Song Suggestion: Ruelle—"Madness"

The Wild Card

Hermione

Three Months Later

"You're fucking him, aren't you?" Ginny asked with her arms crossed, sitting on the edge of her bed.

Hermione groaned and pulled the covers over her head.

"The sun isn't even up yet, Gin."

In answer, Ginny vanished her covers and let the end of her wand glow with the brightness of a thousand suns.

"Why are you being so cruel," Hermione seethed, but allowed herself to adjust to the light. Ginny's lips pinched together in distaste as she clicked the edge of her wand in her hand.

"Because you're evading my question."

"Ugh," Hermione said. "Okay. Yes. Whatever. So what—"

"How long?"

"Three months."

This startled Ginny, giving a slack expression as if wondering how she missed it. Her friend stood up and went to go sit in her reading chair. She sighed and sprawled out.

"Well…" she quirked a smile. "Is he really the Slytherin Sex god?"

"Actually, he was a virgin."

Ginny blinked two times before a barking laugh broke its way past her pinched lips. She grabbed her sides and threw back her head, giggling so hard she could barely catch a breath.

"A—A virgin…" Ginny sputtered out. "Th—that's the b—best thing I've heard all year." She wiped away a few tears pooling at the edge of her eyes.

It had been three months of secret trysts. In the library. In his dorm. In her dorm. In abandoned classrooms. In the baths. And one time in the restricted section where they almost got caught by Madam Pince herself.

By this point, there wasn't very many places left they hadn't shagged. Hermione had drawn a hard line at meeting up in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Having that insipid ghost hovering over them wasn't very appealing.

Hermione thought she'd tire of Draco, but the days and months bled together. It worried her that she still sought him out like a muggle junkie looking for a fix. The desire was a need just like eating or drinking. So intense it needed to be satisfied.

By early March, they spent whole weekends together, sometimes sneaking up to the Astronomy tower. She studied the bright dots of constellations, wondering if it could tell her future. She'd never been one to find meaning in tea leaves or give credence to seers, but she wished to see the lie, wished to let it lull her into a false future, if only for a moment.

It didn't help Draco constantly surprised her. He was charming and funny when he tried. She must have known this all along, but she had never experienced it for herself.

Under the cover of stars, Malfoy regaled her with tales of his childhood with Goyle and Nott, as she traced the scars on her stomach. Like the time they accidently turned Goyle senior purple after stashing a random potion in some tea. It took five hundred galleons and a specialist wizard to reverse it.

And, much later, as the stars began to extinguish with the rising sun, Hermione told him of the muggle world. He found their idea of sports dull ("So they just kick a ball around and try to take it from one another?") But he found the description of the internet fascinating. ("So it's like an infinite library?"). And Cellphones intrigued him. ("So it's the floo but without the mess?")

It all seemed like a dream most days, and she was perfectly content for it to stay that way.

But Ginny knowing about them made everything seem more real and fragile... and foolish.

The youngest Weasley slowly stopped laughing.

"I hope you're being careful," she said.

Hermione scoffed. She plucked at a loose thread in her sheet, unable to look up, afraid her best friend would see right through her.

"Of course, I am. I always use the contraceptive charm."

The pause the sentence left filled the air.

"I don't mean in that way."

Of course. She meant in ways that could truly damage.

"We're going to break it off by graduation."

Ginny rolled her eyes but surprisingly didn't say anything.

"I just don't want you to get hurt."

Hermione started to say something but stopped because her worry was warranted.

They spent their days stealing moments: a touch on the small of her back, a brush of their fingers together under the table. They spent their nights and free time tangled together.

But they didn't talk about the future. The idea was a red button on a nuclear warship, a potential catalyst of mass destruction. It lingered in the room with them behind every moan of pleasure, every whisper in darkness.

But she couldn't hide from the inevitable truth forever.

Because graduation hurtled toward them.

Hermione

Hermione walked out of the Three Broomsticks with a spring to her step. Early April melted the snow and warmed the air to a gentle breeze, but the ground turned slick and muddy in the areas not paved. Hermione gingerly stepped around the worst spots, on a mission to find Draco.

They planned to meet in the shrieking shack. The whole day she fidgeted in anticipation. By the time she finished her butterbeer, Ginny rolled her eyes and shooed her out. The youngest Weasley may not approve of her choice in men, but she didn't stop her. Hermione was glad someone knew. Sneaking around wasn't something she liked to do, but Hermione knew the world would not treat their relationship nice. And despite knowing they'd never make a true couple, she still didn't want people stepping on it before it ended.

Hermione made a sudden turn, slipping behind the buildings, looking around to see if anyone noticed her exit. Soon, Draco would take the same route, and she didn't want to arouse suspicion.

