Her broken-hearted Veela
Chapter XI: Revenge
…
"Enough is enough."
…
As Harry had predicted, Felix Felicis was indeed the potion they'd be brewing, and much to everyone's surprise, Slughorn announced that the best brewed potion would be prized with two flasks of Liquid Luck, one for each student. The elder professor had two reserved bottles which he had brewed himself little over half a year ago. The aim was to motivate his students to prepare the concoction as precisely as possible, since even the smallest of mistakes could result in disastrous consequences.
Pairing up, Draco and Hermione met at their table, bringing the cauldron and the required ingredients along with them. Once they were set, they divided the tasks required for boiling the potion and got to work. Draco watched her as she worked: Her ability to focus and to separate her personal life from her academic interests was a quality the Veela greatly admired. Even though she was visibly quite shaken, his mate did everything she could to concentrate on the task and work as efficiently and diligently as she could.
Ever his brave, little Gryffindor.
An hour into the brewing process, the Slytherin Prince and the Gryffindor Princess were reaching the final steps. Up until that point, the viscosity and the colour of the potion looked excellent, and both were hoping to keep that up.
"Can you pass me the Occamy eggshell?" Malfoy asked her, "I'm going to grind it up."
She handed it over to him, her fingertips lightly grazing over his open palm, "Have you added the thyme?"
"A dash of it, yes. And I've stirred it as well." Draco then decided to tease her a little, lightening the mood, "My, Granger, have you not been paying attention?"
Hermione scoffed at him, "What kind of question is that?"
"That would be a 'yes' or 'no' question."
"Sod off, Malfoy."
"So… Is that a no?" He kept on teasing her.
"Why, you…! Of course I've been paying attention!"
"Honestly, you could have fooled me. How does one miss their potions' partner stirring the cauldron?"
"Oh, be quiet. I was just extremely busy grinding the common rue into fine powder."
"Common rue, you say? Let me check."
The common rue piqued Draco's interest. Taking a step towards her, he took a pinch of the powder and slid it through his fingers, taking an attentive look as the grains were sprinkled back into the porcelain mortar. Once again, he was very close to her, and she couldn't help but to take a closer, more detailed look at him: His expression was so gathered on the rue granules falling from his fingers, revealing the slightest of frowns that she had never seen on his face. He was critically inspecting her work with high interest, judging the quality of the powder based on his own knowledge about potions. Unbeknownst to him, Draco was showing her his more studious side, a side of him which unveiled how he had been able to nearly match up to her grades. Unbeknownst to her, Hermione found herself being fond of it.
"Not bad, Granger. However, there are some granules of powder which are still too raw around the edges. Did you rotate the pestle all the way around while grinding the rue, or did you just press and crush?"
"Pressed and crushed."
"I thought as much. There are ingredients for which pressing and crushing is enough, however, the common rue is not one of them. You need to rotate the pestle when grinding, so that you'll get a homogenously powdered mixture in the end. Here, let me show you."
Gently taking the mortar and pestle from her hands, Draco showed Hermione his technique, and explained it to her in great detail, making sure she understood. Once more, Hermione was mesmerised by the dedication Draco put into brewing potions, truly displaying his passion about knowledge, quite like her. She was enthralled by how much of a helpful potions partner he proved to be.
"Did Snape also teach you that one?"
"Not as evil as the man who you Gryffindors make him out to be, hm?" He inspected the consistency of the powder once more, not being quite satisfied with the result, and went back to grind the powder, "But yes, he did in fact teach me that one, as well. I had to write the same list of crushable ingredients on a piece of parchment over and over again, until I had not only memorised, but interiorised it."
"Do you realise the irony of what you just told me?"
Draco rolled his eyes.
"Don't tell me you would really classify that as evil, Granger. Umbridge was evil for forcing students to use blood quills as punishment. Snape merely told me I had to do it if I wanted to excel at potions, which I aimed for. So, ultimately, it was up to me to write that list, not Snape." Draco checked the rue one last time, finally satisfied with the texture, "That'll do."
