Her Broken-Hearted Veela

Chapter XIII: Deal.

…

"Sometimes, a deal with the Devil is better than no deal at all."

…

Time was a tremendously strange concept to her.

She always wondered how it could pass so rapidly, and yet feel so slow. She'd been sitting there, her back against her bedroom's door, and her fingers still on her lips – For an entire hour. To her, it felt like an eternity being so caught up in her own mind, and like mere seconds once she came back to herself. And yet, an hour had past.

Sixty minutes!

Time was so bizarre.

Straightening up, the brunette pulled herself together and stood up from the floor. She was going to hand in the piece of parchment she and Draco had worked on and forget the entire ordeal all together. Yes. Yes, that was what she would go for. She would not overthink it. She would forget about that passionate kiss she'd shared with nonother than Draco, and that. Was. It.

Nodding to herself, Hermione left the Gryffindor Tower and headed towards Slughorn's office, a sea of thoughts plaguing her mind.

Most of all, she thought about how she would want to forget about many things. For one, she'd forget how he'd already been waiting for her in front of the library. She would forget how he sat next to her and worked diligently on their assignment; about that slight, concentrated frown drawn on his forehead as he was writing his part of the assay. She would forget how they'd played Hypotheticals and how she'd had fun. She would forget about that relaxed smile he'd shown her, and about how, just for a moment, she'd liked it. And most of all, she'd forget about their kiss – that long, passionate kiss which, after sixty minutes, still lingered on her rosy lips–, because that had been a complete waste of her time.

She'd wasted her time taking her sweet, decadent revenge on Ron. – By having had the best kiss of her whole life with Draco.

Again, she was utterly committed to not overthink it.

No.

Of course not.

Hermione was too mature to think about trivial things such as a simple kiss. In fact, she decided to change her strategy. Instead of forgetting about the kiss, she would fully acknowledge it. She had kissed Draco Malfoy, she had accepted it and now life could go on as usual. The brunette would be her usual self, devoting herself to her beloved books, and the blonde would get back to being his usual self, which meant he'd be back to being an idiot and calling her names. – Which was normal. She could work with normality.

Normality was fine.

Normality was the rule.

And she always strictly abided by the rules, as she did now, handing in the assignment for potions in Slughorn's little box in front of his office.

"But he doesn't." She thought out loud, "He doesn't go by the book."

Normality was indeed the rule. And the incessant voice in the back of her mind was certain he'd break it.

…

A new week started.

The Great Hall slowly but surely filled with sleepy students, many of them moaning about how the weekend had gone by too fast, or how an additional day should be added to the weekend. Four days of study, three days of free time. – It seemed more balanced.

Draco had just arrived to his spot at Slytherin's table. The blonde grabbed the coffee pot and poured himself some coffee, immediately downing the bitter liquid and pouring himself another cup. Since they'd kissed, Draco had been feeling the restlessness of Hermione, how she'd been thinking and overthinking their passionate encounter.

The Veela had noticed the emotional rollercoaster she'd been on. At times, she'd been alright with it, and a sense of calmness rushed through him, filling him with delight. Other times, however, she'd have a fit of anxiety, or slight panic attacks, which put him on edge. As a result, he hadn't been sleeping well, and even though there was nothing more he wanted than to talk to her about it, he decided to give her some time and space, repeatedly telling himself that patience was key. – However, the beast within him was not happy about it. Not in the least.

And so, the more patient he was, the more agitated he felt. He didn't want for his patience to run thin, but it was ever so difficult to gain the strength of mind to remind himself that he'd win her over in the end. Because he was certain he'd have his Hermione in the end. And he would feel the warmth of her embrace once more, and the caresses he so desperately longed for. She'd be his.

His, only his.

'You'll be mine, Princess.' He thought, his irises growing black, 'I promise you.'

