Hello! Welcome.
Readers form the Potioneers: I love you, but please leave. This is a completely different story from that one and I would recommend finding something else to read. Unless of course you like this sort of stuff, in which case I knew you all were hoping that rating would change to M.
EDIT: I am unable to just write trash romance without character development apparently. So this plot and word count on this has just gotten beefed up considerably.
Warnings
BDSM themes, graphic content, copious amounts of foul language, rough sex, toxic relationships, and a whole host of other general post war fuckery.
THIS IS NOT A RELATIONSHIP GUIDE IN ANY WAY, SHAPE, OR FORM.
This is going to be hella toxic for awhile and while the themes can be dramatic and romantic, they don't make for healthy stable relationships. If you see these types of themes in your own relationship please reach out to a trusted family member or friend. If you are unsure you may message me. While I may not have all the details I am a wholly neutral party and you can hide behind an anonymity of the internet. No judgements here.
Other than that, let's go! Enjoy your reading and share with whomever you deem worthy. I post little world building information at the end of the chapter along with Q and A. It is totally optional and the story will still read fine if you skip it. Okay bye!
Controlled burning-
The setting of planned fires to maintain the health of a forest and reduce the damage from spontaneous forest fires. These burns are scheduled for a time when the fire will not pose a threat to the public or to fire managers. When forest conditions should call for a controlled burn the weather conditions should also be right to allow burning but not enable a fire to spread out of control.
Hermione shivered under the magical pressure from the castle. She had spent such a long time away that she had forgotten how it felt, growing with her magic and settling into a part of her. The year-long absence set them on two different paths and they no longer fit. Like most things nowadays.
Just like her and Ron no longer fit. How sitting on the train without waving goodbye to her parents didn't fit. The way people laughed openly and freely while she quietly turned over puzzle pieces in her mind, far far away. Everyone wanted to forget, and they all tried in their own ways. But not her, she already forgets too much. She would remember each of them until the day she died, and she still spent most of her hours trying to piece together the puzzle of how she could have done better.
Which was why she was hiding in an alcove just outside the Great Hall, tracking the people coming in. Harry and Ron had already settled inside, Ginny joining them after a concerned inquiry. It was easy to brush them off, Head girl duties provided a perfect excuse. It wasn't even a total lie; she had already seen two fights start in the foyer as some high-profile students crossed paths with those whose emotions were still raw.
She broke them up, of course, and sent the injured parties to the hospital wing. That wasn't to say she didn't understand the instigators. She wasn't present for the reign of the Carrows, but what Neville had said made their Horcrux hunt sound like a vacation.
It took all summer for her to forgive, to accept that some people were just a product of their circumstance and to leave them alone in their misery. Honestly, it was one of the only positive consequences of how her mind now worked. She was unable to hold on to much of anything, and that included hate, as well. It was exhausting, so she forgave and forgot about them.
All except for one.
He didn't fit. Where all the other young Death Eaters had clear, predictable shapes that clicked together as expected, their parents and behaviors all part of the same image, he did not. At first glance it would be easy to mistake, but on close inspection his curve was in the wrong place, the color a shade brighter than the rest of them. A diagonal edge that shouldn't exist, throwing off the whole image.
"I- I can't be sure."
Why? She had to know why. She never left a puzzle unfinished. And she had the right. Perhaps more than anyone.
She rubbed her arm absently, the scar still settling into her skin. The healers told her she couldn't scratch it. It was like asking her to paint a house with a toothbrush. Instead she worked on her puzzles, trying to scratch a different itch in her mind.
The hat had started singing. Some dribble about clean slates and not forgetting history. Well, she could agree with that last bit, at least.
Finally she saw him sneaking along the wall, his blond hair catching the slight torchlight, blanching it to eggshell. He moved through the shadows, weaving in and around alcoves and objects alike with the grace and practice of someone who didn't want to be seen. She glanced around, sure they were alone. Hagrid had led in the first years at least ten minutes ago, and at this point any stragglers were probably not coming down at all. Not that she blamed them. Too many seats sat empty in that hall. She waited patiently until he was close enough that if he tried to run she would be able to grab his robe.
