February 1999—
Never in a thousand years did Hermione think she would be concerned over the health of Lucius Malfoy. Yet, as they lay in bed together—a pile of entangled limbs hiding from daybreak—Draco began speaking into the silence. Hermione found herself clinging to him as much as to his every word.
"They're not entirely sure how it happened," Draco explained. "Probably a victim's family member posing as a visitor and looking to lash out at any Death Eater they could. They don't think he was targeted. He has no visible injuries. There were great purple scorch marks all over his cell. Some fucking clue. He's been unconscious this whole time. His pulse is weak. They're trying to figure out the spell to help reverse the curse rather than just treat his symptoms. I'm sure it was Dark Magic. And, something about it… I just can't for the life of me place it. Not that it'd do any good, even if I could."
"Purple scorch marks?"
"That's the best they could describe them. But nothing on him… it doesn't make sense."
Hermione's brain went into overdrive. Could it be that simple: the same spell that hit her in fifth year? Her memory from that night was fuzzy. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to recall anything helpful. She remembered purple flames. Obvious. Had it been nonverbal? No, she had silenced Dolohov, otherwise… the spell would have been devastating! The color drained from her face at the realization that Lucius would have, of course, been wandless.
"Hermione? Hermione!"
She jolted out of her thoughts. Draco was looking at her with open concern. She pried her clenched fingers off of his arms and, for the moment, ignored the half-moon indents her fingernails had left behind.
"Sorry," she mumbled, then she pursed her lips. She dreaded the thought of giving him false hope. "Draco, I think we need to go see Madam Pomfrey."
"What's happened? Are you hurt?"
"No, no, nothing like that. It's just… I have a hunch." She grabbed his hand and hauled him out of bed. "Come on. If we hurry, I'll still be able to make it to Runes on time."
Having the excellent memory that she did, Madam Pomfrey knew the exact instance as well as the treatment she gave to Hermione back at the end of fifth year. This was no small feat, as Hermione remembered taking upwards of ten potions daily. But, Madam Pomfrey had consulted with Snape on the nature of the curse to create her treatment, making the situation unusual.
"An uncommon bit of Dark Magic. We were very lucky Professor Snapped knew about it," she said before she rushed off to make a floo call to St. Mungo's. Though, she did spare a moment to warn both Draco and Hermione that without certainty of the spell cast or damage done, this treatment option was all conjecture.
"Even so," Hermione had whispered as the school nurse bustled away.
Draco kissed her fiercely when they got to Professor Babbling's classroom, heedless of anyone watching. Then, he smiled at her softly, and with a quick, "See you in Herbology," was gone.
The day crawled by at an agonizing pace. After Ancient Runes, Hermione had the floo call with the specialist mind healer in McGonagall's office, and by the end, she felt like she needed a mind healer herself to work through her options. Immediately after, she had Arithmancy, which made things worse, despite a welcome change of Ernie devoting the class to offering her nonstop support.
Draco did not fare any better throughout the day. Though he was present in Herbology, his mind was gone. He ate dinner that evening without tasting a single bite. The weight on his shoulders left Hermione and even Ginny, who joined them at dinner, tense-browed with worry.
Later that night, after they had returned from the Astronomy tower and holed themselves up in Draco's bedroom, a bird tapped furiously on the window. Draco let it in and snatched up the parchment. Hermione held her breath. His eyes danced back and forth across the page. He reached the bottom and looked up at her, and the entire world hung there between them.
"You fucking brilliant witch."
Then he was on her, kissing her like a man starved and she, his only sustenance.
By the next morning, Hermione knew what it felt like to be well and truly ravished.
Sunlight streamed in through the windows. It was mid-February, but that did not stop the sun from waking up on that fine, Tuesday morning. Hermione opened her eyes to Draco. The night before came back to her along with a devilish grin. Her memory of his hands and tongue and teeth on her was so vivid, she could still almost feel them—almost. She filed away a mental note to check her neck for glamour charm needs before their first class of the day. But, for now, all she wanted to think about was Draco.
While asleep, his face was calm, relaxed, and a little vulnerable. At least, the bit of his face that she could see was. The rest was smashed into his pillow. His hair was askew in ten different directions, undoubtedly from how they spent the night awake as much as asleep. (She shuddered to think what her own hair would be like.) Hermione hated the idea of disturbing him, so she very carefully and quietly collected her wand and conjured her self a glass of water. There was no rush to be up. They started the day with a mutual double break period, so she took the opportunity to nestle herself back into his body. She ran her hands down his back and could not help herself as she gripped his tight bum. Her mind began to wander as he groaned and rolled onto his back.
