The bells above the shop door tinkled as Hermione hurried across the threshold. October in the highlands was windy and she was glad to be indoors again. Plus, the cozy little formal robes store was a good place to hide from the witches and wizards of Hogsmeade. On her way through the village, someone seemed to recognize her every three feet.

"Over here, Mione!" The voice came from her left and she turned to see Ginny standing on a pedestal in front of the shop window, already wearing a beautiful gown of yellow tulle. She turned this way and that in the mirror, frowning. The shopkeeper, a plump witch with grey hair and tortoiseshell glasses, stood next to her, fluffing up the skirts of the dress.

"That one looks great on you, Gin. Are you buying it?" It did look perfect on her friend, the cut showing off her lean and toned chaser's figure.

"Gods, no. It clashes horribly with my hair. I swear to Merlin that's the worst part about being a redhead." Hermione laughed and pushed a few dresses around on the rack in front of her. This was a new store, and they had the very latest in wizarding fashions, rare for Hogsmeade. Most of the purebloods had their formal robes shipped in from Diagon Alley or other European designers. But the business boom after the order's victory led to a few high end stores setting up shop right next to Hogwarts.

The shop owner flurried around them, pulling gowns off racks and draping them over the dressing room stalls. She took a biscuit off a silver tray that had been set to the side and took a look at Ginny's picks. Ginny hopped off the pedestal and held Hermione by the arms.

"It's so good to just get a moment with you." She looked Hermione over, like she was trying to drink in the sight of her. "The boy's club is getting old."

"I just don't want to make things awkward for everyone. Or for me."

"I know. But Harry asked me to report back to him with how you're doing. Between you and me, I think he's getting tired of nursing Ron's pride back to health. Not that he'll ever say that."

Hermione smiled. "How is Ron?"

"He's coming around. I think he was surprised more than anything. You know when you get your heart set on something so completely that you forget to check if it's possible?"

"Yeah."

"He has a date to the ball anyhow. Parvati Patil." Hermione tried not to show her surprise. She must have missed a lot more than she thought, being away from the Gryffindor dormitories. Ginny seemed to be watching for her reaction.

"Oh? Good for him." She was happy for him. That didn't change the fact that she did not yet have a date. Ginny turned away from her to undo the buttons on the back of another gown, seemingly relieved by her response.

"Yeah, they've gotten close doing rounds together. They both had Lavender in common so…" That was right. How could she have forgotten? Everything she remembered about Lavender had been overshadowed by the last ten seconds of her life that Hermione had witnessed. When Greyback bit her throat open in front of her. A girl she hadn't liked. Who had been murdered by the same monster that haunted her dreams. She put the biscuit back down on the tray, suddenly sick to her stomach.

The shopkeeper approached them from the back of the store. Arms loaded with gowns. "I have just the dresses for you, both." She unloaded them onto an ottoman and pulled open the curtain of a dressing room, shoving Hermione in. "Here we are. Blush pink first." Hermione caught the dress over the top of the stall as she listened to Ginny receive a similar treatment next door.

She tried to focus on slipping the dress over her hips, but her hands shook. Panic was setting in. She sat on the floor and put her head between her knees, trying to distract her mind. She recalled random facts, did multiplication in her head, anything to avoid being overtaken by memories.

Ginny left the stall next to hers. She could hear the shopkeeper shower her with compliments and wheel over the mirror. "This one will work. I do look good in it. Did the dress swallow you up in there, Hermione?"

She didn't want Ginny to know she was on the verge of a panic attack. That little comments and reminders could send her into a tailspin. It took two more deep breaths before she trusted her voice to answer. "Almost done."

She finished the laces and opened the door. "Hmm, it's pretty but I've seen you look better." She forced out a shaky laugh, having not even looked at the dress yet. She stepped onto the pedestal and took a look.

The dress was a pearlescent rose color. Pretty, but Ginny was right. It didn't do much for her figure, rounder and less toned than the redhead's. The only thing she liked was that it had long sleeves, hiding the gruesome scar on her arm.

"Hey, since this is a Halloween ball, shouldn't we be going in costumes?"

Hermione laughed. "It's a formal ball. No costumes. Sorry."

