A/N: Hi Loves,
Sorry it's been SO long. No excuses, and this is terribly short, but I just thought I should get something up as soon as possible. It's a bit of a filler, but I'll be sure to keep updating as often as I can!
xo Carly
By the time Hermione had burst through the Common Room's portrait, unsettling a sleeping Fat Lady, both Harry and Ron had passed out ungracefully.
Harry's head bent at an unnatural angle over the crook of the chair's arm while Ron mumbled something incoherent regarding Professor McGonagall from his position on the floor.
So much for studying.
Hermione was trembling. The unwelcome metallic tang of her blood flooded her mouth again as her split lip quivered violently. She could still feel Malfoy's iron grasp against her skin, confirmed by the gradual dark bloom of long bruises etching along her arms. Fighting off the urge to collapse from exhaustion where she stood as her friends had, Hermione retired to her chambers, bracing herself for the fitful night of sleep sure to greet her.
Draco dragged his nails against the wood grain of the desk's face. The pile of parchment rested, untouched, by his left arm, brushed aside abrubtly. A broken quill settled on the floor beneath him. The last thing he was concerned about was a bloody Potions test.
His dark silver eyes flicked upwards, glaring at Hermione's back.
What the fuck has she seen?
She shivered.
He was staring at her. She felt it. The cold seeped through her jumper between her shoulder blades.
Resisting the burning desire to spin around and hex Malfoy's eyes out of his skull, Hermione quickly scrawled out her answers.
Why the hell had she felt the need to study for this?
She jumped up and strode to the front of the room, practically flung the assessment at Snape, and burst out of the doors, breaking into a sprint towards the quidditch field. Hermione drew in the icy December air, her face flushing violently as it burned her lungs and the wind whipped at her brow.
She just needed to get away from him. That disgusting, vile prat. As her anger grew, the faster she ran. Blood rushed to her arms, and her bruises ached freshly.
Snow drifted lazily down before her, catching on her eyelashes and melting against her skin. And suddenly, the fire snuffed out of her.
What the hell was she doing? She never ran away. And she'd be damned to let that Slytherin bastard become any threat to her. Drawing out her wand in a gloved hand, she raised it skyward "Ignis leo".
A brilliant stream of scarlet sparks erupted into the sky, drawing together into a terrifyingly massive lion.
Hermione smiled as its gaping mouth roared and then disappeared in a shower of crimson and gold.
No, she was hardly intimidated by a snake.