Chapter Fourteen: Perfidy & Prose

After their 'non-date' to Hogsmeade, it was the little things Hermione's friends started to notice. Like the way Draco waited for her outside of classes he did not share with her, or the way Pansy pitched an epic fit over breakfast one day as Draco lazily dumped the witch in front of their House. Though Hermione would never tell anyone, she had been secretly pleased with the display as she sipped her morning coffee and nibbled on a slice of toast three tables over. The school started gossiping about their supposed coupledom two days later. The rumors weren't exactly true, but neither she nor he said anything to deny it.

It was the major changes, however, Hermione dissected in her mind. Like the erratic way her heart jumped and sputtered when Draco would give her a wicked smile as they walked in the hallways, or the way an itch seemed to be ever present between her shoulder blades, or the way he would dazzle with a chaste kiss to the knuckles, as she were a dessert he wanted to savor.

She couldn't tell if his reactions were genuine or a by-product of her Veela inheritance, which worked in overtime to seduce her mate, much to her displeasure. They were walking to a favored spot as of late, the shores of the Great Lake, when she experimented with the pheromones she recently gained control of. It was purely research she told herself, as she sighed beside the blond.

Glancing out of the corner of her side, Hermione had not been expecting Draco to lick his lips, which caused her heart to stitch in return. A hand found its way to the small of her back in response.

Oh, Merlin.

Warmth spread from her lower back as something within her purred in content. This could be interesting; but Hermione was, if anything, practical as she worried her lower lip. She did not want Draco falling for Veela charms and hormones. She wanted him to care for who she was truly, and not for the lust she could pull out of him. She reign the pheromones back in as they approached the lake.

For now, she was content to be in his presence. She would work harder to stay the being within, who wanted nothing more than to claim her mate.

She mimicked his movement and placed her bag on the ground besides his. "Why are we here again?" she asked, slightly annoyed. "We both need to get a start on the essay for Potions."

Draco loosened his cloak and cast a warming charm over them. "That essay is due in December."

"Along with three other assignments," she argued back. She didn't like feeling out of control, and taking time off her assignment schedule made for a stressed witch.

Draco gave her a smirk and a wink. "Pity, you have another assignment that demands your attention first."

"Excuse me?" She smiled back, content to skivv off this once, as she crossed her arms.

"I don't blame your father," he began. "He's busy with the Ministry and the war, and I know your friends couldn't possibly possess the proper knowledge."

Confused, she sought clarity, "I'm afraid I don't follow."

Draco tsked, "You're sorely lacking proficiency in all things pureblood-related. It's about time someone taught you the finer things in our world."

That made her laugh. "And I suppose you'll be the one to teach me, then?"

He shrugged. "Someone has to."

Sighing, she pressed, "What on earth for? I hardly see such tutelage as useful."

Haughtily, he replied, "As if my fiancée would be anything but gifted in pureblood particulars?" His use of the possessive made her heart flutter. "Come now, Granger, I thought you knew better."

She somewhat recovered and emphasized, "Your fiancée would rather focus on more important things."

His hand pushed against her lower back, and she swiftly lost her train of thought.

"Come on, it'll be fun," he teased to the shell of her ear.

He taught her through Halloween, and all of November. Sometimes they would meet outside, sometimes in the Room of Requirement. But Hermione had to admit, Draco was an excellent teacher. She hated that was a need to learn whom to address first when entering a room, how a proper witch should dress, or act, but she sought to understand it for Draco's sake, and for her father's, too. She kept coming back to her discussion with Kingsley before the start of the school year. Had it not been for the attack, she would have grown with this knowledge already and would have accepted it as her lot in life. And in time, she began to see the utility of subtly changing their world from the inside, rather than burning it down from the outside. Draco shared the inner workings of the Sacred Twenty Eight; she could never receive this information from a book. And bit by bit, she committed his teachings to memory, should there ever be a test on the subject.

There was one area, however, she still struggled in.

"Again," Draco ordered as he observed her from his place on a log a few feet away. They met in their usual spot by the lake. "You shouldn't wobble like a hippogriff, Granger."

Hermione scowled as she rubbed her sore ankles in the transfigured shoes, "I'm sorry, are we meeting royalty soon?" Her sensible Mary Janes had been transfigured into pointy-heeled shoes of death; her feet were on fire as she balanced among the uneven rocks that lined the shore. Draco chose the shore stating that if she learned to balance among the rocks, she could maintain her balance anywhere.