Draco lost his train of thought when he heard Zabini's steps coming towards him in a rather quick manner. With his eyes rapidly turning back to its usual grey, Draco looked at his comrade, who quickly sat down next to him and gave him a meaningful smirk. The Slytherin Prince raised an eyebrow at him and returned his sneer.

In an amused tone, he asked, "What?"

"McLaggen is going to be arriving to the Great Hall in a matter of seconds." Blaise told him, "And I've this funny little feeling he'll put up a show for us to enjoy."

"A show, you say? Interesting."

"You'll see what I mean in a second. This is going to be hilarious."

Zabini wasn't wrong. Back when he'd been at the Hospital Wing with McLaggen, Blaise had told him he wanted him to take responsibility for his own stupidity. Somehow, the Italian managed to convince him that if the gesture wasn't grand, it wouldn't count as owning up for his own mistake, and as gullible as Cormac was, he promised he'd do it.

And as Zabini predicted, only a couple of seconds later, Cormac was making his great entrance to the Great Hall. – He still wore the bandages which Madame Pomfrey had wrapped around his arms and legs, and his face still looked swollen and beaten up. He visibly limped as he walked, and the Gryffindor wasn't able to mask his pain, making a clear display of how much he hurt all over his body.

Truthfully, McLaggen looked pathetic.

Excellent!

The Veela was indeed very pleased and patted Zabini on the shoulder, "Let the hilarity begin, then."

McLaggen then straightened himself up and cleared up his voice.

Show time.

"I'd like to say something!" He raised his voice, making every student turn around to look at him in confusion, "As some of you may know, I had a flying accident last week."

The confusion and the awkwardness in the Great Hall grew. Yes, some people had heard of it, but not the entirety of Hogwarts. Moreover, almost nobody cared, since people went in and out of the Hospital Wing all the time. Why would McLaggen be special? Why would he be any different?

Whispers filled the room for a moment, until McLaggen carried on with his brief, unprepared speech:

"So, I, uh… I want to make this clear. I am to blame for what happened to me. It was my fault I had that accident, since I had a lot to drink. Like, uh, a shit-ton. And this isn't probably very smart, saying this in front of the professors, and I'll probably get detention for it but, uh… Look, the point is, I was a drunken idiot and lost control over my broom. The Slytherin student who found me and brought me to the Hospital Wing is not to blame. He helped me. So, you know, uh… thanks, Zabini."

And with that, Cormac finished his clumsy, inelegant monologue and limped towards the Gryffindor Table, earning himself some awkward, silent stares. He finally sat down on his spot at the table and began to eat, slowly, visibly feeling uncomfortable by all of the gawking.

From the Slytherin table, Draco smirked at Blaise, putting on a mocking voice, "Yeah, uh… Thanks, uh, Zabini."

Blaise sneered, mimicking his friend, "Uh, yeah, fuck off, Malfoy."

…

Hermione, from her seat, could not help herself and also caught herself glaring at McLaggen. Truly, she'd felt sorry for him: She was filled with primarily pity for the poor lad, who had not only publicly apologised to a Slytherin in front of Hogwarts, no less, but also had done a piss-poor job of it.

"At least he owned up for his stupidity… Honestly, I didn't know he'd have it in him." She'd heard someone mutter not too distantly from her.

She concurred with that opinion. However, what made her feel extremely sorry for him, was the fact that in order for him to even apologise, McLaggen had had to crash with his broom and be saved by Zabini. He hadn't apologised out of his own humility, nor out of his own will or heart. No. He had apologised because he'd been cornered to do so.

That made her think. How was Cormac even in Gryffindor? Apologising out of blackmail rather than apologising out of righteousness seemed to be more of an act of cowardice, rather than an act of bravery.

'It seems that's just the type of person he is…' She thought, shaking her head almost unnoticeably, 'I've never thought much of him anyway, but, Merlin, that's such a shame.'

