and firm before her, and she almost thought of reaching down to touch it. A flush rose to her cheeks, and then he distracted her.

"I'm gonna rip your tights," he said, and then he promptly did it, reaching between her legs with both fingers. He tore them, and then she felt his fingers against the fabric of her soaked knickers.

Hermione kissed him again, her hips squirming as he reduced her to near-tears. He broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers, panting softly.

"You matter to me more than anything. More than anyone. Do you understand that?"

Her eyelids snapped open and her heart skipped several beats. She couldn't speak. She knew if she did, she might start crying again. She nodded, pushing her hips forward, pleading with her eyes. This, with his hand inside her, was something they'd never done. She'd never felt any part of him inside of her before. She wanted it. She wanted him.

"Tell me. I want to hear you say it," he hissed, his fingers slipping inside of her knickers from the side of the crotch.

"I'm y-yours," she said, her voice quivering with emotion and a bit of nerves. She slid her hands up to cup his cheeks and stroked her thumbs along his cheekbones. She looked him directly in the eyes. "I'm yours."

"That's right," he said, groaning and nuzzling his nose against hers as his right hand gripped her rear and held her up with it. His eyes flicked up and down her face and then they flashed dangerously. "You're mine. You're always gonna be mine."

His fingers stroked up the length of her cunt once, wet from the rain and soft with tenderness. He took his fore and middle fingers and slid them inside of her slowly. She closed her eyes and dug her fingers into the skin on his face as he did it, crossing her ankles behind his waist to help keep herself from completely sagging downward. Her lips parted as the pool of desire in her lower body began to heat higher. With the high tensions, rain, and passion of it all, her entire body was on edge.

It wasn't going to take long.

Draco twisted his hand and curled his fingers upward, pressing a spot behind her pelvis that she'd only read about. Her mouth fell open again in a loud sigh, and then he was thrusting his hand in and out, hitting that same spot again and again. Hermione wasn't sure when she lost her mind, but she supposed it was somewhere between "Draco, pleeease," and "Don'tstopdon'tstop." She had no idea what she was pleading for, she just knew that only he could give it to her.

Her eyes cracked open and she saw him watching her with an almost reverent look on his face, his bottom lip half hidden by teeth that bit into it. The feelings he was creating in her body were too much and not enough, and she began to move her hips in time with his hand's movements. He breathed out a laugh and then shoved his face against her throat, sucking at the skin on her neck. She arched her back again, as if she could get away from the overwhelming sensations, and she moaned.

"Yeah, that's it," Draco growled into her ear, his tongue snaking around the top of it. "Fuck my hand, little witch. Does it feel good? Tell me how it feels."

Hermione felt his words in her clit and she did exactly as he asked.

"Feels so good," she whimpered, moving her hips faster. She could feel his hardness against her, and sweat was starting to bead on her brow amongst the drops of rainwater.

Feeling a rush of boldness while also wanting to do something to make him feel as good as he made her feel, she removed her hands from his shoulders and began fumbling with the buckle of his belt. His hand stuttered and in a panic, thinking he was going to stop, she shook her head.

"Want to," she mumbled, her eyes trained on his trousers as she unbuttoned them. "I want this."

His answer was to kiss her hard on the lips, over and over, all while she reached down into his unzipped trousers. She went for gold, her fingers hooking around the band of his pants and pulling them outward. She used her other hand to wrap his length in her grasp, feeling his heat and looking up into his eyes as her rain-slicked fingers began to move up and down. She'd never done this before and she wouldn't for anyone else, but this was Draco. This was Draco, and he'd done things for her that more than warranted it.

"Look at me." He resumed thrusting his fingers in and out of her, and the surprise of it caused her to tighten her hold on his manhood and yank slightly. He gasped and bit his lips. "Oh, fuuuck. Do that again. Again."

As Hermione worked him, his hips pressed forward into hers even harder, pushing his own hand deeper inside of her. Her toes began to curl in her trainers, and she could feel a pleasant tingling starting to make its way throughout her body. Her moans grew in volume, increased in pace, becoming more strangled. And then, when he pulled his fingers out of her, slippery with her slick, and he began to play with her clit, she really did lose her mind.

"Draco," was all she could manage to keen. "Draco, I - Need -"

"I'm here," he groaned, his mouth against hers. He tilted his head again, thrusting upward into her wet hand and moaning under his breath. "I'm here with you."