After the rue had been finely powdered, Malfoy proceeded to grind the Occamy eggshells, while Granger was occupied with the stirring and the heating up of the cauldron. Once the brewing process was done, the Gryffindor cast a Felixempra on the potion as the final step, and so Felix Felicis would distillate for the next six months.
…
No one was really surprised when Professor Slughorn announced that Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy had been the ones to win the Liquid Luck. The old teacher congratulated them as well as urged them to use the serum sparingly and responsibly, reminding them that otherwise, the consequences of their acts would be atrocious.
Taking the potion from Slughorn's hand, Malfoy took a look over his shoulder to see Zabini, who was standing right behind him. Draco nodded at Blaise and quickly used Legilimency on him to tell him to meet after all of their classes were done for that day. Taking into consideration that his best friend had helped him a great deal with McLaggen, and overall with him being an animalistic Veela, the blonde thought it was only fair to return the favour.
At the same time, Hermione took the tiny vial and briefly looked over at Harry. The Boy Who Lived gave her a decisive nod. It was obvious to them that they would be using Felix Felicis for their forthcoming Horcrux hunt. They would need enormous amounts of luck to destroy them and achieve peace in the Wizarding World.
They could do it. Harry, her and…
Ron…?
A strong sense of selfishness ran through her spine when the thought of using Felix Felicis to help her cope with Ron during the Horcrux hunt crossed her mind. She wondered. Would Lavender allow Ron to come with them? Would Lavender, who wasn't precisely known for her intelligence, join them in their mission? Would the Golden Trio split up as a consequence?
The realisation hit her like a ton of bricks: The 'Golden Trio' had been reduced to 'The Golden Duo'. Now it was only Harry and herself.
Hermione held her breath.
Harry.
Oh.
She hadn't told Harry.
As grief and pain filled her broken heart, Hermione had told Draco. She hadn't truly been thinking. She had been blinded by bitterness, and it had just slipped out of her. In turn, that led to Malfoy suggesting revenge as an option, and as much as she dreaded to admit, she was seriously considering it. She was truly contemplating asking what the blonde had in mind, should she decide to be vindictive.
"Weasley chose a shag over years of friendship." His voice resonated in her mind once more.
The Golden Girl brusquely shook her head, rapidly dismissing that absurd thought, even though her eyes burnt with angry tears threatening to roll down her cheeks. She shut her eyes close, preventing the tears from falling down her face.
'Breathe, breathe, breathe.' She thought to herself, aiming to calm down, 'Slughorn just told us. Felix Felicis needs to be used responsibly. Using it for Ron isn't responsible. I don't need it. I don't need this potion.'
She didn't need that potion to help her overcome the crippling anxiety of having to tell Harry that Ron and her weren't friends any longer.
"He chose Brown, did he not?"
She didn't need that potion to mend her currently shattered emotions.
"…He deliberately chose to hurt you, Hermione."
She didn't need that potion to help her sew her ruptured heart.
"Do you plan on seeking revenge?"
What was it, that she needed, then?
'I… I need…'
Slughorn's voice pulled her out of her dark thoughts, making her gasp and regain her sense of reality.
"I hope you keep up the good work. Speaking of which, my dear students, I would like for you to write an essay about the possible effects of the Garish Pink Blended Poison and its antidote. Please work together with your potions' partner, and be sure to hand it in until Friday evening, so that I'll have them corrected by next Monday. Now, off you go to your next classes."
…
Draco and Hermione quickly set up a time and a place to write the essay. It didn't go unnoticed by the Veela that she had just had a mild panic attack, and although he wanted to pull her in to his protective embrace, he managed to keep his distance. It was obvious to him that she was conflicted with herself, bickering with the idea of retaliation. Draco reckoned she must've been dealing with a great amount of stress if she was still pondering about it. In a relaxed, healthy state of mind; in a scenario where everything was peaceful, it would not have taken her even a millisecond to discard the idea.