However, as shameful as she thought it was, she truly could not help herself with feeling the smallest, but most satisfying malicious joy. After all, she was only human. Who knew? Perhaps it had been the universe, aiming to teach Cormac a rough lesson for having stared at her like he had back at Slughorn's dinner party. Indeed, she was inclined to believe that the universe was indirectly, yet truthfully apologising on behalf of McLaggen: 'sorry he made you feel uncomfortable, I've shown him better, he won't do it again'.

Secretly, it made her feel better. She didn't want for it to make her feel better, but begrudgingly, it did. After all, the universe had this funny way of showing that all actions had consequences. And somehow, she couldn't help but feel avenged. She felt closure, a type of closure that was given to her, perhaps by the universe…

…Or perhaps by something else – Something so mortifying she'd rather not know.

…

Breakfast was over, and their Monday would start off with potions' class. And as much as Draco had been looking forward to it, Hermione had not.

For him, it was a relief to finally be near her again, to finally feel the intensity of her mesmerising. warm scent, taming the beast within him. Her nearness would bring about a wash of inner peace, even if she felt agitated. It gave him comfort that, in her dire state of mind, having her near him meant that he could protect her. The Veela could care for her, even if she didn't know. He could talk to her and listen to her, thus easing her racing mind. He would be her source of tranquillity, and he would feel fulfilled.

For her, it was an emotional, conflicting noose, tied from various ends. On one of those ends resided her distaste, annoyance and mistrust for Malfoy, after years of being called names. On another one lay her secretly rapidly growing admiration for him, how he was so knowledgeable about Magic, and how he apparently liked to do his research and read, just like she did. On another one of these ties existed her recent discovery of how he was so unbelievable charming, and how he put her under his spell, leading her to ask him for his kiss. It terrified her to come to realise that she wasn't appalled at all by that. In fact, she was afraid of what she might feel, should she untie the wrong lasso.

'Don't untie anything and it'll be okay. Just focus on the lecture today.'

Taking a deep breath in, Hermione ventured into the classroom. After a couple of minutes, the laboratory filled with its participants, and potions' class began.

…

After Professor Slughorn handed over the corrected parchments and explained what potion they'd be brewing, all students grouped together at their corresponding tables. Potter and Longbottom, Weasley and Brown, Granger and Malfoy, and the rest of them.

Once they had retrieved all ingredients from their respective cupboards, they met at their table, and as eagerly as she tried to concentrate on the potion they were supposed to brew, The Brightest Witch of Her Age was simply not able to focus. With him directly by her side, her mind was very much preoccupied with her kiss with Malfoy, and she worried over the consequences.

Would he try to mock her based on what had happened between them?

Ridicule her?

Or would he try to kiss her again?

Would he be gentle?

Would he do this, would he do that?

Would he, would he, would he?

Feeling her inner turmoil, the Veela saw the need to stop her from overthinking too much. She was short of a panic attack. Again. She'd been quite agitated the last couple of days, and he'd felt extremely exhausted. Thus, for her and his own good, he had to prevent it. He needed to protect her.

Draco opted for being rather casual about it, "Merlin, they're loud."

She gasped, feeling startled by his voice interrupting her worries, "Pardon me?"

"Your thoughts." He told her, as he was laminating a clove of garlic, "I can basically hear them from here."

"Well, mind your own thoughts, then."

"Easy for you to say. You're thinking so ridiculously loud I can't hear them."

"You… can't hear your own thoughts?"

"Nope."

"Do you not understand how thinking works, Malfoy? It's your own voice inside your head. No one else can hear it."

"Have you ever heard of the beautiful art of Legilimency?" He scoffed, sarcastically, as it was his turn to roll his eyes. She shot him an icy glare, "Oh, come on, Granger, don't look at me like that. I didn't use it on you. I'm just trying to ease the mood. You look positively rigid."

"I'm not rigid."

"Hmm."

"I'm not!"

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yes!" She spat at him, "Why wouldn't I be?"