"Malfoy!" She hissed. She stepped out of her own hiding place and directly into his path, giving him just enough space to pull up a foot short of her. Close. Incredibly too close. But right now she didn't care. His body jerked quickly as he tried to step around her. Her hand shot out just as he stepped to her right, catching his sleeve with an iron grip, her feet planted. He was not getting away.
"What?" He questioned dully looking straight ahead. She watched his jaw twitch as he shoved his clenched hands into his pockets. He looked dreadful. Maybe worse. He still had that cold, aristocratic beauty he always did. It was wholly unfair that someone so cruel could be so attractive. She had checked with Ginny to make sure there was nothing wrong with her this summer only to have the redhead confirm it. He was fit, an absolute arsehole but still fit. Which was just bloody fantastic to hear. Her thoughts were already jumbled enough without having to worry about keeping odd attractions in mind. The last thing she needed was to start fantasizing about Professor Snape.
She stumbled over the idle thought. It was likely in bad taste to make jokes about the dead.
How would one apologize to a dead person? She wondered.
"Granger," he prompted just as dully as the first time. He was still staring astutely ahead next to her, jaw twitching slightly. While she tried to reign in her loose thoughts—they were happening more frequently these days, something that scared her—she studied him again. He was surprisingly elegant, though it was made harsher by the sharp edges of his bones, which pushed deeply against his skin as if he hadn't been eating. Dark smudges swept across the white cast of his skin beneath his eyes like an errant stroke of watercolor maring a new canvas. She could almost miss the characteristic smirk on his face when she found it replaced a tight, stoney line. "Well, take your shot."
"What?" She questioned. She shook her head, trying to kick-start her brain back to reality. She had mentioned its prolectivity to wander to a few people who all got that look of pity in their eyes and inanely suggested she go to see a mind healer. They all said the same thing. Coping very well. No discernable damage. Above average intelligence. Very good, Miss Granger, all things considered.
They only said that because they didn't know what she had lost. That she could no longer focus on more than one thing at once and that her mind would drift away if she didn't hold it in a death grip. To them she was fine. To her it was like she had lived her whole life in technicolor only to have dropped into sepia at the very last moment. He was looking at her. Had he said something else? This was not going according to plan.
"I assume you isolated me in the corridor after I took such specific pains to not get caught out by anyone in order to hex or curse me," he sighed.
"What? No. I-" she sputtered, rejecting the idea outright. Hexing in the halls was very very against the school rules, especially nowadays. And she was not one to hex an enemy in the back, no matter how badly they deserved it. But then again, he was sort of facing her now...
"Ah. Then you're going to hit me again." He nodded his head in confirmation. "The muggle way. I have to admit that in spite of its brutish delivery, it hurt quite a bit. As good of a choice as any, I suppose."
"I'm not going to hit you, Malfoy," she growled, listening to the shouted names of the first years interspersed with the sprinkling of applause as they settled in their new tables. She was missing it, the whole feast. And she still hadn't asked him yet.
"Then let go of my sleeve," he huffed, a sliver of anger leaking back into his tone. Finally, something familiar. Something she could latch on to.
"No. I have to ask you—"
She tugged harshly on his robe, pausing as he stumbled toward her. He still looked ahead, staring at the hallway like it was the most interesting thing on the planet.
"Look at me when I am speaking to you."
"No." His voice rumbled through the hall, echoing like distant thunder. She felt a shiver of something forbidden sneak up her spine. She tugged again, fighting against him as he tried to pull away. Her free hand shot around his wrist just as the material of his robes slipped from her other hand. He only made it a step further before she stopped him. Another spark of anger flickered in his eyes before they fell back to the muted gray.
Dangerous. Back away, her body warned.
"No?" He did not get to do this. Everyone else could change. Everyone else could become someone new and different. But not him. And certainly not to whatever hollow shell she had encountered in this hallway. She wanted a fight and Merlin be damned she was going to get it. He owed it to her.
"No," he repeated through clenched teeth, his tendons tensing under her hand. "Let go of me, Granger."
"Not until you look at me."
She tugged his wrist down, pulling his body closer. Closer than she intended. With barely a foot between them his body turned toward hers, eyes cast to the floor. Her brain woke, the constant fog around it lifting for one moment in the face of peril. She knew she was playing with fire, especially being alone. But she would have her answer one way or another.
