Chapter Twenty-three. Fidelity lies in the eye of the beholder

Lying in my bed with an open book right next to me, I was staring at the ceiling and letting my mind run wild. It was the kind of moment when my mind was utterly blank but simultaneously thinking about everything. It ranged from the minor embarrassing incidents happened years and years ago but still somehow made me cringe, to the most recent event where I began to ponder what was going on between Malfoy and Parkinson, and why he looked at me in such a confusing way.

Love and affection are dangerous things, they make a sane person's mind spin like a spinning top.

I was alone in the dorm, everyone else was still in the Great Hall finishing up their desserts. The urge of wanting to speak to someone about it was growing, yet I had no one to get an opinion aside from Malfoy, the very person who was involved in it.

The more I told myself to let go, the more I became bothered.

Why would I even care?

Then I heard footsteps approaching, and for no apparent reason it made me nervous. Swiftly I tucked away the loose strands of hair that had been wandering in front of my eyes, sat up and leaned back against the headboard. Just as I picked the book and pretended to be reading, Ginny poked her head through the threshold.

"Hey there, "She said carefully while staring past my shoulder and avoiding any potential eye contact.

"Hi," I straightened my back, "You came back early."

"Yeah, kind of," She smiled awkwardly and came to stand next to my bed, "Can I talk to you for a second?"

"Sure," I put the book down, completely clueless about where she was going with this, "Sit down."

"Thank you," She said politely and sat on the edge of the bed, "Well, I don't really know where to start."

"Just start with whatever is on your mind right now," I said softly though I was more than dubious about her intention.

"First thing first," She cleared her throat, "I'm sorry about what happened back in my house."

Instead of responding, I remained silent and waited for her to keep going.

"I feel really bad about your voice not being heard," She lowered her head but quickly looked up again and put her hand on mine. Instinctively, I wanted to escape from the warmth of her palm, but I didn't, "And the heat of the moment, I didn't know what to do, or say. There was something I wanted to tell you then, but I didn't think it was appropriate to say it in front of everyone."

"And what's that?" I asked.

"I didn't mean to pry," She said slowly, appeared to be picking her words very cautiously, "Do you remember the day you asked me to tell Malfoy off?"

"If you are talking about the day when I had a headache and you read my journal without my permission," I said coldly, "Then, yes."

"Again, I'm sorry. And sometimes you talk just like Malfoy these days," She was rattled, "So, I told him off as you instructed without thinking too much of it and watched him leaving, that was until I saw Pansy Parkinson met him at the bottom of the stairs."

My heart dropped and began feeling anxious.

"And?" I asked as calmly as I possibly could.

"I couldn't really see much since I didn't want my presence known," She frowned and carried on watchfully, "Pansy looked upset and distraught. They were just speaking at first, then she got mad, she was waving her hands and pointing toward the top of the stairs. He tried to hash her, but that didn't work. She started crying. He was trying to walk pass her, but she wouldn't let him. I couldn't see his expression, so I don't know how he reacted to this. All I know is she was ridiculously distressed. The next thing I saw, he pulled her into his arms. And…"

"And?"

"And he kissed her," Ginny let out a long exhale. Looking concerned, she then held my hand tightly with both of her hands, "I'm sorry, Hermione."

"He did what?" I heard myself saying. I thought the sense of ringing in the ears only existed in the books until this very moment when I experienced it myself. Ginny opened her mouth and was about to speak, but I beat her to it, "No, no, don't repeat it, I heard you the first time."

"I should've told you sooner," Ginny was a little fidgety, "But I didn't think you two were serious. Ron kept telling me how you are only with Malfoy because you want to make him jealous."

"And you believe him?" I raised my voice in wretchedness, disappointment and anger, though I knew I shouldn't direct all these emotions to her, "Do they know about this?"

"I didn't know what to believe until that day in my house, when I realized you aren't just acting like you love Malfoy," She seemed to be slightly scared of my reaction, "So I knew I have to tell you this. And no, no one else knows about it."

"Thank you," I sighed and told myself to calm down, "Let's keep it that way, shall we?"

The red-haired girl nodded.

"Good," I slid my hand out of her grip, then jumped out of the bed, "If you'd excuse me, I have some personal business to handle."

She nodded again, surprised to see how I was able to stay collected and held it all together. Perhaps she thought I was going to have a rational conversation with Malfoy. What she didn't know is, as soon as I got out of the Gryffindor common room, where I was certain I was alone, tears began running down my cheeks uncontrollably.