And yet, there she was, considering it.
She needed time and space. And he would give it to her.
Until Thursday after class.
In the library, of course.
…
That evening, Zabini and Malfoy met at that narrow corner near Flitwick's office, their usual spot. Sliding their backs down the wall, they sat down on the floor. Then, Malfoy pulled the flask of Felix Felicis out of his pocket and handed it to Zabini.
The Italian took the vial and looked at it, twisting it around his fingers, careful that it wouldn't slip. His gaze pierced through the transparent liquid, lost at some random point in the distant hall. Blaise was lost in thought, and he looked like something was bothering him.
After a minute sitting there in silence, Blaise couldn't contain the need to ask the Veela: "Are you sure you want to give me the potion?"
The blonde nodded, "Take it as my way of thanking you for all of the Veela troubles. I know they can get rather intense."
"Yeah, no shit." Zabini snickered. His grin quickly faded, and he was silent for a minute. Then he sighed again, somewhat defeated, "But I can't shake the feeling that I shouldn't be accepting it."
Draco frowned.
"What? Why? After dealing with McLaggen, it's the least that I can do to make it up to you."
"And I appreciate the gesture, Malfoy."
"But?"
"But you're my best mate."
"And?"
"And you're running out of time. You should keep it."
"Ah, there's my weekly reminder of my race against time. Thanks, Zabini, I appreciate that." He scoffed dryly, as he rolled his eyes. "But, care to elaborate where you're going with this? What's Felix Felicis got to do with anything? I thought you'd be thrilled, I wasn't expecting you to be dramatic about it."
Again, Blaise fell silent. He wanted to choose his words wisely and needed a moment to think about them.
"You know how your parents talked to mine, and my parents talked to me? About you being a Veela and that."
"You mentioned it, yes."
"They told me you could die of a broken heart if-"
Draco raised his hand, abruptly interrupting him, "-I know the 'if'. Don't say it."
"Alright, I won't say it. But my point is," He stirred the potion, "You could use it to woo Granger."
He was rather taken aback by the idea, since the Veela did not want to fool with Granger's love and emotions. He desired to be loved by her in a real, pure manner, just like he loved her: Unapologetically. Unconditionally. Eternally.
If he wanted her love, he'd have to earn it.
"No." Draco shook his head, "That would be a prime example of using Felix Felicis irresponsibly, and that could risk any chance I might have with her."
"I see."
There were many questions going through Zabini's mind. He understood that Malfoy was a Veela and that he was madly in love with Granger, and that he needed her to love him back in order to survive. So, what he didn't understand was why he was refusing to use Felix Felicis as a way to make it happen. It was as if he didn't really care that he was bound to die, should Granger reject him. Zabini couldn't help but wonder if Malfoy was as anxious as he was, knowing that if time were to win that race, his best friend would die.
"Hey, Malfoy?"
"Hm?"
"Are you afraid to die?"
Draco took a couple of minutes to answer to his question. He hadn't been expecting Felix Felicis to induce such a topic of conversation, yet there they were.
"Not… directly. I'm terrified of what it might feel like if she… You know. That." He took a deep breath in, "But if it means that she made that decision of her own will, then I'm alright with it."
Silence filled their hidden spot. Everything around them slowed down. The background chatter of the other students who were passing somewhere nearby became distant. The Italian felt his shoulders become tense, and he looked over at Draco, trying to make sense of what the blonde had just told him. He tried, but he couldn't understand.
"You're my best friend, Draco." Blaise solemnly told him, "I don't want you to die."
"You want me to use Felix Felicis to get Granger, so that I remain alive, I know." He paused briefly and looked at him, determination gleaming in his grey eyes, "But do you realise the selfishness of your request?"