Draco had been giving Hermione a lot of attention lately, and while she loved every second and more, she also acknowledged that her body was reaching its limits. A few days to rest would be needed for her, especially after last night. Draco, on the other hand, seemed to be insatiable, and she had just the idea for how to thank him.
Climbing atop him, she began press kisses all over his face. He groaned happily, so she continued. She made her way down his chest, placing kisses on all of the hard planes of his body. When she reached his boxers, she carefully pulled them down. Hermione did not need Draco's quickened breath to know he was enjoying this. Her tongue flicked out over his tip, and he moaned in that way that made her go crazy.
In that moment, Hermione knew her goal, and she was nothing if not an overachiever. She got to work, licking, sucking, and learning from his every reaction. When she felt his hand rest lightly on the back of her head, she did her best to take as much of him in her mouth as she could. She felt him thrusting ever so slightly as if trying to restrain himself. She redoubled her efforts until he was groaning and sputtering out warnings to her.
When he was spent, he wasted no time in kissing her and whispering her praises.
"Absolute sexiest witch alive."
"Mmm… Do tell."
"Do you want a list? Well, let's start with your eyes, windows to that brilliant brain of yours."
"And then?"
"Your lips. Merlin, your lips have skills I never dreamed possible."
"Hmm," she hummed pleasantly. "And what else?"
This continued for quite some time until they were forced to get up and dress or risk missing breakfast entirely.
"Hermione! Malfoy. I'm so sorry."
Draco froze beside Hermione as they descended his staircase together. Ernie was sitting at one of the stools in the kitchenette, and he had toppled over it in his haste to accost them. An unwelcome sense of déjà vu crept over her.
"Macmillan," Draco sneered, "what did you do now?"
"I didn't do anything! I swear it! It's that horrible woman!"
"What woman?" Hermione asked, forcing her voice to stay calm.
"That nasty reporter. I didn't say any of those things to her. All I did was tell her that it was none of her business and to bug off. She looked pretty freaked out, actually. I thought I'd gotten rid of her! But…"
"But what?" Malfoy's voice was ice.
"Well, she kept popping up, you see, all day on Sunday in Hogsmeade. She was everywhere Padma and I went. So, I really told her off. You can ask Padma! I even threatened her as Head Student that she was interfering with Hogwarts education. Finally, she said if I wouldn't give her the story she wanted, then I could at least answer some questions for her about this new Head Student bit." (Hermione groaned.) "It was all pretty basic stuff. Well, and it's our duty to promote our school, isn't it? I don't know how she twisted it like she did, but those quotes are entirely untrue. I'm going to make them publish a retraction!"
Ernie rambled on, but Hermione stopped listening. The sense of foreboding was overwhelming. Her mind ran to a thousand different awful thinks Rita Skeeter might say about her. Could she really not find better things to write about? Her last article was just two days ago! She barely registered when Draco pushed Ernie aside and grabbed the copy of The Daily Prophet off the counter. Or when Padma came down and whispered, "Oh shit, what did she write?" She only snapped back to reality when Draco wheeled on Ernie and punched him square in the jaw. Padma screamed. Ernie toppled backwards onto a couch. Draco shook out his fist and scowled.
"You fucking moron," he spat.
Ernie rolled off the couch and righted himself while Padma leapt to his side with a healing spell ready on the tip of her wand.
"Draco!" she gasped, but to everyone's surprise, Ernie held up a placating hand.
"No, Padma. I deserve that." Then, he met Hermione's eyes and held them. "I'm truly, truly sorry."
And suddenly, they no longer seemed to be talking about the article. No more words passed between them, but Hermione understood. His eyes were dark, riddled with guilt, and full of self-awareness.
"It's okay."
"No," Draco crumpled the Prophet page in his hands, "it's really not."
He made for the door, and a second later Hermione hastened after him. Her head was returning to her.
"Draco," she said, but he kept walking. "Draco? Draco!"
"What?"
"Give me that article."
"No."
"I'm not a child. Give it to me."
"I said, no."
"I have a right to know what she's printed about me!"
"Not this time." He moved to turn away from her again.
"Excuse me?" She grabbed his arm and wheeled him back around.
"Fine! You have a right, but trust me when I tell you this time, you don't want to know."
"And why is that?"
"Because your eyes should not have to read trash like this. You're worth more."
"Flattery won't work here. Nor does punching Ernie!"
"He deserved it."
Hermione scowled. "Violence is never the answer."
