Chapter 3

September 14, 1996

Classes had always been organized between Gryffindor and Slytherin, or Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. For some reason, Dumbledore felt it was best to pair the two houses with the worst rivalry, likely because he found some sort of amusement in the outcome of this decision. She wondered if it was the old age which had led him to be so absent minded. Perhaps he truly didn't know how incredibly incredulous the pairing of the house of pureblood supremacist Salazar Slytherin and the "blood traitor" Godric Gryffindor truly was. However, she secretly suspected that he genuinely found pleasure in watching the chaos that ensued. The man was many things– wise, kind, powerful– but he could also be a conniving mastermind.

Fred and George had told her that the change only happened the year she, Harry and Ron had entered the school. All four houses had once sat in the same room, to promote inter-house unity. As Hermione entered McGonagall's extraordinarily spotless Advanced Transfiguration classroom, she wished she'd arrive at the school seven years earlier.

She was always early. She and Professor McGonagall had built a close student/mentor relationship over the past six years, and being early to class meant Hermione could hold a conversation with the older witch without receiving ridicule from her peers.

Everyone knew she was always early.

No one else ever arrived early.

But today, Draco Malfoy was sitting at his usual desk, with his feet propped on the table and a book in his lap. For a moment, Hermione thought he looked– almost– peaceful, with his quill between his teeth, eyes scanning the text on the page. His face was calm, void of the usual smirk or sneer. Without the arrogance he radiated on any normal given day, he was strikingly handsome.

Took you long enough, Granger. Thought you wouldn't show.

She shivered. She had nearly forgotten the way his voice sounded as it had pushed its way into her mind; it was jarring, to say the least. She reminded herself to research occlumency. She wondered how long he had been trespassing without her permission without her having any knowledge of it. Hopefully she had managed to conceal her most... intimate thoughts.

Hermione scanned the room. McGonagall was nowhere to be found. Not even the feline animagus was present. Perhaps the professor despised the platinum blonde in the room as much as the rest of the school did, so much so that she could not bear to be alone with him.

With the absence of their teacher, Hermione and Draco were completely alone. She stormed right up to him, and scowled. He wasn't looking at her again. She hated that.

"Look at me." She hissed. He was smug as he cocked his head upwards to her. She continued before he could "I don't know what you think you're doing. What you'll accomplish by doing whatever this," she waved her hand around the room, "–is, but it's not going to work. Yesterday was..."

"Blissful? Incredible? Breathtaking?" He smirked.

"A mistake." She muttered, lowering her voice. Don't think about last night. Nothing happened. "Tell me, did you plant those thoughts in my head? Manipulate me with your Jedi mind tricks into cooperating with your scheme? Did you plan the whole night out, up to the... vibrations?"

"Jedi?"

"Muggle reference. Forget it." She shook her head, forgetting that he was completely ignorant to any of her cultural experiences. No movies– she found it truly odd that wizards had moving pictures, but no television. No films. "Answer the question."

He sighed, closing the book. It was a transfiguration textbook. She realized it was upside down. He hadn't been reading at all. "I can't control your thoughts, Granger, only read them. But to further answer your question, the one you so badly want to ask: I haven't been snooping around that brilliant head of yours."

"I find that hard to believe," Hermione glared.

"I'll admit I've done it once or twice to figure out the answer to a question." He admitted. "But you always end up with a headache afterwards."

"You complete arse." She seethed, wishing he had lied instead. She would have known it was a lie, but the truth was still worse. How dare he invade her privacy like that? What gave him the right? How many times had he been first to raise his hand simply because she knew the answer?

"I find it hard to believe that you haven't even researched Legilimency enough to know how its side effects." He replied. "If I was barging in on your daydreams on a regular basis you'd be in the infirmary with a migraine every moment of every day."

She blinked. She could count on one hand the number of times she'd experienced a migraine before. None were severe enough for her to make the tip to ask Madam Pomfrey for a relief potion.

"Believe me. If I didn't pity the look on your face when your head begins to throb, I'd have read you like a book by now." He whispered, leaning forward.

Hermione stared at the wall behind him, attempting to ignore the implications of the statement. Don't blush. She heard footsteps from the hallway– approaching. There were voices. It was a group.

"But last night–"

"You let in like an old friend, Granger. It doesn't hurt with permission." He smirked, and turned to face the blackboard, first glancing towards the door.

It creaked open and Hermione scampered to her seat. She didn't believe him. She would never let Draco Malfoy inside her head. He hadn't asked when she'd thought of him and his Slytherin groupies, or of potions class while he kissed her. And how could he speak to her like that? The startling whispers only she could hear, clear as day, vibrating around her skull– she hadn't let him do that. How did he do that?

