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Later that evening, Hermione found herself pacing around her bedroom. Her thoughts were plagued by what Draco could possibly want from her - when she's already giving him more than he could ask for.
She also pondered on what Lavender and Malfoy had said to her earlier that day about Cormac McLaggen and Ron Weasley. Where on earth had they gotten the idea that she was into either of them, let alone fu-
She shivered. She'd be daft if she didn't admit that she was aware of Cormac's interest in her. They were both in Professor Slughorn's "Slug Club" and he had become rather…. familiar with her.
"You've grown up, haven't you?" He'd asked her slimily as he looked her up and down. "What's a bloke have to do to get two hours with you?"
She imagined that word had travelled fast about their one-sided interactions, and she was now certain it had travelled with some false information. She shivered at the thought of sharing anything more than a classroom with the dope.
Then there was Ron. Lavender, it seemed, had taken a liking to Ron - very obviously so. Seemingly out of nowhere, too. Sure, Ron had grown a few inches over the summer. And yes, he had now filled out his sweater well, and it was true that he had grown into his nose and ears quite nicely. But Ron was still the same goofy, irritable, and teasing boy he'd been the years before. Why Draco and Lavender had implied there was something going on between her and Ron, she had no idea.
There were moments she wondered if there could be something between them. Last summer at the Borrow there had been a moment where she knew that there was going to be nothing more than friendship between the two of them. Harry had gone off to bed, leaving Hermione and Ron to play one more round of Exploding Snap. She wasn't fond of the game, but she was always so fond of the company.
The fire was burning low next to them and Ron's face was beautiful in the low, flickering light. He'd smiled at her, and she felt warm inside. The game slowed down, and they eventually stopped playing altogether. At that moment, Ron leaned forward and kissed her softly on the lips - and she felt nothing. She'd told him this later that week when he tried to kiss her again, and he got rather flustered. He then said that he felt nothing either and then proceeded to ignore her for a week.
She started to realize that Malfoy and Lavender's assumptions may have stemmed from some of that - maybe Ron was letting on to what had happened last summer.
Hermione let out a long sigh and sat at the edge of her bed, still fully clothed in the same outfit she was wearing earlier: an oversized deep gold jumper, her red and gold striped headband, and her Muggle jeans. She'd hoped Malfoy would have returned sooner so that she could get ready for bed, but here she was - nearly ten in the evening, and she was still waiting for him.
It was when she plopped her back down on her bed that she heard the faint sound of his bedroom door clicking open. Her ears were focused on the following sounds: booted footsteps on the cold stone floor, the roar of a newly ignited fire, and the rustle of a young man's cloak. The light from the fire shone under her bedroom door. She watched his shadow as he paced back and forth before moving out of sight.
She sat up - surely he was coming to fetch her soon. Then, she heard the bathroom door swiftly open and close. The beginnings of a shower bled into her ears before he cast a silencing charm.
How positively rude, to keep me waiting for his favour, she thought as she felt her neck turn red with heat. Quickly jumping to stand, her bare feet cold on the stone floor, she exited her room with purpose. In three swift, long strides, Hermione was at the bathroom door, banging angrily to get his attention.
"I've been waiting all night for you to get back so I can help you," she said in an annoyed, raised tone of voice. "I hope you enjoy your shower, you prick!" The silencing charm was not removed. She wondered whether or not he had even heard her at all.
Turning on her heel, the stone scraping her skin as she did so, she strutted over to the black sofa that sat in front of the fire. She would wait there for him - and she would make sure he knew that he was being entirely inconvenient and rude.
Malfoy had kept her waiting for nearly an hour. It was a quarter to eleven and she could have been reading up on Egyptian Runes for her Ancient Runes class - her favourite course.
The door clicked open and Hermione snapped her head to the door with steam pillowing out and dissipating in the cool air of the common area. Draco Malfoy stood in the doorway wearing black trousers and a silver and green houndstooth jumper. His hair was half-dry, and his face flush from the steam. His cold eyes caught her staring and he grinned deviously.
"What is it you Muggles say?" He placed a hand on his chin and made a show of trying to think of the phrase. "Ah, yes. Take a picture, Granger. It will last longer."
She felt heat rise to her face as she looked away. "I wasn't looking like that," she muttered. Shaking off her mild embarrassment, she pounced to her feet like a lioness and glared in his direction. "I've been waiting all night for you."
"Hate to break it to you, Granger, but I don't like you like that. Or, really, at all," he took her all in with a scrutinizing look. She continued to stand tall in spite of her feelings of belittlement.
"Is this how you expect to get me to help you with whatever it is you're going to ask me?" She questioned, crossing her arms over her chest. "Or are you just behaving this way to save face? Seeing as you have to resort to begging a Muggle-born for help?" She knew she'd clocked him when she saw his smile falter.
Draco rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck before pushing past her and casually plopping down into an armchair. "Begging is not the word I'd use for this request," he looked down at his pristine nail beds and sighed. "Actually, you have to do it whether or not you want to."
She gave away her shock and concern - Malfoy grinned in a catlike manner. He dropped his hand and leaned forward, his elbows pressing into his knees. She gulped and crossed her arms over her chest defensively. "You can't make me do anything I don't want to," she said sternly, unconsciously leaning away from him.