"First off, because you're being quite defensive over something rather trivial. Second off, have you seen the way you hold that knife?" He pointed at her hand, "Sweet fucking Salazar, Granger, breathe."

Looking down at how she gripped the utensil, Hermione realised, much to her dismay, that Draco was right. She was rigid. She was tense. The force with which she held the blade was such, that her knuckles were pale. And she knew that if she were to be careless, the probability of cutting one of her fingers would rise drastically.

Her mind betrayed her, as, for a fraction of a second, she wondered: What would happen if she accidentally cut her finger? Would he help her? Would he be gentle, as gentle as he'd been by the end of their kiss?

The memory of them kissing came to her mind once more, and a wave of calmness rushed through her, easing her grasp on the knife. – She looked at him, puzzled. That brief moment of serenity, why had the memory such an effect on her? Why had he such an effect on her?

The Veela gave her a little smile, "Are you thinking about the other day?"

Hermione blushed furiously as embarrassment replaced the stillness, and gave him yet another dirty look, to which he only stirred a laugh. – Lowly, as though it was a purr.

Sexy.

She gave herself a mental slap, telling herself to immediately dispose of that horrid thought.

Draco Malfoy. Was. Not. Sexy.

No, absolutely not.

It hadn't been sexy as his pouty lips danced against hers, how he'd nipped at her lower lip and slid his tongue into her mouth, exploring it. It hadn't been sexy when she'd heard the silken sounds of how they touched one another, his hands roughly ruffling her curls, hers travelling from his tie to his neck, that satiny sound of her fingers wandering around his shirt until they reached his nape. It hadn't been sexy as she heard their heavy breaths echoing around the empty halls – And it most certainly had not been sexy when she heard him grunt.

Her mouth watered.

Once again, Hermione increased the force with which she held the knife and chopped up some thyme, which was needed for the potion they were brewing, blushing wildly. Taking that as an obvious 'yes', Draco gave her a little smirk.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"There's nothing to talk about."

"Oh, but there is! Especially if we take into consideration that you owe me one now."

Truthfully, the Veela wanted to protect her and to make her thoughts deviate from the dark place they found themselves in. However, he was determined to create a situation in which he could be near her, and to experience her nearness. He disliked the fact that it looked like he was 'cashing in a favour' form her, and he was very well aware that she didn't appreciate it. But if it meant that he got to kiss her once more; if it meant that he would get another kiss from her before he died – be it due to him running out of time, or due to her rejecting him –, he was determined to take it.

If she only knew what she did to him! If she only knew how hard it was to hide the truth from her! If she could only grasp how much he desired her, how much he needed her, how she could easily drive him to sheer insanity with something as simple as a kiss…

Oh, Hermione…

The Gryffindor Princess froze at his insinuation, letting the bunch of thyme fall from her hand, "Excuse me?"

"A kiss, Granger." He told her casually, grabbing the garlic slices and putting them into the cauldron, "You owe me a kiss."

"Will you lower your voice!" She hissed at him, reluctantly taking a step closer to him so that she could whisper, sudden rage and indignation flowing though her veins, "Are you joking me, Malfoy?"

"What?" Fake innocence clearly heard in his voice.

"What do you mean, 'what'?" She asked him, incredulity written all over her face, "This is neither the place nor the time to talk about this!"

"Oh, so there is something to talk about."

"Shut up!"

"Make me." - 'Kiss me.'

His very own pleading voice resonated in his mind, very much resembling hers when she'd begged him to kiss her. 'Please. Please, Hermione. Kiss me.'

He looked at her defiantly, "Go right ahead, make me."

"Trust me, I would. But I'm not going to risk getting detention for hexing you." She told him firmly, the defiance in her eyes matching his, "If you want to talk about this, we'll do it my way. Not here, and certainly not now."