"Why waste a perfect occasion for a gown by wearing a horrid costume," the shopkeeper mused as she loaded up Hermione's arms with another dress. She tried on two more, locals and tourists stopping to look at her through the window. Ginny paid for the sky blue gown she decided on and changed back into her clothes.

"My fall colors are blending in with your hair, my dear. We need to try something else," the old shopkeeper told her, her wand pressed to her pudgy chin. Then her eyes lit up in revelation. "I know just the dress!"

She disappeared into the racks of dresses and emerged moments later with something glimmering in her arms. She pushed Hermione into the dressing room and helped her put it on herself. The fabric was molten gold silk. It draped over her body like a second skin.

She stepped in front of the mirror and straightened the capped sleeves. "It's perfect," cheered the shopkeeper. "A golden gown for the golden girl. I should have brought it out sooner."

"It's beautiful. But are you sure it isn't a little too much for me?" She felt like her cleavage was spilling out of the bodice, putting so much of her skin on display.

"Hermione, you look great. You need to get that one." The hem dragged past her feet, made for someone taller than her, but one wave of the shopkeeper's wand had it adjusted perfectly. She fingered one of the sleeves. They were short, her scar on display.

"I insist you have it. Free of charge." She protested, but the shopkeeper was steadfast, insisting that the dress was her token of appreciation for her part in the war. Eventually, she lost and found herself leaving the shop with the dress wrapped in tissue paper and tucked safely into a bag. Ginny looped her arm through hers as they made their way back to the castle, passing the peculiar sight of Luna sitting with Blaise Zabini on a bench outside Madam Puddifoot's.

She wondered to herself if the shopkeeper would have given her the dress for free if she knew that she was going to wear it to dance with a former Death Eater.


Hermione had managed to avoid Malfoy for a grand total of five days before the universe threw them together again. Every morning, she entered the great hall for breakfast expecting to find everyone staring at her and whispering. She expected to see Harry and Ron look at her with disgust. She had mentally prepared herself to grovel for their forgiveness, but it was never necessary. Life went on as usual. Her dirty little secret remained just that, a secret. But she could sometimes feel Malfoy's eyes on her from where he sat with his friends, like he was testing for cracks. To see if she would confess to the entire student body out of guilt and paranoia. She didn't doubt that he was enjoying every moment of it.

Thursday morning potions efficiently put an end to her denial of what had happened between them nearly a week earlier. Because as luck would have it, Slughorn decided it would be a wonderful day to make them brew Amortentia as a pop quiz.

Hermione didn't even bother looking at the board for her assigned partner. She knew it would be him. They had the best grades in the class, matched evenly enough that Slughorn wouldn't fear one of them being carried by the other. That, and she had managed to dodge being partnered with him on brewing for far too long. So instead, she sat at her table and didn't look up until he had thunked a cauldron down next to her, as she suspected.

He was wearing robes for once, and the blackness of them set off his pale skin. "Are you going to get the ingredients or are you going to sit there?"

She huffed. "Do you not remember the ingredients for Amortentia?" She used her wand to light the burner, focusing on the flame until it glowed a hot blue under their cauldron.

"For the one hundredth time Granger, I don't need to peek at your answers." He leaned over the table to look her in the eyes. He was close enough that she could smell his cologne, could see the different shades of grey in his eyes. "I know how to brew Amortentia just fine."

She believed him. He was second in their class for good reason. A fact that she had to eventually come to terms with over the years. "Fine. Tend the flame." He took her place and she quickly gathered up everything they would need from the dusty storage room, several bewildered students covertly attempting to see what she was choosing. By the time she returned, he had set out their knives, chopping boards and a mortar and pestle. She unloaded the ingredients onto the table and he took a dried lionfish out a jar, prepared to extract one of its spines with forceps. "I usually do that," she started. Pulling out the lionfish spines was a delicate process, one she only trusted her own hands to accomplish perfectly. "You can grind up the nettles."

"Granger, are you aware of your control issues?" He carefully plucked out a spine before she could answer.

"Will you shut up? They're not issues. It's just the way I do things." She weighed out the moonstone powder exactly and added it to the cauldron, watching the river water base turn a midnight blue.

"Yeah, sure. So you won't mind if I count out the rose petals then." She bit her lip and feigned nonchalance.