"Now's not the time, Hermione. You can preach at me another time, but this time, I'm in the right. That fucking imbecile should never have engaged Rita Skeeter."
"He said it was an accident!"
"Of course he did."
"He apologized!"
"So? Do you think he wants you mad at him? Slamming him up against the walls again?" Draco's eyes were wild, unhinged, in a way she had never seen on him.
Hermione recoiled. "That's not fair," she said through clenched teeth. "And in case you've forgotten, he's not the one who intentionally fed Rita Skeeter lies about me."
Draco furrowed his brow.
"Oh, you think I don't know about that? I kept that horrid woman in a jar. I know all about her little animagus stunts, and I saw you in fourth year feeding her nonsense. I'm the one who dealt with the aftermath of your and her lies put together. I'm the one who got cursed hate mail and angry glares and just rotten, rotten treatment! At fifteen! So don't you tell me what I can and can't handle!"
Draco was quiet for a moment. "That was different."
"How?"
"That was a long time ago."
"Well, not a lot has changed!"
Draco took a staggering step back. "How can you think that?"
"I—What?"
He gave no answer. He turned on his heel and walked away.
Hermione frantically replayed their conversation in her head. Then she gasped.
"With her! Draco! Not a lot has changed with her!"
But he was already gone.
Hermione stomped her way into the Great Hall. As soon as she entered, the entire hall fell silent, except for a couple of clatters as people dropped their spoons and forks. She spared no time for any of them. She just kept on stomping her way over to her usual spot at the Gryffindor table, snatching up a copy of the Prophet along the way.
Of the things she had imagined Skeeter writing, this was worse.
Granger Gone Wild
Dear readers of Me, Myself and I, you will be as astounded and heartbroken as I was to know the depths to which our former "Golden Girl" has plummeted. This reporter took a trip to Hogsmeade village after sending a personal and heartfelt message to the one and only Miss Hermione Granger, asking for her side to this dark and twisted "love" story. Though I waited all day for her to show, my efforts were in vain. Granger refused to accept my invitation.
Instead, one Arbie McMillan, Head Boy alongside our infamous couple (the young Malfoy and Granger herself) sought me out in the name of truth. McMillan shares a common room with the couple as Head Students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where it is well known that Miss Granger spends all of her nights in one particular Slytherin's bed. No doubt Headmistress McGonagall will want to investigate this blatant debasement of the school's educational purpose, where Miss Granger has become the resident expert on what the Muggles call "Sex Ed."
I wish it stopped there. Before Miss Granger was seducing her way into Draco Malfoy's bed, she was doing the same on what she deemed an easier target, Mr. McMillan himself. After worming her way into his bed, she broke his heart and replaced him with a conveniently richer model. "Everyone thinks it's Malfoy they should be afraid of," McMillan confided in me with a trembling lip, "but it's Hermione people need to be careful of." This causes us to wonder what really happened all those long and lonely nights with Harry Potter and Robert Weasley while they were hiding out from Voldemort. Is the real reason why they were MIA for so long because she was holding them in thrall with sexual favors? Or, was she using her skills in potion-making to brew some illegal substances to influence their will? The Ministry will no doubt want to have the budding Aurors tested for lingering effects of Amortentia, or worse. (For more on the effects of long-term exposure to the Imperius Curse, see page 4.)
To make matters worse, my sources abroad tell me that none other than international quidditch star Viktor Krum is still under Granger's influence. Perhaps she's the reason that Bulgaria's winning streak has been suffering since they were last seen together at a wedding in Ottery St. Catchpole.
There you have it. Not only has our Golden Girl fallen from grace, but she appears to be using her body to have her way… with unsuspecting men.
Hermione crushed the newspaper in her fist and dashed it to the floor.
"Incendio!"
She looked around the hall at all the wary eyes focused her way. One pair of dark brown eyes kept trained on her with eyebrows raised impossibly high.
"Hermione," Parvati asked tentatively, "are you al—"
"Of course it's not true! How can you believe a word of this trash!? Any of you!"
Parvati jumped at her outburst, but Hermione had too much else to worry about just then. She stomped out of the hall just as furious as she stomped in. Her path paved itself towards the library on autopilot until a curt voice stopped her.
"Miss Granger!"
Hermione turned and met the irate eyes of the Headmistress.
"Yes, Professor?" she asked through clenched teeth.
"I am well aware that you are again the subject of tabloid gossip, but this does not excuse your behavior. You will conduct yourself in a manner appropriate of your station as Head Girl. Return to your dormitory at once. You are excused from classes for the day."