Draco quickly realised that, if he accepted her terms, he would at least have the opportunity to be near her, and so giving in to her demands was the logical thing to do. Not wanting to appear too needy, he decided to let her wait a bit, occupying himself with the potion, seemingly thoughtful of her proposition.

Theatrics. – All for the sake of not coming across as too desperate.

After a minute, he saw that she was growing in impatience, and Draco cleared his voice and gave the first answer that came to his mind, as he stirred the potion in the cauldron, "Hm. And your way would be…?"

"I've fifteen minutes between Arithmancy and Ancient Runes."

"Whole fifteen minutes, aren't I lucky?" Sarcasm, sarcasm, sarcasm, "How generous of you, Granger."

"Take it or leave it, Malfoy." She narrowed her eyes at him, "If you want to clarify this ridiculous notion you've got about me owing you anything at all, then I highly suggest you take it."

"First, hand me the thyme you've chopped, will you? I have to add it to the potion." He said, opening his hand for her to give him the bunch of herbs. She did as she was told, and he sprinkled it into the cauldron, and kept on stirring, "Okay, this is looking good so far. Now, regarding this little offer of yours, let's suppose I take it. Where would we meet? You've established a time, but not a place."

She seemed to think about it for a moment, as she bit her lower lip.

"There's a quiet spot near Flitwick's office." She said, slowly, reluctantly, as if she didn't want to tell him but had no other choice, "It's on the way to Ancient Runes."

The blonde rose his eyebrows in surprise and looked at her. So, she knew about the same spot he and Zabini went to whenever they wanted to talk privately. Interesting.

"I know where that is." He told her, briefly pausing before he spoke again, "Again, let's say for a moment I took the chance. I've two conditions."

"Didn't you hear the part where I said we'd do it my way?"

"I did. Your conditions were 'not here, not now'. You've stated time and place, and I've not objected to it so far. On the contrary, I'm considering it."

"Ugh." Hermione crossed her arms, and eyed him suspiciously, cautiously, "But?"

"But I'm not an idiot, Granger. If I blindly accept your terms and conditions, I'm sure I'll meet the most stubborn, most tense version of yourself you have to offer. And truly, I would hate to waste my time talking to a wall. Hence why I said that I've two conditions of my own. Two for two."

Even though she hated to admit, she knew he had a point. After the bomb he'd dropped, telling her she supposedly owed him a kiss, she was indeed quite reluctant to meet him. But since he was being rather compliant with her terms, it seemed only fair that she'd at least listened to what he had to offer. – Hermione sighed in defeat, as she rubbed her temples. Damn her Gryffindor sense of justice!

"All right, Malfoy. Enlighten me, what would that be?"

"First, that you listen. That you simply listen to what I have to say, without interrupting me or making a fuss."

She chose to ignore the fuss part, "And your second?"

"That you tell me the truth. No 'white lies' to save you from an uncomfortable question, and no deviating from the truth by subtly changing the subject. I've seen you tend to do that when you're rigid-"

"I'm not rigid!"

Now it was his time to ignore her comment, "-If I ask you a question, I want the most truthful answer you can give me."

Her jaw dropped, ever so slightly. The brunette was rather surprised by his terms, she'd honestly not been expecting them. It took her aback, however, when she very quickly realised that he'd managed to turn something rather Gryffindoresque into something that was completely from Slytherin. He was using something as pure as the truth entirely to his advantage. And precisely there lay the difficulty: He had already anticipated that some of the questions he'd ask were going to be uncomfortable and possibly quite personal. By giving in to his requisites, she would practically allow him to ask her whatever he wanted, and she'd have no other option but to tell him the truth.

There would be no escape.

Much to her dismay, however, she liked the challenge. A spark lit her brown eyes as she looked at him directly in his grey eyes, "Do your own conditions also apply to you?"

Ever his fierce, intelligent, beautiful Hermione, "Always."

A light puff of vapour erupted from the cauldron. – The deal was sealed.

…