"Go ahead." He counted them out of her sight and added them to the cauldron. It fizzed into a swirling pink. She could already feel her hair poofing up around her. The cauldron bubbled a steady hum, vapors drifting off the surface.

"We need to call a prefects' meeting. They've sent in a refreshments order for the ball that is way too extravagant. I'm not approving it." A major consequence of avoiding him was the fact that her head girl duties were suffering. Only so much could get done when they weren't cooperating.

"I saw it. It's just enough for seventy students. Unless you want people to ration the drinks."

"Then the school should hire an establishment from Hogsmeade to cater! It's way too much for the kitchen elves to prepare and clean up after, on top of the everyday meal prep and dishes."

"Oh, that's right. I almost forgot about your elvish welfare crusade."

"It's not a crusade. It's called activism."

"Activism the elves didn't want."

"They just didn't feel empowered enough to be onboard with S.P.E.W." She stirred again. "And that's all part of the problem."

"Or maybe, they like doing domestic tasks."

"You can like your job and still get paid for it. Real wages and benefits and sick time. Otherwise it's slave labor. It's unjust."

"Maybe," he conceded, clearly annoyed. "But that doesn't change the fact that they don't want to be free. Who are you to force them? Face it, Granger. Not everyone wants to be your pity project."

"It's not a pity project, Malfoy. They're creatures of human level intelligence and they deserve the same rights in society that we have!"

She knew how she must look right now. Hair wild from the steam in the room, barely over five feet tall and ranting and raving over house elf rights. Her hands were on her hips. Malfoy was staring down at her like she was an insect.

Slughorn called out from the front of the room. "Remember students! The smell of the Amortentia is different for everyone so don't expect to agree with your partner on that quality! It should smell like whatever attracts you."

She had forgotten about that part. The last time she had made Amortentia she had smelled the parchment of old books, mint from her mother's garden, and something else that was only vaguely familiar to her. A scent that she couldn't place. She had made up one other scent on the spot, not wanting to sound like she made a poor Amortentia. And then she promptly forgot the smell as soon as she left the potions dungeon.

Now she leaned over the cauldron to catch a whiff as she stirred and smelled...nothing. It smelled like nothing. "You must have added too many petals! I think it's off."

Malfoy laughed humorlessly, not looking up from the rose thorns he was crushing with a knife. "It's not off. It looks fine. Not that I can see much of it past your hair. And even if it was off, how the fuck would you know it was my fault?"

"I don't smell it. I should smell something by now. And I know it was you because I didn't make a mistake."

"That's great logic, Granger." He slid the last ingredient, the crushed thorns, off the chopping block and into the brew, brushing against her as he did. The rose thorns sank into the potion, giving it a pearlescent sheen.

She smelled it again, this time picking up notes of mint and parchment. But they weren't nearly as strong as they should have been and she felt like something was missing. For most people, Amortentia had three distinct notes. She shook her head.

"It's not right. Something was done wrong." Her hands shook. This was a review potion. She had learned it years ago. And she had never made an unsuccessful potion before. This could ruin her O in the class. She could end up with an E in potions. The thought was unacceptable. She went over the ingredients left on their table, trying to spot anything she missed.

Malfoy, leaned over the cauldron. "Will you stop with the dramatic self flagellation? It smells fine."

She turned to him sharply. "You smell it? What does it smell like?"

"The same thing it always smells like."

Professor Slughorn materialized next to them with a jovial smile. "Ahh. That looks like a splendid Amortentia. Look at the sheen. The color is just right." He dipped a ladle in and scooped up some of the potion, slowly pouring it back out again. But Hermione knew that it was only a matter of time before he realized that it was defective despite its appearance.

"I'm sorry professor, but I don't know what went wrong. It doesn't have much of a smell. It must be low potency."

"Really? That's odd. I smell it alright. And Mr. Malfoy, do you smell it?"

"Yes, professor."

"Well, see there, my dear. No need to fret. It's an excellent brew."

"I just. I just think there's something wrong with it. Can I start over? I'll do it all myself."

"There's no need for that, Miss Granger."

"I know I added the right amount of moonstone and nettles. I know I did," she muttered to herself.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Gods, you're such a little swot. Just accept that our potion came out fine even though you didn't do it all yourself."