She wondered how it worked, the telepathic communication. Like a game of telephone? Could she intrude on his thoughts too? Could she fill his brain with images of spiders and snakes and figure out his greatest fear? No, he wasn't afraid of snakes– he'd used one in the duel with Harry a few years ago. Now that she thought about it, he'd always been advanced when it came to his spellwork. How was he so advanced?

The questions spiraled through her mind. She didn't pay attention when McGonagall entered the room in feline form. The witch transformed back into a human and Hermione didn't even flinch.

Can you hear me? Maybe she could do it. Maybe it would work. If Malfoy could intrude on her thoughts, how hard could it be?

Go away Granger.

So it worked.

It's not that complicated, don't flatter yourself. We already had a line.

Like a telephone line? Is this a brain call? She kicked herself for being so awkward. What a stupid thing to say.

What the hell is a telephone, Granger?

Do you not pay attention in Muggle Studies? She scoffed aloud, and then prayed no one could hear it.

It was an elective. Why would I pay attention? I had Theo do all my homework. Bloody overachiever, that one. You two would get on if– what was it you said? If we didn't buy into the "propaganda."

She remembered then that she was a muggle born, and that he was a pureblood who hated her kind and she shivered at the thought. He likely still thought she was the scum on the bottom of his shoe. She shook her head and turned to McGonagall. Had she been staring at him?

The professor was looking directly at her. Their eyes met and then the witch turned away, back to the class. She asked a question. Hermione did not raise her hand. Draco Malfoy did.

"It's a quick swish to the right and then an angled downwards motion, Professor."

McGonagall looked at her again. Hermione's eyes widened. "Very good, Mr. Malfoy, three points to Slytherin. Miss Granger, could you tell me what the incantation to transfigure an animal to a flower is?"

She swallowed and wracked her brain to remember the text, as she had not been paying the lesson any mind. "Animalis flaura."

The older witch smiled thinly. "And three points to Gryffindor."

Then she asked Harry a question and Hermione tried her best to stay focused. Parvati Patil, her table mate, gave her a look.

You said it wrong, Granger. It's floor-ra not fl-ow-ra. You sound like a bloody American.

Hermione cringed and wondered if McGonagall had already pronounced the incantation during the period of time she had lectured. Then she saw it was written on the board. 'Floor-ra.'

Perhaps if you weren't so distracted...

An image attempted to creep into her mind. She squeezed her eyes shut and successfully blocked it. Malfoy. She warned.

Was worth a try Granger. I'm sure it'd be a real sight to watch you squirm.

Her cheeks grew warm.

I despise you.

The feeling is mutual, believe me.

They were silent for the rest of the class, but Hermione was still unfocused. When McGonagall dismissed the students, she asked Hermione to stay behind. Busted, Granger, Draco taunted. She told him to shut it and collected her books from the table.

"Hermione, are you feeling quite alright?" McGonagall cooed the second they were alone, like a mother speaking to her own child. That wasn't normal. "You seem... preoccupied."

Hermione wracked her brain for an excuse, and decided to stick with, "I'm feeling a little bit under the weather, Professor."

"You're flushed, Miss Granger. Do you know if you have a fever? Perhaps a trip to the infirmary would help?" The older witch offered, but Hermione shook her head. She knew Madam Pomfrey would send her straight to class without symptoms, and the worst possible scenario could occur– a detection spell would reveal her concealment charms along her neck and chest.

"I believe I'll be alright, Professor. Just a more little rest tonight and perhaps a quick tea from the kitchens will do the trick."

"I sure hope so." The witch gave her another thin smile. Something was... off. Hermione hoped with all her might that McGonagall hadn't noticed her staring at Draco Malfoy. That would be hard to explain.

They exchanged a silent goodbye and Hermione turned to walk away. She was halfway to the door when McGonagall said, "Tell Mr. Malfoy he had a paper due two days ago, won't you?"

Hermione nearly crawled out of her own skin. She sped out of the room, awkwardly fumbling with the door handle.

...

The rest of the day became increasingly difficult as Hermione realized that she would have to be alone with Malfoy once again tonight. She didn't want to think about the kitchen counter or the dark green boxer briefs he had worn; the feeling of his palm on her bare breast– no, the thoughts never crossed her mind at all.

Malfoy stared at her from across the room in Arithmancy. She felt it, but he would divert his eyes when she turned to face him. Snape seemed to have learned his lesson with yesterday's explosion, so she was paired with Theodore Nott instead, who was and always had been– respectfully– the hottest man at Hogwarts. That was difficult, since she had already been in a mood all day.