"Selfishness? Care to explain to me how I'm being selfish? I've helped you with your little mission concerning McLaggen, in case you've forgotten-"
"-Which is why I'm giving you Felix Felicis in the first fucking place-"
"-I'd be selfish if I hadn't done anything to stop you from killing McLaggen on the spot! You'd probably be rotting in fucking Azkaban if it weren't for me, Draco!"
"Oh, please. How very fucking Gryffindor of you." Draco spat at him, "'If it weren't for me, you'd be rotting in Azkaban, you should be thanking me'. I didn't ask for your help in the first place. You cornered me, right fucking here, and told me that you'd keep an eye on me. I didn't ask you to do that."
"And I will continue to do so because you're my best friend, you stubborn fuck!" Zabini almost yelled out in frustration, exasperated, "I'd be selfish if I knew about your current situation and let you be on your own to die anyway-"
"Zabini, you're missing the fucking point!"
"Well, then, enlighten me, because I don't understand!How am I being selfish?"
"You're being selfish because you're thinking about how you to keep your best friend alive so that you won't suffer. So that you won't have to carry the burden of missing me. You're selfish, because you're not thinking about what it would mean for me, a fucking Veela, to be alive knowing that what Granger feels is a fucking lie!"
"A lie? Draco, we're not talking about a love potion." Zabini pinched the bridge of her nose, annoyed, "That is not what Felix Felicis is for."
"Sweet fucking Salazar, Blaise, who do you take me for? I know that's not what Felix Felicis is for."
"Then what's this fuss about? What you're saying only makes sense if you were to employ Amortentia and not Felix Felicis!"
"Again, Blaise, I'm a Veela. When it comes to my Hermione, I'll do anything for her. Anything that doesn't involve messing with her feelings. Everything she feels, I feel. If I were to take Felix Felicis and it went wrong, it would hurt her badly, and as a consequence, it would genuinely torture me."
"But what if it worked?" A sparkle of hope could be heard in Zabini's voice.
"If it worked, I would overthink every single day if she feels the way she feels because of my love for her, or because I took Felix Felicis. It wouldn't feel real to me, and I'd be condemned to live with that mind torture until the day I died. I would become insane."
Zabini instantly paled.
"What?" His voice was now shaken and quiet.
Draco sighed. It seemed like Blaise finally understood.
"Blaise, trust me, I get it. You don't want me to die, and I appreciate the sentiment. But Magic has chosen her for me. I can't fight it. There is nothing I can do to fight it. I can only try and show her that I'm worthy."
Draco stood up and Blaise followed suit. The blonde patted him on the shoulder and grinned at him apologetically, which was his typical way of saying sorry whenever they picked up a fight. Zabini would follow by insulting him in Italian, and then they'd be on good terms again.
"Sei uno stupido cazzo biondo, Malfoy." Zabini smirked back at him
"Ah, yes. A stupid blonde fuck. An absolute classic." He applauded him, and then eyed him carefully, "Are we even, now?"
"You know it." Zabini ruffled Malfoy's hair, "At least until you tell me how you're keeping up with Granger."
"Being her partner in potions helps. I'm meeting with her on Thursday evening for the Pink Poison assignment."
"Well, then. Don't fuck up your date with her."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
…
Her feet were leading her to the library. The sound of her steps echoed in her ears, lulling her into a deep sea of thoughts.
The brunette thought about Horcruxes. Up until that point, they only had a hint of Salazar Slytherin's Locket being hidden away at the Crystal Cave.
Hermione frowned, as she speculated that, since Horcruxes seemed to hold a wicked meaning for the Dark Lord, Nagini and Tom Riddle's personal diary would be Horcruxes, as well. She sincerely hoped that Liquid Luck would help their cause, as they would need as much luck as possible to discover what the other Horcruxes were.
