A/N: Not really my characters or plot, sadly enough.

Chapter 3: Dazed and Confused

"Hermione!" I hear the dreaded voice call.
Keeping an ugly grimace from marring my face, I turn around.

"Abraxas," I say, forcing myself to declare his unwelcomed presence in an even tone, feeling awkward.
His cheeks are painted with red streaks from running, his eyes glowing with that overconfidance that I can't seem to swallow down. I try smiling. I seem to always force myself to try smiling these days.

"Hello beautiful. Been thinking over my offer?" he says while grinning, having halted in front of me.
I open my mouth, but before I can answer he gives me a hug, a sweaty one, although his smell isn't that objectionable. It's actually quite nice - masculine I suppose. I pat his back in a fruitless attempt to make the entire thing appear as one of those friendly guy-hugs, but the fool just pulls me closer.

"I really like you Hermione," he says and I can't help but cringe a little bit, if only on the inside. "I know that you don't feel the same way.. exactly.. but I think you could. As I've said before, we would make a good couple. No, forget that, we would make the best couple. So can you please just give me a try?"

I am suddenly overcome by a flood of self-loathing. Self-loathing because I fear that my aversion towards Abraxas is unjust and a thing of cruelty on my part. Self-loathing because I have to turn this poor man down, even though, he is not that poor, and even though, he will find an other distraction in no time. Maybe even tomorrow. Or today, on his way home from school. Maybe some girl will forget her stupid-looking mitten and he will pick it up, with a chaste look on his face and they will fall in love. Happily so. Or maybe he is going to die alone – never being satisfied by any woman or man. Grey-haired and grumpy with callus on his feet, he will take his last breath in a well-known solitude. Maybe, just maybe, we could be good together, if I were to try to like him, to force myself to love him just so he will never know of that pain which I am about to give him..

"I'm sorry Abraxas, I just don't feel that way about you. You're a good friend – a great friend.. but that's all." I think I am close to tears, but I don't know if they are those of irrationally strong compassion, or of the frustration of it all.

"It's okay," he whispers, as if I am the one in need of comfort. "But I won't give up that easily you know. I still like you."
And I still don't like you, I think, feeling my odd tears descend back to where they came from, still captivated in his embrace. Why must everything always be so easy for him? Can he not mourn the fact that I have turned him down in a just way? Why must I be the one to cry? Shouldn't that be him? Crying his heart out and then forget I ever happened. Why must he be so frustrating? Or me, why must I be so frustrated by him? And why, for the life of me, did I ever feel sorry for him? Even if it had only been for a second or so.
He's fine. He is always. Bloody. Fine.
Of course, I never utter a thought out loud. They're only dumb thoughts after all. Mercilessly spinning around in my over-analytical head.

"It's pointless Abraxas. Just forget me all right? You can even ignore me if you like.. and I won't judge you. If you were to do that, I would understand you." For once.

"I can't ignore you! It'll drive me half mad! These few days have been a bloody torture session Hermione. You, pretending you don't know me. Me, doing the same. I just.. can't.. it's hard you know."

For the first time since he captured me within his arms, I meet his gaze. He does seem kind of sad, this arrogant boy. For once, he's not smiling and his eyes hold something similar to that which is pain. I pull my lips up into a resemblance of an encouraging smile, squeezing his arms.

"I know Abraxas. But it's for the best," I whisper, and once again, I am able to experience pity on his behalf. Regardless of my own feelings (or lack therof) for the boy, I don't want him to be hurt.

"Is it because of Tom?" he then says and I am immediately pulled out from the focus on overbearing emotions, replacing it with an empty dread, creeping slowly up my back like a giant spider.

"What do you mean?" I ask, chiding him.

For a moment it looks like he is going to tell me to forget it, like I told him to forget me. But his curiosity must have overruled what other thoughts he might have had because then he says; "Has he.. Did he say something about it? About you and me I mean."

"No," I lie, keeping the answer firm. It's not like it is of importance anyway.

He bites his lip, still afraid of saying what he wants, but doing so anyway. "He's very protective of you, your brother."

"Well, he is my brother."

The answer doesn't seem to agree with him. "I suppose.. But you're not really siblings, are you though? I mean, you're both adopted."