"Merlin, Granger, would you please stir the potion and stop staring out the window like a ? If you kill me with another one of your explosions, I will haunt you and only you until the day I finally decide to go to the light." Theo groaned, and rested his hand on top of hers, forcing her to stir their burn paste quicker.

"You'd be more likely to die at the hands of Draco Malfoy than me, Nott." She chuckled. "Let's pray that he makes it through class without blowing up his cauldron."

"Blame it on the pureblood," Nott joked. "That always works."

"How many toad's eyes do you have?" She asked seriously.

He looked down blankly. "One, two, three... Four I think. That's what the thing says isn't it?"

She stared at him. "You think?"

"Well, yeah, it's all paste now, so I can't exactly count them out, Granger."

"Slytherins." She groaned and snatched up his chopping board. She found the bin in the room and scraped the toad's eyes into it.

"Hey, I worked hard on that!" Nott called from across the room. Eyes turned towards him.

Hermione glanced at Malfoy, his eyes were on her. Do any of you even read the text?

What did Theo do now? He glanced like he didn't doubt her for a second.

She chuckled, walking back towards her partner. Eye of fucking toad. She groaned with irritation, hoping he could hear.

Should've let him blow it up. Invite him to the kitchens.

Hermione choked on air and peeked at the brown-haired, hazel-eyed boy to her right. Theo shot her a suspicious glance. She averted her eyes and pushed away the mental image of Theodore Nott and Draco Malfoy alone with her at the same time. Her cheeks flushed.

"Do it again," She forced out.

"I don't want to." He sat down and crossed his arms nonchalantly. "You rejected my bloody eyeballs, do it yourself."

"Theodore, I'm stirring, remember?"

"You sound like my bloody mother, Granger." He huffed and stood in a visibly begrudging manner. He picked up the knife in his large, veiny hand and began smashing four eyes into a paste. Hermione was distracted by his hands, and forgot to stir the potion. It bubbled loudly. "Granger." He warned without looking up from his chopping board.

She snapped her head back towards the cauldron and stirred with all her might. She told herself to look anywhere else and think of gruesome, ugly things to dull the warmth inside. It was as if her activities from the previous night had broken a dam and now every drop of holed up tension was spilling out of her all at once. Control yourself, she scolded her own brain.

"You've got a little something on your neck, Granger. Weasley giving you hell?" Theo had been staring at her. She met his eyes– hers were wide, his gleamed at the sight of something, which– she realized– could only be one something.

"Damn," she muttered under her breath and stared at the floor. Her concealment charm was lifting. She brushed her hair forward, but Theo reached out and pushed it back.

"No, no, you've got to let me look at it now– looks like a bloody leech drained your blood, all purple and–"

"Shut up Nott, shouldn't you be smashing eyeballs right now?"

"It's like ten times darker than a normal love bite, Granger. Weasley must be one hell of a bedmate." The boy smirked, forced to lean down to be at eye level with her. He chuckled and her blush grew darker.

"Ron is with Lavender, for your information, and I'm sure he'd be rubbish in bed, Nott." She blurted, slightly louder than she'd planned. Heads at the neighboring table shot up. She prayed internally that Ron and Harry hadn't heard.

"Whew-hew Granger, hit a sore spot, yeah?" Theo sucked air through his teeth and lowered his voice. "So who's the blood-sucking rebound then?" He whispered with a wink. "Potter's with the weasel sister and Thomas and that other pyromaniac– what's his name, Seamus is it? He blows things up just as much as you do."

Hermione decided now was not the time to remind him that Malfoy was the one to cause the explosion.

"Anyways, they're the only other logical choices, but they're two whole fruits in a basket right now, so that leaves about zero Gryffindor candidates. The rest are hideous, really."

Nott's head was cocked now. She stirred furiously and glared at the cauldron.

How could she explain to her childhood crush that she did not get the love bites from a Gryffindor or a Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff without telling him that she had nearly shagged his best friend– turning him into what they'd call a blood traitor in the process. Truly, she had no idea why Theodore Nott was so interested in her sex life all of a sudden, when they had rarely spoken greetings, let alone intimate secrets before.

Malfoy. Care to help?

No answer.

Theo was waiting for an answer from her though, so she mustered her best voice and said, "It's none of your business, Nott."

He leaned down further, "And why is that? Scared to admit the precious little Golden girl let someone get it in?"

"There was 'no getting it in,' you don't know what you're talking about." She couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes. "Add the eyes before the potion explodes."