Her mouth fell open and her head fell back, her fringe wet against her forehead. "Don't leave," she whined. "Don't."

He shook his head, kissing her again, repeatedly, making her stomach flip and her heart swell.

"Fuck," he groaned, the hand that was holding her up by the rear squeezing her flesh. He stared at their hands between their bodies, the rain sliding down their skin. The look on his face was euphoric, cheeks and neck flushed red where the light hit him, his eyes burning as bright as stars. "Fuck, you're gonna make me cum. You're gonna make me cum, Hermione."

Hermione moved her hand faster, feeling her own body responding to the sounds and sights of his pleasure, and she inhaled sharply. Any moment now, she was going to fall apart, she knew it.

"Fuckfuckfuck," he whined, and then his fingers pulled out of her channel and began to rub against her clit. Her entire body went rigid and she saw white stars behind her closed eyelids, the back of her head scraping against the pillar. "Are you gonna cum for me?"

"Mm-hm," she said, rising on her breaths and flying through the sky.

"Tell me sweetly. Tell me so fucking sweetly."

Hermione said the first thing that came to mind in her addled state of mind.

"I'm - I'm c-cumming for you, sir." Her voice came out high-pitched, strangled, breathy.

He whimpered, and then he was falling off the cliff, directly into his release. She felt his body shuddering, heard him whispering her name, and then she felt the taut rope that had been stretched in her body reaching its limit. She cried out, almost sobbing, and saw swirling galaxies behind her eyelids. She needed it, she needed it. She needed him. She was on the precipice, she was close. She was -

Draco let out a feral snarl and sunk his fangs into her neck. The moment they pierced her skin, a wealth of magic flooded her body and filled her from head to toe. Her eyes flew open and she soared off the edge of the mountain, her body a trembling mess in his arms. She felt waves of pleasure radiating outward from the bite and in spite of her terror, she pushed her throat against his mouth. She came hard enough to see black spots dancing across her line of sight when she opened her eyes, and then she went limp.

When he finally pulled his fangs out of her flesh, the passionate haze faded and she was left with a lump of coal in her throat. He slowly eased her back down to her feet. The torrential downpour continued.

They stood in silence.

"What -"

"Draco, don't say anything," she whispered, feeling fear chilling her once-scorching blood to ice. She held her hands against her cheeks and stared up at him in shock.

He bit her. Draco bit her.

"You're a Veela," she whispered. "And a werewolf."

"Are we . . . ? Are you my . . . ?"

"I don't know." She was trembling, and her body felt weak. Blood trickled steadily down her throat and stained her wet shirt. She began to wring her hands. "The actual ceremony has to be . . . I-Intercourse. We didn't. But -"

"I bit you."

"You bit me." Silence. She tried to calm herself, still wringing her hands. "Do you feel any different?"

"No. Do you?"

She shook her head. They hadn't talked about this, and even though she didn't know exactly what it meant, she knew that he had been adamant about not mating with her. Were they mated now? Bonded in some way? How would it manifest?

"Sleep in my room tonight?" he asked. "We can discuss it there."

Her first response was to say no, that she needed time to think, that she had detention, that she was scared she'd sleep with him, but when she thought of not being near him, it made her feel panicked. What if something happened while they were apart? What if the bond hurt them if they weren't near each other? What if he withered if she was more than a certain amount of feet away?

She blinked.

"I just almost had a panic attack," she said, looking up at him fearfully.

"Why?"

"Because I wanted to say no."

They stared at each other in breathless shock. Draco narrowed his eyes and shook his head slowly.

"We didn't mate, I know that for certain. But we're bonded. I can feel it. It's like a . . . Fire. Under my skin. My magic recognizes it as you." He slowly lifted his hand, palm up. His facial expression was calm but a bit chagrined. Hermione could tell he felt terrible.

Hermione thought back to everything she'd read about Veelas in the Library. She went through the pages and the words in her mind, trying to remember if she'd ever read anything about what happened when a Veela bit someone.

A light flashed in her mind. She'd figured it out. She knew what this was.

She placed her hand in his, and immediately felt the growing panic in her chest settling into a grim despair.

"You claimed me."

"What does that mean?"

"We have to mate. Or we'll both die."