She had discussed these matters with Harry, and he agreed with her, telling her that he had seen Nagini in his dreams, more often now than ever. It led him to believe that an irrefutable connection existed between Voldemort's snake and a Horcrux. They talked about planning on getting to Nagini, but at the mention of Ron's part, Hermione was visibly uncomfortable and taken aback. This led to a rather sad conversation, in which she had gathered all her strength and told Harry the truth.
He had to take responsibility for his own actions, she'd heard herself say.
For minutes on end, the Boy Who Lived had said nothing, processing the information she'd given him. He was equally livid, as he was saddened and confused by the situation, not ready to believe that Ron would have given up on such beautiful friendship so easily. Harry felt for Hermione, and pulled her in for a hug, as he offered to talk some sense into Ron. When she politely declined, Harry asked her, without any malice, if she was planning to do something about it.
And there it was, once again: Malfoy's voice resonating in her head:
"Let me ask you again: Do you plan on doing anything about it? Do you plan on seeking revenge?"
Malfoy…
One thought led to another, and she discovered herself thinking about Malfoy again. She'd been thinking about him since the last time she'd seen him in potions, and quite frequently at that.
If she was being honest with herself, Hermione had been looking forward to the meeting with Draco. Having seen his more studious side, her curiosity peaked, and it needed to become satisfied. After all, it seemed that Malfoy was indeed quite bright, it wasn't only him boosting up his ego. There was, if ever so slightly, truth to all of the gloating about his intelligence.
For a fraction of a second, Hermione felt herself wanting to uncover some of the enigmatic mysteries surrounding Draco. She was dazed at the many stark contrasting sides of him: He could be an insufferable bully and at the same time, he could be a true gentleman. He could give witty responses to anything she said, but she had recently discovered that he was capable of empathy and of listening, as well. Draco's persona radiated something entirely different to what he'd emanated years before. His mannerisms towards her were not as cold, nor as malicious anymore. Quite the opposite, in fact. He at times appeared to be playful, in some other instances he would seem empathetic with her. In all honesty, she was under the impression that he wanted to be friendly with her.
Before she could finish that thought, her feet reached her destination: The entrance of the library. She looked up, and to her surprise, Malfoy was already waiting for her, looking impeccable and not rushed at all. He remembered her tendency of being overly timely on any of her appointments.
"Hello, Granger. Lead the way."
…
After having found a quiet spot, the Gryffindor and the Slytherin quickly got to writing. Their strategy was simple, yet effective. First, they would write their essays separately, and once they were done, they would merge their results together in one piece of parchment, ensuring that they got their deserved 'Outstanding'.
The learning atmosphere could not be better: The droplets of the rain quietly tapping on the window helped her concentrate. The sound of flipping a thin page in a book calmed her nerves. The sensation of writing on a piece of parchment with a fresh, crisp quill sent pleasant tingles to the back of her neck, easing the tension on her shoulders. The soft light in the library made her feel comfortable and warm. Hermione was relaxed, and the Veela was at peace with himself.
Once they had separately gathered information on the Garish Pink Blended Poison and its antidote, they quietly conversed about what was relevant or trivial and about the key points that needed to be in the essay. Poignant arguments were being made on both sides, and it was quite refreshing to lead such a debate with someone who, both dared to challenge the intellect of the other, as well as matched the fervour with which the points were being made. – Such an enjoyable experience.
After a couple of hours of quietly writing and debating about their results, they were finally done with the assignment. Draco put down his quill, pulled up his sleeves and stretched his arms.
"Well," He said, lazily, "This poison calls for a round of hypotheticals."
Hermione arched an eyebrow at him.
"Hypotheticals?"
"It's a game. You ask the other what'd they hypothetically do if they were in a screwed-up situation."
"That… weirdly sounds like fun."
"It is fun." He told her, smirking, and giving her a small wink. He could've sworn she'd blushed, "Alright, Granger. Let's see your true wits put to the test. Hypothetically, if you were forced to use the Garish Pink Blended Poison to escape from Umbridge, how would you use it and why would you use that method?"