Theo scraped his paste into the cauldron and grabbed his own wand to cast a stirring charm. "Allow me." She obliged and wished he would shut up. He didn't. "So you're telling me he did all that," his left hand nearly touched her neck. She tensed. "Poor bloke left with blue balls, Granger. Blue balls."

Theo tsked like he felt physical pain.

Malfoy. Your friend.

No answer. But she saw the blonde staring at her with a scrunched up face– lips pressed in a thin line. Are you really about to laugh right now, you absolute prick?

And then Malfoy let out a hearty laugh, the first genuine laugh she'd heard in public since God knows when. The entire class stopped to stare at him, except for Theo. Odd. Malfoy quickly covered, pretending he had dropped his supplies, and glanced up at everyone.

"What are you lot looking at, ey?" Malfoy retorted loudly. She'd forgotten how mean he could be. The class went back to work.

"Real wanker, Malfoy." Theo whispered to her.

She stammered. "What?"

"He can be such a git sometimes."

"Sometimes? Aren't you supposed to be best friends?"

Theo chuckled again, still stirring. His eyes were on her neck again. "Oh we are, Granger. Still doesn't change the fact that he's a prick."

"At least you've got a brain in there Nott."

"Please, Granger, call me Theo." He smiled at her. The potion was done. He removed his wand from the cauldron, and used his other hand to wipe it off. She grimaced. If they'd followed one single instruction wrong, burn paste could become burning paste, and it would– well– burn him.

"You realize you called me Granger in that same sentence, right?" She raised an eyebrow, ignoring him. Not looking at him. Not noticing how charming his little grin was. Not wanting to be on a first name basis with someone she'd often considered the idea of shagging.

"I know your name, Hermione, it's just a right mouthful. Too many syllables, really." He ran a hand through his hair. It was the one with the burn paste on it. She winced again.

"Nott, your hand–"

"Theo." He corrected her.

"Theo, your hand. It has burn paste on it. It could burn you..." She gave in to the urge to snatch his hand away from his cheek, which he was about to scratch.

She held Theodore Nott's hand in hers now, and retrieved a cloth from the table to wipe it with. She was certain her cheeks were bright as day now, but she hoped they'd been that way long enough he'd think it was warmth from the fire. "Merlin, does Malfoy babysit you? I can't imagine that was your first time." She shook her head, wiping furiously at his hand.

There she went with accidental double entendres again. She looked up, praying he hadn't noticed, but a smirk had formed over his face.

"He does, actually." The smirk was audible in his voice. He leaned in and his lips brushed her ear as he whispered to her. "Unless he's off snogging witches in the kitchens, of course."

Malfoy. Hermione could only hiss at the legilimens. Her head ached.

Maybe that was something he did often– what had happened last night. Maybe Theo just knew Malfoy's tactics. Maybe they shared tips on how to seduce women. That was something boys did, right? Maybe they bragged about whose pants they got into before they went to sleep at night. But a mudblood? There was no way Malfoy would brag about nearly shagging a mudblood to another member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Especially not her.

"Something he does often?" She played it off. Might as well gain intel, she thought to herself.

"Not really, no. I, on the other hand, have found the kitchens to be quite–" He leaned back again, breath gracing her ear. "Adequate, for that sort of thing." His fingers played with a strand of her hair now.

"Oh?" She breathed, her mind completely blank aside from intrusive thoughts. Thoughts about the brown haired boy standing only inches away from her. Theodore Nott. Theodore. Nott.

"Mhmm." He whispered, eyes flicking towards her mouth. She was convinced that was all in her head.

She looked around nervously. Avoid his eyes, avoid his eyes. No one was even looking at them. "Oh they still see me stirring the potion and you reading the textbook, Granger. Don't worry."

"H-How?" was all she could muster the words to say.

"It's a little spell I learned. Works a lot better than your rubbish concealment charm, I'll tell you that." He twirled her curl around his finger like a string. "Your hair is surprisingly softer than it looks Granger, you must tell me what you use in it."

"Uh– Muggle shampoo. Conditioner."

"Hmm, remind me to invest in whichever brand you use. Smells heavenly too. " He smirked.

"Theo." Someone chimed in.

Hermione snapped her head towards the voice. It was Malfoy.

"I can see you in her head Theo. Your concealment charm does nothing."

Hermione mentally cursed him and warned him to stay out of her thoughts, reminding him about the permission he'd been so adamant he needed. He hadn't lied though, her head really did throb now.

Theo let go of her hair and sighed. "I wasn't going to bite her, Malfoy. You did that enough for the both of us." His smirk was still wide. He looked at Malfoy and winked.