"Then why don't I smell it?!"

"Smell it again."

She went to smell the potion again, attempting to elbow him out of the way. "Move over, Malfoy. Merlin, I can't smell anything over your cologne."

She realized what she said as soon as he did. One fair eyebrow arched over his otherwise nonplussed expression. She looked away, sputtering as she saw the beginnings of an arrogant smirk curl his lips.

"Yes, well. I think that's my cue. An O to both of you." Professor Slughorn drifted away from them, moving on to Seamus and Dean's smoking cauldron.

"Look at me, Granger." She didn't want to, already able to hear the amused satisfaction in his voice. She turned her head slowly. His face was placid, but right under the surface she could see the cat with a canary. She never really considered the accuracy of that description until now. "I guess you didn't forget the other night, then."

Her cheeks burned and she cursed her complexion for ensuring that he could see it. Her mind flashed back to his hands on her. Fingers in her. The way her legs shook afterwards and the deep sleep that took her that night. She hadn't stopped thinking about it since. Gods help her, she hadn't stopped wanting it either.

"Don't let it go to your head, Malfoy."


The halls were packed on the way to arithmancy. The tide of students threatened to overwhelm her and she realized that she was going to have to her mind healer about her newfound problem with crowds.

On the moving staircases, Hermione spotted Ron and Harry stepping off onto the third floor, the same floor she was headed towards. Harry caught her eye and then turned to say something to Ron. Ron nodded and continued walking while Harry paused against the wall, waiting for her.

He smiled wistfully as she approached. She barely got his name out of her mouth before he was squeezing her in a bear hug, her cheek pressed to the front of his robes. She laughed and patted his back.

"Hermione, don't ever let me take you for granted again. Things are just not the same without you," he said, finally releasing her.

"I won't, don't you worry. How are you sleeping? Are you staying caught up in your classes? Did you read the book on PTSD I recommended? Merlin, that was ages ago, I know." The questions poured out of her mouth and Harry smiled again, clearly used to her nagging at this point.

"Fine. Yes. And I started it last week. Just for you."

"Okay. I just worry about you. Both of you."

"We're okay. We just miss you. And now we have to actually take our own notes." She laughed at that.

"You two are ridiculous," she said affectionately.

"Hermione. Potter." Cormac McLaggen stood next to them, tall and imposing. "Do you mind if I cut in for a moment? I wanted to speak to Hermione."

"Oh, um. Sure. We were just catching up," Harry answered. "I'll see you soon, Hermione."

She waved goodbye to Harry, a bit annoyed at Cormac for interrupting, and confused as to what he could want.

"Cormac, it's good to see you." She attempted politeness. She knew that the Gryffindor beater had a thing for her since sixth year. She had gone to Slughorn's Christmas party with him to piss off Ron, still smarting from his hooking up with Lavender. She was so different now, but he seemed the same. Still cocky and flirtatious.

"Yeah. Likewise. Listen, this ball on Halloween. I thought maybe we could go together. We'd make one hell of a pair, Granger." She tried not to flinch. Only Malfoy called her by her last name. It was strange to hear it from Cormac's mouth.

"Oh. I hadn't even really thought about the ball. You know I'm required to dance with the head boy at least once, right?"

"Sure, but it's only one dance. Then you're all mine," he joked with a crooked smile. "It's not like you're his date."

"Merlin. No. Not at all."

"Great then. So it's all good." She turned over his offer. She knew the pressure put on women to have a date for every occasion was archaic and rooted in misogyny. But she had spent so much of her early years ostracized or forgotten about that she didn't want to go alone. Not when she could have a date. And it seemed like all her friends had paired up. He was the only one that asked.

"Okay. Yeah, it'll be good. I'll meet you outside the great hall."

He broke into a wide grin. "Perfect. I'll uh, see you there."

She nodded, trying not to look at her watch. She had lost too much time and still needed to get to arithmancy. "Yeah, great." He finally continued on to class, walking backwards for a moment to flash her one more cocky grin as he went.

She hightailed it to the last staircase she would have to descend, the main staircase, jammed with students. Going down the steps, she felt someone bump her shoulder roughly from behind, sending her stumbling forward. She gasped and swung her arms out in front of her, prepared to topple headfirst down the steps, but a strong arm grabbed her around the waist at the last moment, breaking her fall.