With agonizing slowness he looked up, trailing from her feet and following the path of her body. His expression seemed so flat and for a moment she thought for sure she had reached another dead end. Another piece that did slot so perfectly into the puzzle with the rest of them that she would have to give up and just accept that she just didn't like the image.
But the moment his gaze touched her face his eyes flashed with lightning. Fear shot thin shocks down her spine at the complex, powerful emotions that until this moment had remained veiled. She was suddenly aware of how much taller he was than her. How much stronger. But she was faster. She could see the fight in her mind, the way she would beat him to the draw and dive off to the left since he was right handed. She knew what spells she would cast and for once her brain felt like it used to, flickering through thoughts as naturally as a fish in water.
"Fucking. What." he breathed, almost panting as his eyes promised a very painful sort of death. It sent her heart racing, as her mind cataloged the exits. Yes, he did not quite fit, did he?
"Why?" she demanded, clenching his wrist too tightly. If he noticed, he didn't care. His mouth flicked up into a snarl.
"Why what?"
"You have to ask?" she scoffed, pulling at him until inches separated them, sending her blood searing through her veins which begged her to run or fight. His was hot against her nose.
"Why did you let us go?"
"I did nothing of the sort," he responded sharply.
"You knew. You knew it couldn't be anyone else." Her grip tightened again. "So Why. Didn't. You. Tell?"
There, another flash of something. Just as quickly, it was gone, his hackles lowering and his eyes glazing back over to the color of concrete. She could barely contain a whine at the loss, like a child who had just broken a new toy. She tugged him again but this time he didn't budge.
"Don't know," he said, eyes drifting back down the hallway. "Just didn't."
She scowled at him, hating what he had turned back into. She wanted to hit him just to make him hit back. She wanted to duel until her magic was gone and then pound his face into the concrete until her muscles collapsed.
"Can I go now, Granger? The feast has started," he asked
Like a doll.
Suddenly the fog was back, covering her brain and surrounding her in apathy. She released his wrist, flexing her hand at the stiffness. He was boring again. And that made her dull.
"Yeah, Malfoy, you can go."
She stepped back with an exhale, not even caring if he reported it. Not that he would.
"Enjoy your feast, one of us should."
And for a moment she had hope. Life returned to his eyes, something curious or indignant. Something that would force him to demand answers. But it faded before she could even wrap her hand around her wand. He nodded briefly and slunk back to the shadows while Hermione turned back to the Great Hall, their footsteps echoing against each other in the empty hall.
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"Hermione?"
Hermione jerked up from her book, scowling as the bite of egg she was taking splattered on her robes. She glared up to meet Seamus slowly taking a step back with his hands raised in defense. "Woah, sorry. I- uh… Didn't mean to surprise you."
"You didn't surprise me." She tried to keep the bite out of her voice and let her shoulders relax, her wand sliding away under the table, far too keen for a fight for her own good. She forced herself to shake off the fog from her brain to respond. "I was just really focused. You know how I get when I read."
"Of course I do," Seamus chuckled lightly, sliding across from her and next to Ron, who simply pat him on the back before returning to his breakfast. He looked at her book in confusion. "But you have been on the same page for the last 10 minutes so I figured you were just daydreaming."
"I don't daydream." She smiled tightly. A smile she didn't quite feel. "I was just thinking about what I was reading."
"Uh…" Seamus glanced at Harry sitting just past Ron then back to her. "But… when you do that you usually chew on something. Your lip, your quill, your nail. Something like that." Did she? She hadn't noticed. But apparently Seamus of all people had. "Everyone in Gryffindor knows better than to bother you when you have that look on your face. I just thought-"
"What do you want, Finnigan?"
This time she failed to keep the ice from her voice and she saw him flinch. The table falling silent for a few people in each direction.
"Sorry. Uh. I just was wondering if you had your note from Transfiguration last—" She summoned them to the table with a thunk. Landing on the empty plate in front of him.
"Anything else?"
"Er… Thanks. No," he murmured, gathering up the notes with another glance at Harry. Even Ron was watching the exchange cautiously.
"Goodbye Seamus," she hinted, looking back down to her book on… dolphins? Why was she reading a book on dolphins? Although she supposed dolphins could be magical. They were remarkably intelligent by muggle standards, perhaps wizards—
"Sorry mate." Harry's voice floated past her mind like a thread. She latched on. "She… she gets like that sometimes. We find it's best not to—"
"It's fine. I get it. Tell her I will return them after Charms."
