Hermione
September 1996
Gryffindor Common Room
"Hermione you are my hero," Ginny gushed the moment Harry finished recounting what had just taken place in their Defense Against the Dark arts class.
Hermione smiled at the compliment, but felt guilty all the same for getting praise for such a thing. All this attention was for an act of violence. But she stopped short of protesting. Ron's strong arm had wrapped around her shoulder, and he was giving her a squeeze of encouragement. Hermione felt her chest flutter at his embrace.
Harry however had moved on and was already pacing. "I can't believe Snape gave you three detentions."
"With Malfoy," Ron added in a sorrowful tone, again squeezing Hermione by the shoulder.
The four of them sat at the best spots in the Gryffindor common room, thanks to Ginny. When she had came in and overheard Ron say the words, "Hermione" "Punched" and "Goyle", Ginny abruptly turned and shooed away the other Gryffindors who had been sitting on the overstuffed couches and armchairs by the fire, claiming emergency ownership of the coveted space.
"So he gave you three detentions for punching Goyle?" Ginny asked, now perching on the arm of an armchair that Harry sat in.
Despite Harry's preoccupation and frustration with the situation from class, Hermione could not help but notice Harry's whole body change as Ginny angled herself absentmindedly closer to Harry
Hermione knew she had no right to cast any judgment on her friend and his possible hidden feelings for Ginny. She herself had been the queen of hiding feelings for a close friend for years at that point.
She could not figure out what her and Ron were to each other. They could be so hot and cold; so on and off. Not to mention Ron was extremely temperamental, and could hold a grudge better than anyone. So when Hermione was the focus of his attention, even if it was for assaulting another student, she would take it greedily.
Just as Hermione was getting comfortable in the oddly intimate embrace they shared, Ron decided to interject on Harry's last comment, and moved himself away from her.
"Snape was being a right git," Ron exclaimed, leaning further away from Hermione with an animated flourish of his arms. She recoiled back into the couch, doing her best to not show disappointment.
A hand appeared by Ginny's shoulder, followed by the handsome face of Dean Thomas. Leaning back, Ginny accepted a kiss from him which sent Harry careening to the far corners of his armchair.
"Look mate, Hermione got two more detentions because you two chimed in," Dean added, having been an eye witness. "It was bollocks, but that's the truth."
Ginny turned back to Hermione. "So why does Malfoy have detention with you?"
Harry and Ron exchanged glances, but Hermione answered. "He called me a Mudblood."
Anger registered across Ginny's face, but then her face contorted into confusion. "Snape gave Malfoy three detentions for saying…" Ginny trailed off, not wanting to say or make reference to the word. Hermione nodded.
Hermione didn't give much consideration to the punishment doled out to Malfoy at the time, but as she thought about it more, it was odd that Professor Snape reacted so vehemently at Malfoy saying the disgusting word.
A sudden thought occurred to Harry, and moved himself to the couch to speak to Ron and Hermione privately, but not before casting a terse glance back at Dean, who Harry considered outside their inner circle, and also Hermione noticed, was affectionately wrapping his arms around Ginny at that very moment. Ginny let out a frustrated sigh at being left out and tugged Dean's wrist, leading him away.
"Hermione," Harry whispered, now leaning over his two friends. "You can spy on Malfoy! You can see if he's a Death Eater! His guard will be down when it's just you two."
The thought of being alone with Malfoy for three detention made Hermione's stomach turn. She had no interest in spying on him anymore. Not after what happened earlier.
Ron didn't appear to agree with Hermione's internal thoughts and steadfastly shook his head in agreement with Harry's proposal. Hermione turned to face him, and found that he was now closer than she expected him to be. They had sunk into the softness of the couch, and the smell of fresh cut green grass and peppermint permeated off of him and invaded her senses.
"I'm not going to spy on Malfoy," Hermione said feigning authority. Her skin felt flush from the scent of Ron and all the feelings it drudged up.
Strangely, it was Ron that insisted, rather than Harry. "Come on 'Moinie. It might tell us something"
Hermione firmly disagreed. Tell them something about what? Their fixation with Malfoy felt like nothing more than childish rows.
Harry was now leaning in, pulling Hermione's attention back to him. "You don't need to talk to him. Just observe him. Maybe keep an eye on his arm."
She bit her lip. For two weeks she had been observing him, but had failed to mention anything of the sort to her two friends obsessed with everything Malfoy did. Feeling oddly qualified for the task, she nodded.
"You're the best Hermione" Ron gushed, squeezing her once again by the shoulder. It occurred to her then that for as long as she could remember, every time she felt positive reinforcement from Ron, it was when she was doing something that he wanted her to do.
Draco
September 1996
Slytherin Common Room
Something primal ripped from the depths of Draco Malfoy's chest as he chucked his school bag into the stone wall of the Slytherin common room just after bursting through the entry way. Following closely behind was Pansy, Blaise, and Theo. Goyle quickly scuttled to his dorm room, likely to lick his wounds from being embarrassed by a mudblood.
"What a bloody hypocrite," Draco shouted, itching to throw or kick something else.
