Warnings: SLASH. You don't know what it is? Then I seriously doubt that you want to be here.

A/N: I *think* that I have fixed the box issue. Hopefully. As always, this is for Margolia.

Couplings: H/D, D/Blaise, potentially R/Hr. No, sorry people, this is not a fic where the entire wizarding population is queer.

Spoilers: Potentially everything. Just cause I don't have the supplement books yet means nothing.

Disclaimer: Nothing here is mine except for the story. Nothing. The story- is fully conceived and waiting to be written. The characters- I borrow.

Chapter Six: Chasing the Snitch

Or, The Knight of Wands

The rest of the morning saw Harry and Ron strapped to Infirmary beds and Hermione holed up in the library. Hermione might have felt bad about leaving them to fend for themselves, but they had all of the sixth year boys in Gryffindor and Slytherin to keep them company.

Excepting, of course, one Draco Malfoy.

Hermione might have otherwise been tempted to laugh at how the Infirmary seemed to be filled with tottering mummies (thankfully, no one was suffering from truly serious burns), she was instead obsessing over Malfoy. And she resented him for it.

She resented that she could not just let this go, even though it was only Malfoy. Or perhaps because it was Malfoy. Malfoy wasn't worth the time that she was currently dedicating to him, definitely wasn't worth Harry's sudden and strange preoccupation (don't think she hadn't noticed), wasn't worth the imprint her hand had left behind it years ago. Why should she care? She didn't. And yet, here she was, scouring through all of the texts on possession she could find. And there was not much. The really important texts were in the Restricted Section, and even Hermione had been having a difficult time wrangling passes there from teachers since fifth year. While it could not be said that paranoia was running rampant at Hogwarts, the floors might have been covered in broken glass with the way all of the teachers were acting.

Hermione shoved the mess of books in front of her away to make room for her elbows, steepling her fingers as she rested her face in her hands' netting. A lock of brown bushy fluff fell in her face. She crossed her eyes and puffed it away, only to watch it come floating back. Puff, fall, puff, fall, puff.

It just didn't make sense. Dumbledore just had to have protections up that prevented things like possessions from happening at Hogwarts. No one wanted demons roaming the halls, rooming with children, and studying human magic – even if their true power was sheathed in flesh. It just didn't make sense. And as for that rubbish Malfoy had tried to feed her about it being a family trait- well, deception was a Slytherin institution, now wasn't it?

Hermione nibbled at one of her split ends, scrutinized the brown tips for hints of lurking demons. Demons. . . demons? What if she wasn't approaching the problem from the right angle? What if the possession wasn't demonic? The Veela had been very clear that 'not all possessions are of demonic origin.' What if Malfoy had been possessed by a human? Hermione twitched, accidentally jerking out a clump of hair. What if he was under the Imperius Curse?

Hermione rubbed her forehead, her teeth scraping along the inside of her mouth. Malfoy under the Imperius Curse