"Escaping from Umbridge, not bad. That is screwed up, indeed."
"That's the point."
"Well, then. That's an easy one. If I needed to use the poison on Umbridge, I'd probably pour it in her pink cup of tea, because… well. The poison's pink, and pretty much everything surrounding Umbridge is pink. There's no way she'd notice."
Malfoy raised his eyebrows in surprise and clapped his hands.
"Oh, là, là, Granger! How surprisingly Slytherin of you."
"Sod off, Malfoy."
"What? You know it's true."
"You're incorrigible." She rolled her eyes, "Well then, let's see how you'd do. Hypothetically, if you were turned into a ferret again-"
"-You've just proved my point. Also, I'm offended."
"You're offended?"
"Very much so, yes."
"Good."
"Ow, Granger! Right in my pride."
She'd lost count of how many times she'd already rolled her eyes. To her, it was amazing how Malfoy simply kept on saying things that would either infuriate her or make absolutely no sense to her whatsoever. She found herself completely dumb-founded by the amount of sheer nonsense that could come from him, and at the same time, how incredibly knowledgeable he was in the field of potions, or magic in general. – She was fascinated by him. Only a little, of course.
Before she lost her track of thought, Hermione quickly finished her hypothetical question.
"So, anyway, you're turned into a ferret again, and you need to escape from Professor Moody… In your ferret form, how would you use the garish pink poison and why would you use it that way?"
"That is actually evil, Granger."
"How did you put it? Ah, yes. That's the point. Now, answer the question, Malfoy."
"Seriously, next time we're in potions class, I'm making you a cup of Valerian tea. Sweet Salazar, calm down." He teased her, and she rolled her eyes once more, "I'm guessing I'd have the flask of poison on me, even as a ferret?"
"Yes."
"Alright, then… I'd probably crawl up his leg, bite it, and pour the poison into the wound. As a ferret, there's little else that I could do."
Hermione smiled and giggled as she pictured the scene in her mind. She couldn't deny, even if it was Malfoy, that it would make for a fun situation. A tiny, pale ferret crawling up the leg of a bulky man, probably tickling his leg. The Golden Girl bit her lower lip. Fun and a tad adorable, indeed.
Of course, only hypothetically.
She liked the game. – And he loved her smile.
Both remained in comfortable silence for a minute, until Hermione took a look out the window and saw it was already dark. She delicately closed her books, wrapped up the piece of parchment and stood up from her chair, stretching her arms. He followed suit, and then they left the library.
"I'll hand in the parchment first thing tomorrow morning." She told him, tucking a wild curly strand of hair behind her ear, "And, hey, Malfoy?"
"Hm?"
"Hypotheticals was actually quite fun." She gave him a warm smile and, Merlin, how he loved that pale coral shade of blush. "I'm glad you showed me."
"Well, then. Fancy another round as a parting gift?" Draco asked her, smiling back at her, "Just, please, don't bring ferrets into this."
Hermione laughed heartily at his joke. She felt so incredibly relaxed, she was at such ease. It felt like a spring-fresh breath of air, light, bright and clean. Feeling that rush of positive and safe emotions, the Veela felt completely ecstatic, feeling as joyful as she felt, if not even more. He smiled at her, and she noticed, he had a beautiful smile. – Hermione noticed that, when he was as relaxed as she was, Draco was astonishingly beautiful. In that moment, she was able to appreciate this unique softness in his facial features.
She had this intense feeling that it was only meant for her.
The brunette found it unbelievable that it was the blonde out of all people who made her feel that way, but she was grateful for the feeling, nonetheless. The last couple of weeks he had been slowly but surely showing her that he was capable of change. – And for that, she was grateful, as well.
"You know what? Why not. Alright, I'll start. Let's see… Okay, I've got it. Hypothetically," She started, "If you were lost in the Muggle World, and you could only contact Crabbe or Goyle with a Muggle device called a mobile phone… In order to come back to the Wizarding World, who would you contact and why?"