Pansy purred in agreement from the couch. She had already vanished her class robes which gave way to a pleated skirt and the long legs that existed underneath. Draco noted all of this, and couldn't help but conclude that the display was meant solely for him. It gnawed at him that he couldn't care less that Pansy was putting herself on display for him. She didn't make him feel anything, even though he was desperate to feel something other than never ending numbness, mixed with the periodic rush of uncut rage.
Blaise, who had taken a seat at one of the many high backed arm chairs took note of Draco's out of character display of emotion. "A bit dramatic, don't you think Draco?"
Draco whipped his focus to Blaise, his eyes blazing. In seeing the cool demure, and perhaps judgmental look from his friend, Draco relented and took a stuttering breath.
"Why would he give you a detention for that?" Theo interjected, having been unphased by Draco's outburst.
Blaise raised an intrigued brow. "This is what we should be discussing."
Draco deflated a bit, realizing his initial reaction was unbecoming and pointless. Stiffly, he sat himself down by Pansy. He left space between the two, but he knew that sitting anywhere near her was an invitation for her continued attention.
"Have you ever heard him say it?" Theo asked as he twirled a quill between his fingers, fixating on the feather going back and forth.
Pansy shook her head and angled her body closer to Draco's. "I haven't," she contributed, moving her polished fingers across Draco's shoulder, and then up his neck. He tensed involuntary.
Him and Pansy had been…close in the past. OK, more than just close. They had been intimate. Not to mention that the Parkinson's had been pushing Pansy in his direction since their first year in Hogwarts. Draco's parents were only marginally better, but only because his Father did not deem the Parkinsons as a top tier pure blood family and therefore did not push the matter of him and Pansy together nearly as much as the Parkinsons did. All this to say, Draco was very familiar with Pansy's touch, yet now, he tensed at it.
Nothing was like it was before. Just a year prior, the path ahead of him held limitless possibilities. He was a disgustingly wealthy pure blood, meaning his future was blindingly bright. Before, he could do what he wanted. He could fool around or fuck someone, and it wasn't an earth shattering decision, because who was going to cast judgement down on Draco Malfoy?
But now, he was paralyzed with indecision; not knowing if whatever he did could be the last decision he ever makes. He couldn't be sure when his time would be up; when the Dark Lord would call upon him to deliver on his task.
Draco found Pansy giving him a quizzical look. She wasn't an idiot. She had seen the change in him. Truth be told, he knew she was playing into her parents expectations regarding a union between the two, and often times she seemed just as luke warm on him as he did on her. But who was he to complain? It wasn't the worst deal for him; Pansy was fucking gorgeous. But now, he saw his life through shit colored glasses, and even her touch couldn't bring him comfort.
Realizing he had been quiet for far too long, he interjected with what he thought could be considered an acceptable comment from him at that moment.
"Three detentions," Draco huffed, adjusting himself stiffly on the couch. "For that mudblood."
"With that mudblood," Pansy added.
Blaise smirked. "Careful, Snape could be listening. You don't want another detention do you?"
Draco shot him a withering glare.
"I bet Snape loved a muggle once," Theo mused, only appearing to have half way paid attention to the tenseity of the conversation. Draco, Pansy, and Blaise focus snapped to him, to which Theo only shrugged. "I've never heard him say the word. He's always been a bit shifty with muggle born stuff right?" Theo reasoned. "I bet he was in love with a muggle. Or maybe he still is. Otherwise why would he be so weird about it? He's on our side right? He could be in denial."
Pansy rolled her eyes, and Draco scoffed. Theo seemed undeterred, and went back to glancing at whatever it was he was reading.
A high pitched throat clearing came from the edge of where they all sat. A Slytherin, measly enough to be a first or second year, clutched a crisp cream envelope in their hand.
"For Malfoy," the measly one spoke, cracking a bit in their voice.
Before Draco could take hold of the letter, Blaise intercepted it. Without another word, the first or second year scurried off.
"What do you think you're doing?" Draco questioned Blaise, watching his friend unseal the envelope.
Blaise was nonplussed. "I assume this is about your detention, which is of course public discourse at this point."
With a hand on his wand, Draco cast a wordless charm and sent the letter into his hand. Blaise looked impressed.
"Practicing wordless spells are we?" Blaise questioned teasingly.
Theo looked up. "What, are we not suppose to be?"
For a split second, Draco felt a spark of life light up within him. The normalcy of their banter brought him back to simpler times. It dawned on him then that this was perhaps the most conversation his friends had received from him since the start of the year.
Draco grasped the letter and opened it up. Blaise was right; it was about the detention.
"Tomorrow evening, 8pm. In the potions dungeons with Slughorn"
"Slughorn?" Pansy questioned, plucking the letter from Draco's grasp to look for herself.
To the side, Theo chuckled. Again, the three sets of eyes found their way to him.
"I think it's obvious actually," Theo began as he readjusted himself in the chair. "You and Granger are probably top of our class, hell maybe in the whole school at potions."
"...Granger is…" Pansy started to refute but Theo waved her off.