With no one else around, she enjoyed the gentle sunshine, tilting her head back to soak in the vitamin D. The earth around her erupted in spring flowers, blanketing the ground in colors. The trees sprouted buds but still afforded enough privacy to get to her destination without being seen.

It was beautiful, calm, tranquil.

Until a branch snapped behind her. Just a crackle. But she knew someone followed her.

It wasn't Draco. He wasn't set to meet her for another ten minutes.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up in warning. An instinct as old as predator and prey. Her ears perked up, and her instinct prodded her. There's danger near, it told her.

Her wand sprung to her palm, still pointed at the earth. She kept walking, attempting to act as if she wasn't aware.

Her eyes were on the trees around her, scanning the area as she walked forward, measuring each step.

But she still wasn't careful enough. All it took was one step forward. And then one second she was upright; the next she was tackled to the ground by something sticky. It cinched around her body, trapping her wand hand to her side, leaving her as powerless as Mosag's web.

Hermione attempted to stand, but the goo expanded and encapsulated her ankles, sticking her to the ground.

In blind panic, she struggled harder against her substance but stopped when she heard the crunch of leaves, louder and closer until an upside down, grinning Rosewood peered above her head.

The terror was visceral, a muscle memory. Very few people made trauma bubble to the surface in her soul… made her afraid.

For as long as she lived, she'd never forget the way he casually placed a wand to Clara's neck. Would never forget the sharp punch of his knife in her gut. She'd carry the scar he gave to her grave.

Hermione refused to show her fear after the initial surprise, rearranging her facial muscles, throwing up her occlumency walls.

"How did you get passed the wards?"

He rolled his eyes, as if he enjoyed the mystery.

"As you've probably figured out, resisting six-legged salamander saliva only allows it to coagulate further." Rosewood swaggered forward so she could see him better. "You're quite at my mercy."

Hermione tried to keep a tight leash on her panic, but she'd always been a little claustrophobic, and the desire to get free grew until it turned into desperation. Rosewood sensed this, his duplicitous grin growing. She didn't understand how she hadn't seen through it before.

"What do you want with me?"

He kneeled, so she was close enough to see his crooked bottom row of teeth. He was handsome in an odd way with a flush to his cheeks and stark black hair, but his nose set off-center and hooked downward. His chin pointed, setting off a long and lean face.

"Ah, Hermione." He stroked her cheek. She flinched away, making her constraints tighter. "It's a stroke of luck you survived. The years of toil and sacrifice could have ended in disaster. But fate is kind… because it wasn't long after Romania, I discovered it was you all along."

"If fate was kind, you'd be dead."

He brushed a hand down her curls as if she was a dog, unbothered by her hate.

"I took the position of professor when my sources indicated the key was tucked away in Hogwarts. Despite your power, I dismissed you based on your heritage, though you intrigued me greatly. Draco was a more likely candidate. It's almost ironic it turned out to be you. Hidden in plain sight."

"Help!" She screamed out as loud as possible. She might be in a losing fight, but she would never walk to her grave quietly.

"No one can hear you, sweets. And when you awaken, no one will hear you then either."

He placed his wand to her forehead, and she spit on his hand. It was the only thing she could think of doing. A pathetic last resort. No matter what, she couldn't let him continue.

"You're a feral little thing." He grimaced and wiped the spit on his robe. "But I'll break that from you in time. By the end, you'll be as compliant as a puppy."

His wand went back to her temple. She fought the constraints with all her might, turning her head to snap her teeth—her only available weapon.

It accomplished nothing.

"Goodnight, Hermione." He cast a blue spell at her head.

Her eyesight narrowed into points, and despite her struggle, the darkness won.

Draco

Draco walked along the little path to the whomping willow. Granger showed him several months ago how to still the violent tree with a simple touch, and the dusty room became his favorite spot to fuck Granger. Despite the moth-worn furniture and the dilapidated walls, they could be as loud as they wanted without a spell to conceal them. It felt like their own hideaway. In there, he could almost pretend the whole world only consisted of them.

If it was up to him, they would continue this forever. He wasn't ready to give up Granger just yet. The trick was to convince her. She was too moral, too righteous, in her thinking to keep a secret tryst. It would take delicate handling.

Halfway to the tree, he heard the scream.

He knew it was Granger, knew it instantly by the tremor of fear that travelled down the golden link and into his soul. His body snapped upright, and his wand jumped to his hand without conscious thought.

He raced forward, uncaring if the bushes snagged him, uncaring if he stumbled. He ran in a blind panic until he reached the clearing to find Rosewood gathering an unconscious Hermione into his arms. Some sort of sticky substance coated most of her lower body.