"Yeah, so what?" I mumble with my eyebrows together. "Are adopted siblings any less the siblings than those of blood ties?"

Abraxas holds up his two hands in the air, like he means to surrender. "Of course not! I do not mean to offend, but I mean.." he chews his lower lip like he is wishing for it to come off now, "I don't know what I mean, okay? Just don't be angry with me."

"Look, I do not know what happened between you and Tom. But let me tell you, Tom is my family. Blood relations or not."

"Of course," he says, still holding his hands up, "of course, I get that."

"Good," I say, not being able to say anything else. He mumbles something under his breath and I awkwardly search around the grounds for a topic, before giving up and bidding him goodbye. The blond looks happy to see me go for once and I feel his eyes on my back the entire way back to the main entrance.
I'm not certain, but for a second I swore that I had heard him mutter; "I'm just not sure that he gets that."

Tom walks me home, like he has done everyday this week, with the exception of the one day when his penis lead him elsewhere. Bellatrix is Tom's girlfriend - according to Bellatrix - and speaks to him from the wonder between her thighs. Alas, she is the one holding Tom's penis in a tight grip (not tight enough if most rumours are to be believed though; Tom has never been known for being faithful towards anyone). The girl is overall stunning, with black hair much like Tom's, and an untamed aura about her, displayed in her dark eyes.
Tom rarely speaks of Bellatrix in my company, only acknowledging her mere existence if I am the one to have brought her up first. Often, I do it as a part of a joke, seeing as Bellatrix's feelings for my brother is anything but a joke.
She is obsessive to say the least.
When I ask Tom about it he just shrugs his shoulders, saying that there are other parts of her which he appreciates. I won't ask him what parts.

"I don't need you to lead me home Tom, I'm not a baby," I exclaim while speeding up my steps, still prickly over the conversation with Abraxas from earlier that day. Neither does Tom's presence ease me. He is walking beside me like a good lump of uselessness, not speaking or even pretending that I am there. Just walking beside me like we used to do when we were young, before attending secondary school and he just decided that he didn't like me anymore. Now, he speeds up too, to keep in line with my footsteps. This farce is becoming ludicrous. The young Tom always answered me in kind words. Taking my hand in his and pressing it reassuredly. Last week's Tom would have yelled at me for no reason after a long healthy inner battle with himself on whether or not to yell at me. This week's Tom just stays cool and quiet – simply following me without any visable traces of that bottomless rage he always seemed so eager to ventilate on me.

"Aren't you supposed to be with Bellatrix or something?" I ask, forcing a reaction out of him by posing one of the prohibited questions.
But Tom does not flinch.

"She is not my girlfriend. Even is she is adamant in her belief of so."

"Yes, well, neither am I, so why don't we just seperately walk our ways like we used to. Okay?"
For just a fraction of a second, an evident anger takes hold of his face, making his handsome features become crooked. Still, he says nothing.

"If I were you, I would just get used to the idea of always having Bellatrix in my life. Most likely, you'll end up marrying her.. seeing as she won't let you marry anyone else. Oh, I can picture it now – her dragging you in handcuffs, duct tape and leash to the alter. It will truly be the happiest day of her life."
I laugh, but Tom remains silent, scowling with eyes as dark as thunder. Once again, I pick up my steps, so he won't have a sudden impulse to grasp my arm harshly or accidentally hurt me in some other manner. At least I believe it to be accidental - I never ever felt that Tom would hurt me on purpose. I tell myself that he is not aware of his own strength.
I have never really been afraid of Tom either.. just cautious.

Suddenly, after a time of silence, the boy speaks. "You have nothing to be jealous about Hermione, family is for life after all."
I laugh, walking ahead of him.

"Tom for life. Oh the joy.." I mutter under my breath, theatrically rolling my eyes even though he can't see me.
Neither do I see him take a light hold of my hair, pulling the strands ever so carefully through his long fingers in a gesture most gentle.
Sensing it, I tell myself it is a bug.

A/N: I have seen a lot of "Dazed and Confused" titles during my various tours through the fanfiction-land. Good music do linger. And FYI: my tummy hurts from eating too much chocolate in bed. #yolo?