"Oops. I didn't notice you there, mudblood," Pansy hissed as she sauntered past her, stepping onto the landing and disappearing into the crowd.

"Watch it, Parkinson," she yelled after her, righting herself on the flagstone once again. She turned to thank her savior.

"You alright? That would have been a nasty spill." She recognized him as someone from the year below hers, now part of her class since she was technically repeating her last year. An attractive, boyish face and golden brown hair.

"I'm fine. Thanks to you," she shook her head. "I'm so sorry, but I don't know if we've ever spoken. What's your name?"

He smiled. "No worries. I'm Kevin. Kevin Entwhistle. And no, we've never spoken before."

She held out a hand. "Her-"

"No, no. Let me guess. I think I've seen you in the prophet," he joked. "Hermione Granger." She laughed and it felt nice to joke about how she was basically famous now. It usually just put a target on her back.

"Yeah, that's right."

"Well then, Hermione Granger. I should let you get to class. Try to be more careful on the stairs from now on."

She waved at him and watched him go. It was strange that she'd never spoken to him before now. She thought she knew most of the students in her year and the year before. He must have flown below the radar, not unusual for a Hufflepuff.

Arithmancy flew by, as did the rest of the school day. She found herself on rounds with Malfoy too soon, wandering the empty halls as dusk turned to night. It had been days since they patrolled together, even though it was meant to be a near nightly occurrence. After what had happened the last time they were alone, Hermione hadn't wanted to put herself in that position. He was too unpredictable. She was too unpredictable.

The Slytherin pushed open one of the heavy oak doors guarding the great hall. She didn't think any students had the gall to sneak into the cavernous room, but it was on their list of areas to patrol anyway.

The ceiling swirled above them, all colors of the night sky. They walked down the aisles of tables, occasionally peeking under to make sure no one was hiding beneath them. "I'm asking McGonagall to hire outside catering and that's final," she declared, continuing with the argument they had been tossing back and forth for the past ten minutes.

"I told you I do not give a single fuck."

"Madam Rosemerta can provide the drinks."

"Whatever."

"She'll have to agree," she muttered, more talking to herself at this point.

"She won't." She whirled at him.

"Well she'll just ha-"

"Right. Because everyone has to do exactly what the Gryffindor princess says." She decided to let that one go, instead focusing on something more important.

"And, Malfoy? Don't forget this dance we're supposed to partner for. If you leave me standing there like an idiot, I swear you'll regret it. I already told Cormac-"

He laughed under his breath. "McLaggen? That's who you're going with? I thought you had higher standards, Granger. Guess not." Never before had she felt the need to defend Cormac McLaggen.

"There is nothing wrong with Cormac McLaggen." They finished patrolling at the professor's table and headed back towards the doors.

"There is everything wrong with Cormac McLaggen. He's a little prick. I made him cry once."

"That doesn't surprise me. You're awful. And he's nothing like you." They reached the double doors and she reached to open one. His hand pushed against it from behind her, holding it closed. She could feel the heat of him against her back. It licked up her spine, buzzing to her brain.

"What are you doing?" She hated how her voice betrayed her.

"Turn around." His voice was low, gritty. It felt like a physical caress on her skin. "Turn around, I want to see your face."

She moved, only because there really wasn't anywhere else to go. He was so close, his lips nearly skimmed her cheek. Finally, she was facing him. His brows were pulled together, a mean glint in his eyes. That's when she realized. He was annoyed. He always seemed at least a little pissed off, but she was getting used to reading his moods.

"What?" She should have broken away from him and left. Or at least made it clear that he couldn't push her up against walls. But she waited, the same curiosity that had always gotten her into trouble keeping her there now, pinned in place by his gaze. His other hand came up to touch her waist, wrapping around it, holding her there. He was close enough to kiss and she thought of that other night. Her body and mind warring with each other at the thought of a repeat.

"You think McLaggen can turn you on like this? Do you think he could get you off?" He hand slid up her torso, his thumb brushing the underside of her breast over her blouse. Heat spread outward along her veins, an ache pulsing to life in her core. "No, I don't think so. You're right, Granger. I'm nothing like him."