"Avada—" He muttered.

But a bright red spell slammed into Rosewood before he could finish.

His old professor hurtled backward, his body slamming into the ground, clutching at his throat. Within seconds, Rosewood pointed his wand to his mouth and reversed the curse.

A Death Eater stepped out to his right with a heavy metal mask etched in swirling ancient runes. Draco flinched backward, recognizing the mask instantly.

"Why are you here?"

Draco raised his wand, unsure who he should defend himself against, when the Death Eater turned to him with a growl in his throat.

"Help Hermione!" The Death Eater chucked another spell at Rosewood. It glanced off a newly erected blue shield.

Whatever he may think Rosewood, there was no debate he deserved his position as Defense against the dark arts instructor. The fight would be vicious.

Kill the bastard or save his witch—it was the only choice given.

It was an easy decision, in the end. The fight could wait for another day. He rushed toward an abandoned Hermione, keeling beside her. Mud splatted up his robes, but for the first time in his life, he didn't care. He cradled Hermione's head in his hands and brought her lips to his ear. She still breathed, but shallow as if asleep.

A simple curse.

For a moment he thought she had—

"Finite Incantatem." Draco breathed a sigh of relief when Hermione gasped a breath and opened her eyes, wild and searching.

The battle raged just at the edge of his vision. The Death Eater flung dangerous spells at Rosewood…illegal ones. Ones that would send him straight to Azkaban, even if used in defense.

But Rosewood was no easy target. Despite the Death Eater's experience and power, he was losing. He fought hunched over as if wounded, and each spell came slower and with more effort.

Granger needed to be awake and free of the substance if they had a chance of winning against someone like Rosewood, but she was disoriented.

"Granger, I have to get rid of this stuff on you." Draco gave her head a little tug towards him to focus her. Each frantic breath of hers caused the slime to restrict more somehow. "But I don't know how."

Granger's eyes went down to her body encased in the pearlescent slime, and her eyes lit on fire, as if remembering every important thing.

"The slime of six-legged salamander… It tightens with movement like those finger traps from the carnivals… oh, never mind. It just needs water!"

Such a simple cure. It must have tortured Granger to know the answer with no way to solve the problem.

"Aguamenti," he said.

The goo slicked off her into a giant puddle, adding to the already muddy ground.

"That's my clever girl," Draco said. "Now we can kill the bastard."

Hermione stood up on shaky legs, clothes sticking to her body like a second skin, wand still in her hand. Her eyes turned downward, her free hand up and ready to twist.

Rosewood glanced in their direction and his mouth gaped open in surprise, eyes wide with fear. But just as Granger almost twisted her hand, foul curses on her lips, a Centaur—Bane—stepped out of the woods with his wand aimed straight for Hermione's heart.

The clearing froze. Bane's bow creaked tighter as the Death Eater clutched his stomach with his free hand, wand dangling loosely in the direction of Rosewood. Hermione held her hand in the air, eyes dropped down in a stare edged with death.

Draco stood useless beside Granger, unsure what to do, afraid any sudden movement would set off a violent chain of events. All the chess pieces trembled with impatience, weapons ready for the next move.

"Why are you saving him?" Hermione hissed at Bane.

"Your movements set fires, little human." Bane straightened and his tail flicked. "The blaze would head the wrong direction."

"Let me kill him," Granger almost begged. He'd never heard her voice so low and rough, almost a tiger's growl.

"It's not his time," The Centaur answered.

Rosewood straightened, eyes on both Granger and Bane. The slimy worm wasn't one to question good luck. No doubt he understood he just barely escaped certain death. Even with the Death Eater swaying on his feet, it was three against one. With one being Hermione Granger. She could pull his intestines through his mouth if she wanted, and he doubted even Rosewood's skill could stop it.

Granger groaned. She looked pained as Rosewood pocketed his wand, a mocking smirk painting his mouth.

"It's a pleasure seeing you again, Ms. Granger." He gave a bow. "I'll make sure it happens again in the future."

Hermione's eyes darkened as they dipped down in anger, and she twisted her hand, despite Bane's threat. Rosewood lifted in the air with his toes scraping the ground. The skin around his mouth turned a greyish blue. His eyes bulged outward.

"Let him go, witch." Bane snapped a hoof on the ground, flicking up specks of mud. "Or I'll show you why even your dark wizard was afraid of centaurs' arrows."

Draco touched Hermione's shoulder. With the reminder, Hermione heaved a sigh and reluctantly released Rosewood. He collapsed to the ground, gasping in choking breaths and tearing at his throat as if to make holes for oxygen.