"I hardly expect my fiancée not know how to curtsy properly," he drawled, motioning for her to curtsy again.

Hermione rolled her eyes and exaggerated her next curtsy. "Is this better, good sir?" she mocked as she placed the toe of her right foot behind her left leg, centered herself, and lowered along her knee; she spread her hands in embellishment. Slowly, she raised back up, but blasted heels made her lose her balance once more. She groaned in frustration.

Draco stood from the log and circled around her. He lined up behind her and placed a light hand on her hip. The warmth of his chest pressed against her back as he used his free hand to lift the underside of her chin. "Again," his breath tickled her curls. "Your chin should remain level, your hands pleasantly at your side."

Hermione leaned into him, keenly aware of minimal space that separated them. She couldn't help the shakiness in her voice as she tried to reply, "I knew your lot was antiquated, though I underestimated by how much."

Draco chuckled behind her; she could feel the low rumble on her back. There went that annoying itch between her shoulder blades again as she tried to roll her shoulder to smooth the itch away. His voice lowered, "Antiquated maybe, but you catch more flies with honey, Granger. Remember that." A finger pulled a lock of hair behind her ear. She shivered at the light touch. "There's a reason why pureblood witches can run roughshod over any man she chooses."

Unbelievably, she turned her head over her shoulder. "Really?"

Draco's mouth hovered just above her nose. She could smell the chocolate and mint on his breath. "Truly," he answered. "Every wizard worth his weight in gold looks for a witch who reminds him of her mother, or his governess."

Hermione started again and this time, curtsied without wobbling. She noticed Draco did not move his hand from her hip. Not that she wanted him to. "And you, good sir?" She put on her poshest accent. "Who are you looking for?"

"No one at the moment."

"Not one thing?" Her lips twisted in disbelief as she returned both feet to the ground. Turning in her heels, she found him chuckling at her. She tempered the flash of uncharacteristic jealousy and blushed fiercely.

Tracking the blush across her cheeks, Draco fixed her with a stare that made her breath catch. "Well, there has been this witch..." A corner of his mouth lifted as he closed the distance between them, his hands pulled from his pockets to …

"Oi! Hermione!" Ron's shout broke the two teens apart.

Draco cursed under his breath, "Bloody hell!"

He did not move away as Hermione answered her friend, a bit flustered. "Yes?"

Ron looked at the close space between Hermione and Draco with narrowed eyes before replying, "Harry and I finished practice. You said you would meet us in the library for help on our essay."

"For bloody sakes, you and Potter can't figure it out on your own?!" Draco growled above her.

Hermione turned to Draco, the disappointment clear on both of their faces. "Rain check?" she asked with a timid smile.

Draco pushed his tongue between his teeth, clearly as frustrated as she, and nodded. He ignored Ron as he excused himself, grabbed his bag, and left. It hurt to watch him go, almost to the point of pain.

With a heavy sigh, Hermione transfigured her heels back into her Mary Janes and walked with Ron to the castle. Every few steps, she turned to glance over her shoulder, seeking out a blond head moving further away.

"Say, Hermione?" Ron asked as they made their way inside the castle.

Distracted by where the almost-moment could have ended up, she replied, "Yes?"

Ron was uncharacteristically quiet for a beat, which managed to draw her complete attention. He was fidgety, his neck aflame, as he scratched the back of his neck. Something within her stomach instantly soured. "I've been speaking with Ginny lately… you know how she and Harry are."

Hermione smiled at the recent memory of her friend and Ron's sister at Madam Rosemerta's, sitting together, very much immersed in the other. "Yes, they seem to be getting on well."

"Yeah. They do. The thing is … she told me something recently. And I figured what was the point of dragging things out any longer, you know?"

Hermione paused in the hallway, eyes sliding to her friend. "No, I'm afraid I don't."

"Well, we," Ron indicated to himself, then to her, "always seemed to get on well."

Hermione raised a brow at that. "We're friends, yes," she clarified.

Ron swallowed and she shrank away, immediately sensing where this was heading. "Have you ever thought about being more than friends?" he suggested cautiously.

No. "Well…" she trailed and looked away, stalling for Harry, Neville, or anyone to come around the corner and save her.

"The thing is," Ron continued. "I have. Ginny says with the war coming, it's imperative that we stick together more than ever."

Hermione turned her gaze back to him, giving up hope of an intervention. "I don't see how the war has anything to do with it."