"Granger. Holy fuck. You are evil."
"Take that or another ferret scenario."
"Sweet mother of Salazar Slytherin, Granger. I'm impressed." Draco whistled, "But to answer your question… Even though neither of them are reliable, I probably would contact Goyle rather than Crabbe."
"And the reason being…?"
"Goyle doesn't sleep as soundly as Crabbe… And he doesn't snore as loudly. If Crabbe were to fall asleep when I needed him in such a situation, well, then I'd be absolutely screwed."
Again, Hermione laughed. The image of Malfoy desperately trying to reach a sleeping Crabbe on mobile phone was too much. She pictured him screaming at the phone and cursing like a sailor, while people passed by him and probably thought he was insane. – Once more, she found the situation to be hypothetically adorable.
"It's your turn now, Malfoy. Let's see what you come up with."
The Veela took in a deep breath. Ever since she'd had that mild panic attack, Malfoy had wanted to comfort her. Now that she was definitely relaxed, he truly hoped that he had the chance to do so. An idea popped into his mind, and he was feeling quite optimistic about it turning out as he was expecting it to.
"Alright, Granger. Do you remember when I asked you if you wanted to do something about the Weasel?"
"I…" She couldn't help but wonder why he'd brought that up, but yet again, they were playing a game about fucked-up situations, so it was only fair. She took a deep breath in before answering him, "Yes."
"Hypothetically," His voice was getting lower and quieter, as he came closer to Hermione, gently grabbing her chin and leaning in ever so slightly, "If you had decided to take revenge on Weasley, would you kiss me to get back at him?"
The Gryffindor Princess gasped, and she felt her breathing become heavy. Her honeyed gaze melted into his obsidian one, hypnotised, never daring to look away. He kept leaning in, slowly closing the distance between them, stopping short just before her rosy lips.
"Tell me, Hermione." He whispered, his lips barely brushing hers.
"I…"
"Would you kiss me?"
She felt completely intoxicated by his nearness, and her whisper came across as desperate, "Yes."
"Why?"
Finally, the angry tears she'd been holding back for so long were released. They rolled freely down her rosy cheeks, unapologetically, not caring about the fact that Malfoy had hit one of the sorest spots in her soul.
She'd had enough of Ronald's crude behaviour towards her on the last couple of months. He'd been ignoring her, making her feel uncomfortable with his constant snogging. Additionally, he had expected her to do things for him, and even forgot to ask nicely, without showing any signs of respect. She remembered one particular instance in which Ron simply slapped some parchment rolls on her table, simply informing her that: 'I've got this parchment I've got to write for Herbology. It's due on Tuesday.'
To top it all off, last weekend had been beyond catastrophic. And she had been putting up with all of it.
In an enraged, frenzied whisper, she told him: "Because I've had enough."
Suddenly, her scent was so much more intense than it had ever been, it was as if it was calling for him, calling for the Veela to lose himself in her fragrance, to let himself be fully engulfed by it. He felt completely magnetised by her unique essence, all of the control that he had managed to have up until that point suddenly vanished. The Veela within him pleaded and begged. Oh, how he needed her! How he needed to taste her sweet, delicate lips, how he needed to lose himself in her… He'd been patient for so long, he needed to release his inner creature.
In a swift motion, Draco grabbed a fist full of her unruly curls and pulled her in with one hand, as he pushed her against the wall, crushing his lips to hers, devouring her mouth. The other hand cupped her cheek, his thumb caressing her soft skin, trying to be gentle but failing at it, roughly pulling at her skin. He was so hungry, so desperate for her kisses. Hermione moaned in response, grabbing his green and silver tie and pulling him even closer to her with one hand, whilst scratching the back of his neck with the other. She matched his roughness, kissing him senseless, not caring if they were running out of breath.
She wanted it.
She needed it.
And Draco could never deny her.
…