Hot anger burned her back to awareness, sparking along her nerves like gunpowder. Seamus wandered away and Harry sat back down. She waited until the conversation at the table started back up again before carefully closing her book. Harry and Ron both watched her cautiously, having been on the receiving end of the anger more times than she could count this summer.
"I appreciate you defending me," she ground out, not appreciating it at all. "But I can fight my own battles, thank you very much."
"Seamus was just—" Ron started.
"I know," she huffed, trying not to draw the attention of anyone else at the table. "I know."
"Hermione," Harry sighed, glancing to where Seamus exited the hall. "Are you o-"
"Fine." She cleared her throat making a show of returning to normal. She held the anger close to her chest, missing the clear moments so much she didn't want to give them up. "I'm fine. Thank you for asking."
"Uh," Ron cleared his throat looking down at his breakfast, a bit green. He bit out the words like they were poison. "Maybe… Maybe you should go see George again."
He coughed as the tips of his ears turned red. And just like that the anger left her, setting her drifting again. Still, her heart warmed to him for offering the suggestion, even though he hated it. And even though she wouldn't use it.
"Maybe I will." She lied.
But the suggestion had the desired effect. Both Ron and Harry relaxed as Ginny sat down with a yawn. Hermione let her attention float away from the conversation about strange dreams and first days to drift around the Great Hall, eyes catching on anything interesting, then discarding it just as quickly. Suddenly, her breath stuttered, boiling mercury caught her attention and she zeroed in on the clenched jaw and his slow blink. It was gone just as quickly as he turned to a younger Slytherin, with that fucking flat look on his face. She smiled to herself, the fire stoking again. She knew he was in there.
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She didn't see him again until the next day, her mind sparking like a live wire the second she could catch a glimpse of him in the halls or at meals. When she entered the dungeons for potions, her breath caught. Her pulse hammered at her skin as her eyes took in every detail around her, carefully analyzing and storing it.
He sat next to a Slytherin at the side of the room as Professor Slughorn charmed a piece of chalk to write out the instructions on the board. He scratched absent-mindedly at a piece of parchment with his cheek resting on his left hand.
"Miss Granger!" Professor Slughorn exclaimed in delight. He didn't jump, or even move, really. But even from a distance she could see the thick black line that suddenly scratched across his doodle. "So good to see you back. I have missed my little Potions Mistress. Now tell me, do you intend to finish your mastery after school?"
She spoke with Professor Slughorn until the start of class. Harry and Ron partnered up and Ginny made no complaint when Hermione insisted on the desk on the other side of the aisle behind him. Slughorn threw them into the proverbial fire with a differentacious potion. Ginny was thrilled to be taking most of her classes with the three of them, and to be quite honest Hermione was just grateful to have a competent partner for once. Especially one that didn't seem to notice the way Hermione's eyes flicked to the Slytherin side every now and again.
"I don't have enough Murplap spikes," Ginny grumbled from where she was stirring the cauldron in confusion. Hermione noted the sky blue color instead of the rich sapphire they were going for and glanced up at the board.
"We should… Oh I see. The recipe calls for dorsal spikes, we used tail spikes," Hermione said. "I'll go grab enough to make up for the difference."
"Thank Merlin," Ginny said as she reversed the stir. "It would have taken me ages to figure that out. You're a treat, Hermione."
Hermione smiled softly and puttered back to the stock room. She and Ginny had started right away but the other students weren't far behind. As soon as they started to notice the error it would be a mad scramble for the cabinet and she would be left with scraps. She tapped out the spikes from the canister onto a piece of parchment when a throat cleared.
"May I have that when you are done?"
She froze, glancing up at Malfoy as he stood a few feet away, that same placid look on his face. Who did he think he was fooling? Merlin, he was infuriating.
She glanced down at the parchment, sweeping her selection into her bare hand, not even flinching as one or two dug into her skin. She set the canister back on the shelf and turned back to him with a triumphant grin on her face.
"There you go, Malfoy," she huffed, waiting for the barb. She tried not to let her face fall when he just sighed and stepped back, waving her through. She raised an eyebrow at him and planted her feet, baiting out any sort of response. He stared at her, unmoving trying to wait her out.