Hermione coughed.

"Warmed her up for you, that's all."

She seethed, "You actually told THEODORE NOTT, Draco?"

"My name sounds good in your mouth, Hermione." Theo chimed in, imitating Draco's voice. Hermione shot a glare in his direction. How did he even know about that?

"He's–"

"Your best friend does not need to know about–"

"Him finger fucking you in the kitchens? That's definitely pertinent information, Granger. I definitely think–"

"Shut the fuck up, Theo." She hissed, doing her best to keep her voice down.

"I don't think I will, thank you very much. You are not my–"

"Shut the fuck up, Theo." Draco barked. His attention turned back towards Hermione. "Granger I really don't think you have any right to tell me who to tell about our little adventures seeing as you likely would rather take the secret to your grave than–"

"So you're just boasting about the fact that you creamed your pants over a mudblood? I'm sure mummy and daddy will be–"

"I told you not to talk about my family, Granger." Malfoy growled. Theo laughed from beside them, they both glared. "And besides, you hardly touched me long enough to draw prec–" His eyes darted away from her. He cleared his throat and his eyes hardened.

"Come to save the day, Weasley?" His glare was ice cold, but he smirked. Hermione waved her wand ever so slightly, attempting to cast a concealment charm on her neck before anyone Ronald Weasley could question her about her hickeys.

"You alright, Hermione?" Ron put a hand on her shoulder and she shrugged it off, reeling at his touch. She did not want to talk to him. He'd caused her enough stress for a lifetime.

"Fine, thank you Ronald." She tensed. "Malfoy's trying to blow up my potion again, that's all." Her excuse left a twinkle in Theo's eyes and he pressed his lips shut like he was holding back a retort.

Ron turned his eyes to the two Slytherins and said, "Bugger off, the two of you."

"I'm fine Ron–"

"Don't let your girl toy see you with your hands on another witch, Weaselbee. Might actually smother you when she goes to sit on your face next time, ey?" Theo quipped. Hermione snorted but knew Ron's reaction would inevitably be a bad one. She winced when Ron's fist collided with Theo's cheek. He raised his arm to do it again.

"Ronald, that is enough!" Hermione hissed. Ron stilled, his fist in midair– he looked at her suspiciously.

"I deserved that one, I'll admit. Good right hook, Weasley. You should consider boxing." Theo chuckled nonchalantly, head cocked awkwardly from the blow of Ron's punch, but he seemed entirely unbothered.

What's boxing? It was Draco's voice. She almost laughed before she saw Snape floating towards them from across the room.

"Nott, Weasley, since you seem so adamant on interrupting my class with a schoolyard spat, I'm sure you won't mind joining Ms. Granger and Mr. Malfoy in detention tonight." Snape drawled.

Hermione wanted to scream.

"Oh I don't mind Professor. I think that's a wonderful idea," Theodore's snarky response broke the awkward silence between the four of them.

"Watch your mouth, Nott. And you," He jabbed his finger towards Ron. "Weasley, you just lost your house twenty points. We do not condone violence here."

Ron had been acting like a lunatic since he'd first announced he and Lavender were officially a couple. He was violent, and riddled with rage– the slightest of inconveniences or misunderstandings could set him off. She didn't even recognize him any more. But now he'd just ruined her unplanned rendezvous with Draco Malfoy.

I'm going to kill him. Hermione thought.

I'll do it for you, Granger. Might warrant a favor in return of course. Draco's eyes never left Snape as his voice filled her head. The greasy-haired professor was still lecturing Ron about the incredulousness of his actions.

Get out of my head, you prick. She shot a glare in the blonde's direction.

Snape glanced at her. "Weasley, you will meet me after class, I have a special reward for your insubordination. The rest of you will meet me after dinner. Eight p.m. sharp. A second later and I will deduct five house points per minute you waste."

They all groaned. Hermione saw Ron clench and unclench his fists. Git.

Snape dismissed the class and Hermione rushed to clean her cauldron. The second she and Theo had finished she ran out of the classroom. She just wanted to avoid everyone: Theo, Draco, Ron– hell, even Harry. She was in no kind of mood for social interactions.

Her feet took her to the one place she knew she'd be alone– the library. On a Friday, hardly anyone would even consider studying in the dim, disturbingly quiet area. She exhaled with relief when she found the room empty. She dropped her books on a table and slumped in the chair, running her hands through her curls to smooth them.

"This place is a right ol' bore, you know that?" A voice made her leap from her sitting position.

She looked up. Theodore Nott was in the seat adjacent to her.

He grinned.

She groaned.