"I mean, the Order and Dumbledore's Army. It makes sense for Harry and Ginny to be together, just like it makes sense for you and me."

She blinked, reading between the lines, "… As opposed to me and Draco, you mean?"

Ron sighed, "People are starting to talk, Hermione."

As if she cared about the rumors that constantly followed her, she waved the concern away. "People have been fascinated with my life since my heritage came to light."

Ron scratched his neck at that. "And that's why it's imperative for you make the right choice."

Her eyes narrowed. "I'm sorry?" He could not mean what she thought he did.

"Your father is the bloody Minister for Magic. Malfoy's father is a Death Eater," he said as if it made absolute sense. But had she learned that life, friendship, and families were complicated. Not everything came simply as in black and white.

"That doesn't make Draco a Death Eater, Ronald!"

"Give me a break, Hermione! His entire family is sympathetic to you-know-who's cause. Always has been." He crossed his arms. "It's 'bout time you made a decision on where you stand."

"As if the decision hadn't been more clear!" She stepped away from Ron in disgust. "Do you honestly believe I'd switch my loyalty from Harry? After everything we've been through!?"

"It's hard to tell with how you've been carrying on lately. Everywhere I look, it's you and Malfoy," Ron sulked as the conversation rapidly diverted away from his original intentions.

"That's because we've been promised to one another, you dolt!" she shouted at him. She wanted to whack him with the heaviest book in her bag to drive the point home. "His father and mine made an arrangement when we were infants. Draco and I are just coming to terms with it ourselves, before we decided to share with our friends. There's a reason he broke it off with Pansy Parkinson. There's a reason he's been escorting me to classes."

Ron looked peak-ish. "Bloody hell!" He ran a hand through untidy red hair as he whispered to himself, "Then Gin did all of this for nothing."

Now Hermione was perplexed. "Did what?"

Ron gulped as he backed away. He held up his hands in surrender, and that was never a good sign. "You have to understand," Ron implored. "She thought it made the most sense."

Hermione's wand lowered into her hand in warning. "What, Ronald, made the most sense?" she clipped dangerously, her wand tapping against her knee.

Dejected, Ron knew he was trapped as she backed him into the wall. "Gin wrote Mum a letter when you told us you were a Shacklebolt. Said it made perfect sense with our families fighting in the Order. Said you would see how loyal we were to you, and always had been from the start, if we played it right…" He trailed off in a whimper when her wand found its way to his chest.

"You mean to tell me, Ginny and Molly, went to the Prophet?" she cried between clenched teeth.

"I didn't know she did at the time, I swear! I had my suspicions, but it wasn't until I forced it out of her a bit after your birthday."

Hermione dropped her wand and backed away from him. "You knew about this for two months? Who else knows? Who else, Ronald?!"

He shook his head to drive the point home. "No one, I swear. But Hermione, you have to know, what I said earlier is true. I care about you, a lot."

"As if I believe that!" she harrumphed indignantly.

"Well, it's bloody true if you'd shut up and listen for once!"

She smacked him. The anger and betrayal found its way to her hand and she laid it across his cheek. His head turned with the force of her slap. "How can I ever trust you and your family again? I told you both something in confidence and was then was exposed in the Prophet soon after. Kingsley and I were blind sighted, betrayed by the people we thought we could trust." Anger made her magic dangerous as she felt her wand arm itch with need.

With one hand on his smarting cheek, Ron reached forward to grab the arm not holding her wand. She shook him loose, hating that tears gathered in her eyes. "Don't!" she warned. "Don't think you can claim ignorance now. You knew back in September."

His shoulders slumped, but he pressed on, "I'm sorry, okay?"

Hermione shook her head, bravely holding back tears. If she hadn't been friends with him since first-year she would have ended the friendship right there. "Leave me alone." She turned and walked away. "I can't speak with you, right now. You can explain to Harry why I won't be joining you in the library."

Instead of heading to the library or her dorm, Hermione headed straight for the prefects' bathroom on the fifth floor. She felt used, and dirty. Every time the conversation with Ron replayed itself in her head, she grew angrier. Her hands itched to do something, but she knew it was best to calm down before she did something rash.