When she didn't move, his jaw twitched and he stepped forward, reaching behind her, pulling out the spikes without a flicker of emotion. She considered throwing the spikes at his face when a flash of color on his wrist caught her attention.
A deep purple ring in the shape of a hand blossomed against his skin as he began to tap out the ingredient. The edges had begun to fade to a yellowish green that looked sickly and painful. Almost immediately, she felt her stomach turn. That nasty little flip that she hadn't felt since the war when she was stealing eggs from a farmhouse. She let out a gasp just as he pulled down his shirt cuff, hiding the evidence.
"I- I didn't mean to…"
He stared at her, his eyes narrowed. That oh-so-tempting cloud of anger gathering around him.
"I find that no one means anything Granger," he growled, holding the arm close to his side. Before she could respond she heard a concerned-sounding Ginny call her name from the classroom. When she looked back to Malfoy he was carefully tapping out spikes.
Justin Steele appeared in the doorway, humming to himself about the variation of tail versus dorsal spikes. He smiled at Hermione before frowning at the student behind her.
"Always first to catch on, aren't you Hermione?" The Ravenclaw chirped cheerfully.
"Not lately..." she murmured as he looked pointedly at the canister in Malfoy's hand before wandering to the cabinet.
"Have you seen murplap spikes?" he questioned oddly, considering he had just seen Malfoy using them.
"Er- yes. Malfoy—"
The blond in question sighed, setting down the canister and turning towards the door.
"Oh, there they are!" Justin laughed, grabbing the canister from the table. "I swear this place is haunted with how many things move in this stockroom."
Before she could respond the rest of the class began to filter in. She slipped out of the stock room, a dull ache of pain bloomed in her chest, and this time it did nothing to help her focus.
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Hermione was thinking on a rather complex Arithmancy equation a week later as she walked down the hall with Harry. He had asked her about how the angle of casting a spell can affect the rebound and she was still thinking about it when she unwittingly slammed into a bony mass of robes and silk.
"Merlin, Granger. Watch where you are going."
She slowly pulled her mind away from the problem just as Harry came trotting back. She supposed she had fallen behind and he failed to notice. There was a flash of silky black hair in front of her struggling to her feet. Oh, Parkinson.
"Sorry, Pansy." Harry said, sliding a hand under Hermione's arm, prodding her to her feet. Pansy shook out her robes with a few strong flicks of her wrist. "She was just—"
"Drunk?" Pansy suggested as a boy, Zabini, handed her a fallen book. "I don't care. Keep your space-case in line, Potter." She huffed and with a twist of her heel she was gone. Hermione breathed out, focusing on Harry as he muttered.
"Sorry. I didn't notice you'd—-"
"It's fine," she mumbled.
She got on her knees to pick up her belongings. He dropped down to help her. Why did she have so many quills? Right, she'd borrowed them and forgotten to give them back.
Lavender must be furious with me…
"Don't listen to Pansy. There's nothing wrong with you."
"Sure, Harry."
She ignored the way his shoulders tensed, the crease in his forehead. She opened her bag and he put the quills in before she pulled it over her shoulder.
"Let's head to Charms.".
"Er…" Harry paused, scratching the back of his head. "Defense Against the Dark Arts was our last class of the day, actually. It's about time to head to dinner."
She glanced out at the setting sun, filtering in from the courtyard. "Right. Sorry. I get Tuesday and Wednesday mixed up. Too many courses."
She kept walking, even when she heard him whisper under his breath, "It's Thursday."
Chatting with Om
Definitions:
Differentacious Potion: A potion that when poured on two similar objects will highly the differences between them. It is useful for artifact vaildation as well as quality control.
Q/A
Pairings?
Dramione, obviously. We have a short stint into Hermione/ George but it's really only for back story.
Post war info?
Hermione's parents are not in the picture/ story. Hermione and Harry stayed at the burrow all summer. Hermione and Ron broke up after living together for the past year and seeing the worst of each other. Still friends. Ginny and Harry made it through okay.
Will this get taken down?
Er... maybe. I have had issued with FFN nuking darker fics a few years ago but maybe this one flies under the radar. If not you can find it on Ao3 by the same name and author. You may also message me if it gets pulled and I will link you.