Her breath stuttered between them. No, he was nothing like Cormac McLaggen. Dealing with him would be a lot easier if he was. Boys like Cormac were simple things. After one thing and used to getting it. The same could be said about Malfoy, but there was a stark difference between them.

Boys like Cormac didn't make her palms sweat and her skin prick with anticipation. They fumbled with bra hooks, kissed sloppily, and weren't interested in paying attention to what their partner's body was responding to. Even in her limited experience, she knew enough to be sure of that. She also knew enough to be sure that Malfoy was not like them.

He dragged his lips down the side of her neck, light enough that she barely felt them.

"And you don't want me to be like him." His words were hot against her skin, his body caging hers against the door, but oddly, she didn't feel trapped. At least, not in a way that she didn't like. There was that sensation of realness pounding in her chest, and she wanted him closer as much as she wanted him to disappear from her life.

She scoffed, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of hearing what he wanted to. "It's foolish. To be so full of yourself."

"That's really fucking ironic coming from you, isn't it?"

The hand pressed to the door by her ear slid off the wood and out of view. She felt it reappear on her hip, brushing over the curve of it, landing on her skirt covered thigh. She stayed where she was, staring at his glacial eyes. "The issue with your logic is that you're wrong."

He narrowed his eyes, the tip of his nose nearly touching hers. "I think you're lying." Her temper flared. He was so sure he had her figured out. She felt her face twist into something like a sneer.

"How do you figure that?"

The hand on her thigh moved lower, until he had to stoop to reach the bottom of her skirt's hem. She gasped, ready for what came next. He drew up the fabric as his hand skimmed up her leg, over the juncture of her thigh and pelvis. Her breath rushed out of her when he finally pressed two fingers against the gusset of her knickers, hard.

He snickered, making fun of her. "Well, for one, you're already wet for me. It really turns you on doesn't it? Knowing how fucked up this is. How wrong we are."

She tried not to pant as he moved his fingers, rubbing back and forth across her clit over the fabric. "Stop talking. You're ruining this." She wanted to feel the pleasure without the guilt of knowing who was providing it. She should have known he wouldn't allow that.

His fingers left her, taking their warmth with them. Her eyes snapped open right before he grabbed the front of her knickers and pulled them upwards. The material dug into her flesh in a way that was painful but built a similar ache inside her that she was trying to find with his hand. She rose up on her tiptoes to ease the burning, whimpering as she teetered. She grabbed his arm for balance.

"I don't like your attitude tonight. I thought you were paying attention in the library. I thought you would know that I'll give you what you want if you're good for me. And don't lie to me, Granger. I already know that you like it when I talk to you like this."

The sting of her sensitive skin was starting to make her desperate. Her calves burned with the effort of balancing on her toes. "Malfoy, please."

"That's better." He let go of her underwear, letting her drop back to her heels. Her shoes made a hollow clack against the stone floor. One of his hands worked the buttons of her shirt open, exposing her heated skin to the cold air, while the other found its way back to the seam of her knickers. His fingers skated the edge of the fabric, teasing. She stiffened, oddly self conscious of her bra covered breasts being bared to him. It was silly, considering he had already seen much more of her.

She tipped her head away when he pulled back to look at her, but the dark look in his eyes kept her mesmerized, wondering about his reaction. Her shirt was unbuttoned to the base of her sternum, her sheer bra leaving little to the imagination. She knew her chest was plenty big enough, maybe too big. She didn't have the willowy figure of the girls she usually saw him with. But she would be damned if she let herself worry whether she had Malfoy's preferred body type.

"Fuck. Look at you. What are you fucking doing to me, Granger?"

She gasped as he kissed her neck again, his mouth pressing hot down to her clavicle. She moaned aloud when he sucked the skin there, surely leaving bruises. The sound of her reaction was loud in the very public space. Too loud, but she ignored it.

The ache in her clit was nearly unbearable. She wanted, no, needed his touch there again. Like last time. Her legs shook, but she managed to spread them apart a little further, making it clear what she expected from him.

He laughed low in his throat and finally dragged her soaking knickers aside. The air was so cold on her slick skin, but then he pushed his finger inside her. Just one, but it was enough to make her feel stretched open. His fingers were so much longer and thicker than hers. They seemed to caress every spot inside her at once. She whimpered and ground down on his hand.