Hermione spit on the ground in his direction.

"Believe my words as they if they came from the mouth of seer." She pointed a finger in his direction, punctuating every word. "If I ever see you again, I'll set your nervous system on fire. I'll make you believe mice are in your brain until you are rocking in a corner. And then I'll sever your eyes from your skull and leave you to your darkness."

Draco shivered at her promise, wondering if the Gryffindor queen, champion of light and bravery, could ever torture someone and then leave them to their misery. Looking at the power leaking from her now, electrifying her hair, whipping the air into a slight wind, he believed her every word.

Rosewood seemed to as well. He gathered himself, face stripped of bravado and pretend. His features twisted with his true nature, eyes sparking with an odd malice. He pulled his lips into a snarl as if an animal.

"I was planning to treat you like a queen." His lip curled even further. "But now, when you're finally under my thumb, I'll make sure to press down just to see you squirm in pain. You'll be nothing but a base beast, and I'll make you do terrible things your soul won't recover from."

Hermione trembled, and Draco shook with the need for retribution, ready to finally kill someone.

But he had so many questions and not enough answers.

Why would Rosewood want Hermione?

He learned long ago it was better to act when you had all the cards in front of you. A blind run of courage only worked out for people like Potter, and even then, the luck eventually vanished for them as well.

Rosewood would die. Someday and in a painful way. He'd make sure of that. But the Centaur was right, it wouldn't be today. Not if the stars warned against it, and not with the arrow pointed in their direction.

So they could do nothing but shift in the mud, shaking in fury, as Rosewood pulled out the same chocolate frog portkey as last time, an almost mocking gesture, and vanished with a pop as he stared at Hermione with hate.

The rest of them stood in the wake of terror he left. With the pop of the portkey, the Death Eater crumpled to the ground, clutching his stomach. Once seated, his hand came up, covered in bright red blood.

"Fuck," he whispered, but no one payed him any attention.

Hermione leveled her wand at the Centaur, her whole arm shaking. With rage? With latent fear? Draco wished to read her mind.

"Why couldn't you just let me kill him?" Hermione had the same strange gravelly voice, as if made of jagged stone. "How is that maggot's life worth so much?"

Bane lowered his weapon. His black coat gleamed in the sunlight. Draco had never seen one so close in the daytime. The light picked up the details of the smooth transition from man to beast. It fascinated and repulsed him at the same time.

The centaur stood in front of Hermione's wand without fear, without a defense to protect him. He sneered down his sharp nose, angular features pulling into a sneer that could rival Draco's. He clearly hated humans.

"You have decisions to make soon." The words pierced the air like his arrows. "And they will affect the world, affect all creatures in wizarding world, great and small." He gave a brief glance to Draco, and his features pulled back into one of contemplation. "Both of you do... be careful lest you take the wrong path and find my arrow through your heart."

He gave a brief nod in Granger's direction and completely ignored Draco as if he was moldy slime growing under a log. Then he twisted and disappeared back into the forest as fast as he arrived, leaving only the leaves to shiver.

After the Centaur left, Hermione gave Draco a lost look. Later he'd peel away the layers whether she wanted to or not, strip the fear from her soul. The Centaur wouldn't harm her. Rosewood wouldn't harm her. His own fucking father wouldn't harm her. Not if he had anything to say about it. What happened today would never happen again. He'd promise it in his own blood if he had to.

But there were other concerns at the moment… a third wild card in this debacle.

Their eyes broke from each other and searched the ground to find it empty. The injured Death Eater had used their conversation with Bane as time to escape.

"Where did he go?" Hermione asked.

Draco walked to the spot where the Death Eater had lain. He leaned down on the back of his heels and reached out to touch a blade of grass, pulling back a droplet of blood.

"He's injured," she said, and even without looking at her face he noted the touch of concern in her voice. "He tried… he protected me."

There was no time for questions before, but now there was.

If it was just the mask, he might have second guessed, but Draco recognized the tattoo on his forearm. The jagged scars on the man's face as his mask twisted to the side. A fraction of a second, but he recognized it.

Draco had always been a jealous creature. He'd come to terms with it long before. It didn't bother him usually because he rarely had to deal with the emotion in the first place. Potter made it flare, but other than the Chosen One, he was smarter, wealthier, and better looking than nearly everyone. What did he have to be jealous over, especially when it came to women?

But Granger? Just the thought of her with another man made every drop of magic in his body sizzle with hatred.

He rubbed the blood between his fingers, watched it smear into his skin as he contemplated. His body vibrated with an ugly, greedy feeling as he tilted his head to view his witch. She still looked at the spot on the ground in concern.

"Why the fuck was Marcus Flint here?"