Draco snickered and leaned back, stretching his legs out so far his now bare feet were nearly touched hers. She tucked her feet closer to the sofa. "That's where you're wrong," he began, placing his hands on the leather arms of the chair. "The blood bond ensures that you will protect me and help me with my mission at all costs. So, yes, I can make you do anything you don't want to, so long as it pertains to the 'mission'."
Hermione shut her eyes tight and let out a shaky breath. When she opened them, she found Malfoy staring at her face with a calculating expression. "Please don't make me do anything heinous," she said. "It's not fair to abuse the bond."
Draco pulled his feet back so that his heels pressed into the edge of the armchair. "Don't be daft," he said, "I may despise you, but I'm not so sadistic as to turn you into my little plaything." His lips curved up into a smirk. "Though I warn you to be careful. Who knows if I change my mind."
Hermione glowered at him. "Get on with it then," she urged him to proceed as she flicked a limp wrist. "How can I serve you?"
Draco let out a laugh. "I never thought you'd be the type to be so dramatic, Granger," he paused to sit up right. "Alright, getting on with it. I need your help on how to get something into the castle. Something that can't appear to have been in the castle to start. It needs to be somewhat elaborate, yet somewhat inconspicuous at the same time."
"What do you need to get in?" Her curiosity was peaking.
"A necklace," he said matter-of-factly as he stood from his seat and walked to his room. He swung open the door and disappeared behind it. As soon as he had disappeared, he reappeared with a rectangular black box. He was also now wearing a pair of gloves, but Hermione hadn't noticed.
Carefully, Malfoy took the lid off the box and placed it on the stained glass coffee table. He held the box towards her. She stared in awe - in the box, on a crimson velvet bed, was the most beautiful Opal necklace she'd ever seen. The turquoise colours catching her eye as they glimmered in the fire light, contrasting with the silver chain. "This necklace, to be exact."
Hermione was drawn to the necklace. An urge, a need, came over her and she reached out to touch it and -
Draco swiftly pulled the box out of reach. "Have some control, Granger," he snapped. His face was flush and Hermione picked up what looked like fear on his features. "It's cursed. This very necklace has killed nineteen Muggles," he said with a smirk as he looked at it - admiring it. She felt a tinge of jealously, but brushed it off. "At least, that's what they told me at Borgin and Burkes. They also said that it would be irresistible to Muggles, Mudbloods, and Half-Bloods alike. Seems they were right on that bit," he said as he gave the necklace one last look. He placed the lid back on the box, closing it tightly.
Hermione shook her head - the haze that had been over her was gone. "So what is it for?"
"Well, ideally I will get it into the castle. Dumbledore knows it is coming, so he won't open the box. But it will appear to be an attempt, and that should please the Dark Lord."
"Why didn't Dumbledore give you a plan?" She asked, her eyes flicking to the box. She just wanted one more look.
Draco looked at her with derision. "Why has he always put you and the other two brainless twits in dangerous situations he could have prevented?" He asked her. "It's not as entertaining to do it all himself."
Hermione's eyes snapped to Draco's. She stood to her feet. "He would never do that. Dumbledore cares about us - everything that has happened has been out of his control."
He rolled his eyes and took a step back from her. "Think what you will. He wanted me to figure this out on my own. He also heavily encouraged me to use you, so take that as you will, as well."
She faltered - was that true? Hermione shook her head - of course not. But there must be a reason he didn't want to be involved in this.
"So, do you have a plan of action yet?"
"If I had any sort of plan of action, do you think I would be coming to a Mudblood for help?"
That word. She was filled with rage. He'd used it against her often, but for some reason, in that moment, she'd had enough. Here he was, asking for more of her help, more of what she could give him. And yet, he still resorted to slurs and insults. "Let's get one thing straight, Malfoy," she growled between clenched teeth as she whipped out her wand. She stalked towards him until his back hit a wall. "You will never refer to me or any other Muggle-born like that in this room again. You can be as bigoted and ignorant as you desire with the rubbish you call friends, but not here." She saw him quivering as her wand pressed into his neck, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Am I clear?"
"Yes, yes, you're loud and clear," he said. "I'll try to keep it to myself."
"Right," Hermione looked to the box. She could help him better if she could get one more look. She knew she could. She told herself she had to. "Can I take it with me to examine?"
"Absolutely not," he said as his fingers tightened their grip. "You may think you have control, but you don't. You'd be dead before you had a chance to resist. I need you alive to help me."
Her shoulders deflated and she took a step back, lowering her wand. "Fine. Give me a week. When do you need to make moves on this?"
"October 12th," he replied curtly. "Ideally."
Today was September 28th. She could manage. "I'll do my best," she said. "We won't be hurting anyone, right?"
"Right," he assured. "Well. This has been exhausting."
"Yes, indeed," she replied.
The two of them looked at one another before exiting the common area to their personal rooms without a 'goodnight'. Hermione felt stress bubble up inside her as she undressed. On top of classes, her social life, and helping the boys with figuring out the Half-Blood Prince she now had to actively help Draco Malfoy "kill" the Headmaster.
She couldn't help but feel extremely, extremely exhausted.
See you Sunday!