I didn't want to cry, but the tears just kept rolling.

A wonderful start of the last semester.

Running down the spiral stairs, I wanted to get to the Slytherin dorm as fast as I could. I wasn't looking at the steps, I didn't care if I were to trip over or if the staircases would move and take me to some unknown location. Chaos filled my mind, and there were voices ringing, all shouting different things at me.

I felt like a marionette with strings attached all over me, pulling me to every possible direction.

Then I heard that one quiet voice whispering to me, begging me to slow down, to think thoroughly and rationally before taking any actions.

I made a sudden stop right before heading down the last set of stone stairs to the basement. If I were to confront Malfoy now, and accuse him of potential infidelity, it would not end well no matter what he said.

At that very second, I was so determined to believe in the worst that even if he did nothing out of the line, I'd still think he was lying.

We tend to only believe what we want to believe, and that's nothing but unfortunate.

There were many things I was uncertain of, but one thing I knew for sure was the love I had for Malfoy, and I didn't want to lose him. Never did and never will.

After taking a deep breath, I told myself the best course of action was to try to cool my head off.

Almost instinctively, I found myself wandering toward the observatory.

Sitting against the stone wall in the thin, chilly January air, I was shivering. I had stopped crying and miraculously managed to stay calm.

Deadly calm.

How I wished he'd show up at the top of those stairs, asked me what was going on in my mind and came to sit next to me. Then I'd pour it all out for him, watch him explain himself and the next second, I'd lean my head on his shoulder and I would be in his arms again.

But rarely any real romances flow in the same ways like how they are depicted in the books and movies.

I felt alone, overwhelmingly alone. The last time I felt this way was six years ago, in the freshmen year when no one wanted to be my friend until Harry and Ron came along. I often wondered if others were only nice to me because who I used to be close with. This thought seemed to be proven since now when that friendship faded, no one came to my side. No one but Ginny and Malfoy, the one who I didn't know whether I should trust, and the one who I used to trust.

How pathetic.

How many of Ginny's words could I believe? It could be the full truth, entirely fabricated, or anything in between. Though why would she lie? From the genuine concerned look on her face, it would be hard to believe she made all that up, and what for? If it was Lavender who came to speak with me about that matter, then I'd suspect it was a ridiculous way Ron planned to spread the rumor and make me doubt Malfoy's faithfulness.

But Ginny? Sure, we weren't too close for years, but after last year, the series of events bounded us together and feeling friendship was mutual.

More importantly, I trusted her.

Perhaps trusting others is an absurd trait.

I thought about Malfoy, about his intentions. I was sure he loved me, at least that was what I thought. If he didn't want me, why would he go above and beyond his way to get me to stay with him when our contract supposed to end? Or maybe this was all a sick joke to him, and he wanted to revenge his nemesis in the cruelest way possible.

I curled up to keep myself warm while attempting to solve the puzzle that I couldn't solve by myself.

As much as I didn't want to, I had no choice but to confront Malfoy.

Staying up late on the observatory without a jacket was definitely not the best idea, and I was surprised not to wake up to a cold. Dreaded and tired, I skipped breakfast and went straight to Potion.

With a troubled mind, I decided to sit in the very back, to which made Professor Slughorn rise his eyebrow and curled his lips, but I was glad he didn't say anything. Perhaps he saw the red puffiness in my eyes and figured I was bothered by some personal issues.

Other students began trailing in about five minutes after I got here, and I could hear Ron's voice from a distance before he even reached the threshold of the door. It reminded me of the days when I was walking right next to him, telling him to be quiet and not give Snape any excuse to get us into trouble.

How things had changed. Laughter was a distant memory, and so was Snape.

I shook the thoughts off and refused to live in the past.

"You missed breakfast," Someone sat down next to me and said quietly, "Why?"

"Just did feel like it," I shrugged and turned to look at Malfoy, pretending everything was fine.

"That's a lie," He said blatantly and frowned as he gently put his hand on mine. Slowly, he moved closer to me and stared at me in a way that I knew I couldn't lie to him, "Tell me, what's wrong?"

"Well," I swallowed, didn't dare to look away, "I don't know if this is the best time to talk about it, the class is about to begin."

"Is it about Pansy Parkinson?" He ignored the last part of my sentence and moved even closer. He repeated himself in a plain, almost intimidating tone, "Is it?"

I was about to answer him when Slughorn cleared his throat to signal the class had started, and I used this as an excuse to look away, as if it was possible for me to focus on a class right now .