"Please Pansy. It does us no good to pretend that Granger isn't talented," Theo said plainly as a scandalized look spread across Pansy's features. Theo, was unmoved by her reaction. "With everything that is happening," Theo started up again, this time using the colloquial phrase that they had all begun to say instead of, 'impending war'. He continued, "potions are drying up, and ingredients are thin on the ground. There is a huge demand for anyone putting decent potions into the market."
Blaise nodded, picking up where Theo left off. "Slughorn is an opportunist. If he's using the Hogwarts stockroom, and can use some of the more rare ingredients kept there, he could make a killing off of a decent potion. He must have heard you and Granger got yourself detentions and convinced Snape to let him take care of the rest."
Draco nodded in a bored way, agreeing with Blaise and Theo.
Separately, Draco began thinking that brewing potions was not much of a punishment. In fact, he was quite fond of it, even if so far this year he had been shit in class due to being distracted with his impossible task. Really it didn't matter what he was tasked to do. The true punishment was having to spend any time with that insufferable, obnoxious Granger.
The sheer thought of the mudblood made his skin prickle with uncontrolled hate. But in the moment, what made him nearly lose control of the rage he felt was this disgusting feeling that if she hadn't been a mudblood, he may have actually been impressed with the bravado she showed in class earlier that day.
Lost in thought, Draco had failed to notice Pansy's hand creep through the opening of his robes. Frustration, panic, loneliness all pulsed through him at her touch and he forced himself to respond with how he may have reacted to her advancements in the past.
"Clear out," Draco snapped at Blaise and Theo. Blaise rolled his eyes and strolled away, grabbing the scruff of Theo's robes as he did. A few younger students were near by, which Blaise dutifully shooed away.
It was by no means private, but perhaps Draco could let off a bit of steam with Pansy.
Picking up on his cue, Pansy angled her body to rest against his chest, her other hand now working its way up to his pecs and towards his throat. She teased her nails at the soft spot under his chin, leaving faint red marks in her trails.
Blood began to pulse through him, and the rush of it all gave him sanctuary from his racing thoughts. He eased back into the couch as Pansy draped herself over him, his free hand curving around her waist resting on her exposed leg.
This was normal, Draco thought. This was how he imagined the rest of his time at Hogwarts would play out; just fucking around.
Pansy placed slow, lingering kisses along his neck while inching her hand down from his chest, across his abdomen, towards the outline of his belt buckle under his robes. His hand inched up on her creamy leg.
His thoughts kept racing despite the distraction that was Pansy. He tried to will himself to focus on the task at hand.
An intrusive image occupied his thoughts. It was a flushed look of defiance, mixed with unchecked confidence. The thought focused and it was the look Granger had on her face when she confronted Goyle. He recalled a fiery look behind her eyes directly after delivering her punch to his housemate. What was her deal with slapping the shit out of Slytherin's anyway?
Suddenly, he felt a rush, and his hand moved towards the inside of Pansy's thigh. She angled herself to give him access.
Another intrusive thought about Granger barged into his consciousness. Specifically, how she could not seem to get a handle on her unwieldy hair. She was supposedly the 'best witch of her age', Draco surmised, mocking her in the privacy of his own thoughts. It would seem that if that were the case, she could figure out how to tame her insane frock.
Freckles and flush and anger burned behind his eyes. He thrilled again, now turning to Pansy and taking her mouth with his.
Unlike other times with Pansy, Draco felt desperate as he kissed her. His tongue met hers, and even though their hookups typically had a lazy cadence to them, he found that he was changing the pace, and pushed into her harder with his mouth, wanting more.
His hand looked to explore, hoping to find some way to be satisfied. His hand moved from the inside of her thigh up the side of her crisp white blouse, gripping at her breast, but he felt nothing. It didn't do it for him. Something was wrong.
Then a memory of Granger slapping him in third year, and then a realization.
He pushed Pansy off of him, taking a breath from the corner of the couch. Pansy to her credit, only looked annoyed at Draco, rather than hurt.
"Draco," she began, adjusting herself demurely, "this doesn't need to be 'a thing," she continued, "but if you're going to be weird, I don't want to do this."
He was sucking in air through his teeth, trying to subdue his thoughts, looking to banish the epiphany he just had.
It was the thought of Hermione Granger that had been arousing him, and that was absolutely, unequivocally, wrong.
"I'm going to go take a shower," was all he could manage as he stood, leaving Pansy sitting there, more exasperated than anything.
Walking to the prefects bathroom, he shook his hands out, trying to release some tension from his body. His mind was completely out of sorts since coming back to Hogwarts. Nothing felt normal to him anymore. Everything had been turned upside down.
He let out shuttered sigh. This was all insanity. So he began to reason:
If his task to kill Dumbledore was insanity, and everything else about his life at present was insanity, it would only conclude that his mind was descending into madness. Which in turn, explained why he had been aroused by the most frustrating, most undeserving, most mudblood of them all: Granger.
Bursting through the doors to the bathrooms, he bee lined it to a shower stall. Disrobing quickly, he turned the faucet on, keeping the water ice cold.
Without another consideration, he stepped into the frigid waters, hoping to banish the dark thoughts that he just experienced.