"That's it. Just as tight as I remembered," he said against her throat. The heel of his palm landed on her clit, grinding into it as he worked his finger in and out. She was already close. "Move your hips. Just like that."

He slid his hand around the base of her throat, just like last time. "Would you let McLaggen do this to you? Could you come around his fingers in the great hall like this?"

His lips were close to hers now, and she kissed them instead of answering him. Because she knew the answer. And so did he. He obliged her for a moment, kissing down into her mouth as she whimpered for him.

His finger hooked inside her, stroking that spot with every movement. "Answer me, Granger."

She resisted for a moment. Until he quickly found a rhythm that made her feel like her legs were about to fail her. "Tell me the truth. Could he ever get inside you? I don't think he could. I don't think you would ever be such a dirty little head girl for that pathetic fuck."

She caved, squeezing her eyes shut, tipping her head into the crook of his neck as the sensation threatened to crumble her. "No, no I wouldn't," she whispered into his shirt.

He braced her body against the door with his arm and that's when she made a mistake. She grabbed his arm for balance, gripping at his sleeve. The bone white material slid up his forearm, exposing the sinister black lines of his Dark Mark. Just the lower third of it, a snake head peeking out from the cuff of his sleeve. But it was enough to make her blood run cold.

Her whole body locked up, slipping into fight or flight mode before she could get a hold of herself. He seemed to sense it, stilling inside her and looking down into her face. Her heart pounded, and this time it was from panic rather than anticipation.

"I can't," she gasped out. He was already withdrawing his hands from everywhere they held her. He took a step back, still watching her like a hawk. She was breathing hard. Too fast. Just like in the dress shop.

"I can't do this with you," she whispered harshly. The mark. It was a stark reminder of who he was. The prejudice that had tainted every interaction they had since starting school together. "I'd be a fool to let someone who feels the way you do about people like me do this. Such a fool." Her voice came out as a broken whisper, near tears. She wrapped her arms around her chest, her hands shaking too bad to button her shirt. "What's already happened is bad enough. It's disgusting."

He tipped his head back. It was hard to see him in the dim light, his face half in shadow. "Do you think I wanted this to happen, Granger? Doing this with you? Do you think I planned it this way? Because I didn't," he snarled. He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "But some things are unavoidable. I can't stop thinking about it. It makes more sense to let it run its course, get it over with. Suck it out like poison."

She snapped her head back like she had been hit with a physical blow. This is what he thought of her then. Poison in a puncture wound. After the final battle, she had treated classmates suffering from Nagini's bites. Spelled away the black death crawling up their veins to their hearts. She did not want to be anyone's poison. "That proves my point. That's what I am to you. Blood poisoning. Something you have to suffer through to get rid of."

"I'm not talking about your blood, Granger. This isn't about your blood. Not anymore."

She nearly laughed. "How can you say that? It's always been about blood." Blood and venom and temptation. She yanked up one sleeve so he could see her matching mark. The slur cut into her skin as he watched. "This is proof enough."

His head dropped in shame, but she was already on her way out the door, hastily buttoning her shirt as she went. This is what she was good at, running from him. She kept moving until she reached their private bathroom, prepared to scrub the feel of him from her skin. Because it would be better, safer to forget. Forget how good and real and perfect it felt to be pinned against the door by her enemy.

She didn't expect to stand under the hot spray of the shower trying to replicate what his finger had felt like inside her, but found herself doing exactly that anyway. Tears threatened to spill over her eyelids as she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to recall that feeling. That feeling of being in her body. Of being perfectly in control despite having her control taken away. He stopped as soon as she had frozen, before she even had to ask. She didn't realize how important that was to her. No one she had been with had seemed to care that her body wasn't responding. That she wasn't okay. Why hadn't they stopped? They were supposed to care about her.

Tears dripped off her chin as she sank to the tile floor. Why hadn't Ron stopped? The realization Malfoy unknowingly brought her to cracked her in half. No one took care of her. She was sick of taking care of everyone else. She wrapped her arms around her knees, sobbing.

The world was starting to feel like a lie. Nothing made sense anymore. Because she hated Malfoy. And he hated her. But the things he did to her felt right. And that was one puzzle she couldn't solve.