"But, Professor, I'd rather attend them. I have too much work to do to get behind."
"Then you should have considered that before making a scene in the Great Hall. Return to your dormitory until your patrol tonight."
Hermione opened her mouth to make a perfectly rational argument against this treatment. So I can get slandered and suspended in one day? That will make people think the article is true!
"That is final," McGonagall interrupted her thoughts.
Stomping around the castle seemed to be a new theme in Hermione's life.
A day of studying turned out to be just what the healer ordered for Hermione. After some initial ranting (to herself) and destruction of dishes (which she also repaired), Hermione plopped down in front of the fire and let her mind go blank. She focused on breathing and on letting the licking flames mesmerize her.
When she was clearheaded again, she read through the reading materials they had been assigned for all of today's classes—again. She took thorough notes with her color-coded inks, reviewed the questions she wanted to ask on the material, and did some research for her various projects.
Finally, she allowed herself to reflect on the previous day's meeting with the Healer. They now had to decide how long to let things progress naturally until they intervened. Waiting too long may cause the brain to repair itself incorrectly. Trying too soon could mean failed recovery. How am I supposed to know the right time to act? Despite the hard topic, she looked forward to sharing it this time with Draco and getting his help… if he would calm down and stop overreacting. She would have to patch things up with him quickly.
That evening, Hermione was permitted to eat with the other Gryffindors, but she had so many people stealing covert glances at her that it felt like half the student body had their eyes glued to her at any given time. She whispered her goodbyes to Ginny and Neville, who both waved her off with sympathetic smiles.
Instead, she finished what she could of her meal in their Head common room kitchenette. Not too long after, Malfoy returned and came immediately up to her on the couch. She sighed in relief.
"Draco, you have to know I—"
He dropped a pile of scrolls into her lap.
"Do me a favor and take your own notes in future." His tone was scathing.
Her jaw fell open. "You know very well I—"
"One of those has a list of all assignments, which you're welcome to verify if you don't trust me."
"That's not at all what—"
"I'm not here for a chat. Check with Patil if—"
"STOP INTERRUPTING ME!"
Malfoy's eyes widened as his mouth clamped shut.
"You know full well I was talking about Skeeter this morning, not you! I don't deserve this! I've had my name dragged through the mud, people judging me, McGonagall basically suspending me today, and now you giving me shit. You, of all people, should be supporting me and understanding if I'm upset and not quite perfect today!"
Hermione watched as Draco gaped at her like a fish. Just as he seemed to resolve what he wanted to say, she cut him off.
"Just go to your stupid room. I have a lot of work to do."
Malfoy's face turned hard. "As you wish," he said flatly, then he swept up his staircase.
Hermione scowled. Talking through her parents' situation would clearly have to wait. Instead, she collected her things and trudged off to the Gryffindor common room. With any luck, Ginny would shout at everyone, clear the room, and give Hermione the support she needed.
Minutes later, she clambered through the portrait hole. Ginny spotted her the second she walked in.
"All right you lot," Ginny shouted as they locked eyes. "Everyone tell Hermione that you know Rita Skeeter is a lying whore, then get the hell outa here!"
It was amazing the influence her fiery friend had, and not for the first time, Hermione wondered if it was because of her looks, her personality, her standing as Quidditch Captain, or all three. Myriad wide-eyed Gryffindors mumbled words of support to her before disappearing up staircases and out the portrait hole.
When they were alone, Ginny sighed. "Malfoy's being a right arse?"
Hermione frowned. "Yes."
"You're fed up and don't want to deal with it tonight?"
"Yes."
"Okay, get over here and quiz me on this Transfiguration theory."
Ginny was truly her best friend. Harry had no idea how lucky he was.
Hermione crawled into bed late that night after her study session followed by patrols and then her usual nighttime routine. Drifting to sleep was difficult, but she managed. Sometime in the wee hours of the morning, judging by the dying embers of her fire, she was jostled awake. It was just Draco. He had twitched in his sleep with his arms wrapped around her.
Draco?
Hermione opened her eyes properly and felt the unmistakable firmness of his body curved around hers. His arm was slung over her waist and clutching her to him. His breathing was even, and though she could not turn to see his face, she knew his brows would be knit with tension based on the way he gripped her close. She snuggled farther back against him. With some effort, she loosened his arm, then lifted his hand to her lips. She could feel his body relax as she kissed his fingers one at a time, then she wrapped herself around his arm like it was a teddy bear.
A soft, pleasant hum rumbled from deep in his chest to her ear.
Hermione smiled, then went back to sleep.