Finding the exclusive bathroom empty, she quickly set the water in the expansive jeweled tub to her preferred temperature and stripped off her school uniform. The annoying itch she had felt earlier with Draco was back with a vengeance as she slipped under the hot water. She emerged hoping the water would soothe the knots in her tired muscles. Lazily, she played with the bubbles, washed her hair, and generally soaked until she was a prune as she forced her mind to go blank. She floated in the large bath, and closed her eyes. Looking deep within, she could feel the being of peace: she wanted out, she wanted Draco.

Hermione opened her eyes on a smile as the hot water worked wonders on her back. She wanted Draco, too, she admitted to the being. It wasn't hard to see why her Veela had chosen Draco as its mate. He was intelligent, wickedly handsome, and just as stubborn as she. She had teased his refined, polished manor as antiquated, but something as simple as kissing her knuckles or offering his arm when they walked was enough to make her swoon.

But what was even more telling, was that he was purposefully taking things slow for her benefit. Other than a well-placed touch or two to her hip, or her back, Draco did not move as fast as he did with other witches. Maybe because he knew this was different. It made her feel special, as she smiled to herself.

He was killing her softly with polite kindness as she sunk under the water, utterly spellbound by thoughts of her mate.

She emerged to the surface, thoughts solely on Draco, and not on Ginny's betrayal – quite confident that would sort itself out on its own. She exited the tub and reached for her towel, just as another prefect came into the room. Perfect timing, she was perfectly relaxed and ready for a long nap.

Hermione wrapped the towel high around her chest. "I'm leaving now," she called, as she wrapped a second towel around her head to contain her wet curls.

"Oh, Hermione!" Padma Patil exclaimed behind her. "Your tattoo is beautiful. When did you get it?"

Hermione whirled to find the Ravenclaw approaching her partially-covered back. "What?"

"Does it extend all the way?" the witch peered around as she tried to peek beneath Hermione's towel.

Hermione pulled her towel closer to her body, cutting off access to the other prefect. Her mouth opened and closed, unsure what to say. "I'm sorry, but I need to use the loo," she backed away, before hurrying to the girls' lavatory. Finding her bag, she took out a small book and quickly transfigured it to a hand-held mirror.

Standing before the large mirror witches used to preen themselves, Hermione turned around and let the towel drop. She angled the hand-held mirror until… she saw it.

She gasped at the sight.

From the tips of her shoulder blades, to down and across the expanse of her back sat the most intricate tattoo: a folded set of wings. The folded wings fluttered like a butterfly, free of its cocoon, all the way to the small of her back before feathered tips graced the top of her bum. The feathers were a translucent white, outlined in silver. They shivered across her back as if they were real and ready for use.

With her free hand, she reached around her waist to touch the tattoo, but all she could feel was damp skin. Even though the tattoo moved as if a living thing, the wings were elegantly tattooed onto her skin, and perfectly tailored to fit her back. She watched in the mirror as the feathers ruffled and stretched. It was like a magical portrait had been painted on her back.

That was certainly interesting.

Facing the larger the mirror, Hermione noted the tips of the winged-tattoo could be seen above her clavicle. She made a note to be mindful of dressing in the morning to avoid additional questioning.

As she re-dressed into her school uniform, she figured that must had been the annoying itch between her shoulder blades. Her new tattoo had been etching itself onto her person. But what did it mean? Was it a part of her Veela inheritance?

Walking back to Gryffindor tower in thought, Hermione wagered if she should write her Aunt. Apolline could surely shed light on this new development.

Hermione mentally tabulated a list of questions she would first research, and then later write to Apolline. She might even write Narcissa, as she passed through Gryffindor's portrait door and straight into the frenzy within the common room.

Hermione continued to her room working theories in her head, oblivious to a shocked Ron and a stunned Harry as they surrounded an upset Ginny. Neville painted a hilarious picture, as he tried to hide a smile behind his hand. Dean and Seamus backed away from Ginny, as if her condition were contagious.

Wrapped in her thoughts, Hermione glided around them all, dimly aware of the din they made. She deftly ignored Ron's pleas as she ascended the staircase to the girls' dorms, completely unbothered.

Ron ought to have known that Hermione still maintained the jinxed-parchment she'd made them sign in fifth year. And so what, if she did not inform them that the jinx would not discriminate between one betrayal and the next.

Ginny had betrayed her.

The boils that spelled 'SNEAK' across her forehead would remain until she showed remorse. Hermione smirked to herself as she heard the feisty red-head bellow up the stairs after her.

"HERMIONE!"

an: Thank you all so much for your support - it keeps me going! Til next time~L