A/N: Finally, I have got my act together and posted the update - quite a substantial one too. There was a little pre-thought required, as I had reached a point where I could take this in a few directions, as I had not yet decided. I hope I haven't taken an angsty approach, I am trying to maitain the tone of humour. Would love to hear your take on it. Enjoy!
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Hermione stared down at Malfoy's signature on the parchment. There was no turning back on such a grave momentary lapse of judgment. A contract between two individuals who harboured a long standing animosity for each other carried many risks, and it was written on paper. She risked losing her head position, and her dignity along with it.
Hermione grabbed the parchment, glaring at it before shoving it in one of the desk draws, out of sight. It was safest in here, she reasoned, although it tainted the notion of escapism that drew her to her private hideaway in the first place. How could such a clear cut understanding of mutual resentment have become so skewed?
She leant back in the velvet chair, staring absently at figures in the tapestry on the opposite wall. The two figures in the foreground to the right seemed different. She forcefully blinked a few times trying to re-adjust her focus in case her eyes deceived her.
"Great, now I'm seeing things," she mumbled, standing up from the seat. She walked over to inspect it more closely. To date, Hermione had taken the tapestry for granted, accepting its presence and paying it little attention. But, as she stood before its illuminated imagery, scrutinizing the figures, something was definitely different. The threading of the two wizards in the foreground appeared sharper, the colour more vibrant. The one on her left was facing the man on the right, his expression solemn, austere. The other wizard on the right was facing her, his eyes downcast, his focus seemingly on her. She stepped to the left trying to escape it. His eyes followed her. Frowning, Hermione let her gaze fall over his body, down the curve of his arms which hung loosely by his sides. Her eyes stopped. She stepped even closer, the tip of her nose mere inches from the surface, so that she could see the individual threads overlapping each other.
For, in his hand furthest away from the other wizard, was a piece of parchment. She could just make out the script.
Reprisal subsists in the line of the Rose
She stared up at the figure; his expression shrewd. She was beyond confused. She looked back at the wizard on the left, his robes possessed the quality of fine fabric that came with great expense, and his features assumed an uncanny resemblance to…she frowned in realisation.
It was Draco Malfoy, personified.
"I don't believe it," she muttered in disbelief. The bloody Slytherin had stepped foot in her domain once and she had a permanent reminder of him right in front of her. She reached out to poke him in spite. The figures remained unmoved.
Hermione turned on her heel and went back to her armchair, slumping into it in defeat.
"Can't anything be clear?" she questioned aloud, glancing at the shrinking flames in the fireplace. All these cryptic clues and no concrete answers. To top it off, she had one Draco Malfoy permanently affixed into the deco of her hideaway, not to mention, her conscience.
There was no doubt it her mind that the Malfoy's presence in her Gryffindor hub had disrupted the order of things. It had probably sensed the magic of their contract. That unforgiving agreement that she was now bound to until…well…there was no specific end. It was all based on their ability to resolve their current predicament.
Sighing in defeat, Hermione stood up and walked out of the tainted safe haven. The fourth floor hallway was pitch black, and despite her earlier unease, she had reached the point in the day where nothing more would surprise her should it hit her in the face. Casting a lumos spell, she made her way back to her head digs with a determined pace.
The knight at the entrance of the portrait hole was nowhere to be seen. How on earth was she supposed to get in? "Hello?" she called out, hoping to bring back the knight, whilst knocking at the same time on the hard canvas in a vain attempt to attract the attention of the Head boy. She didn't even know if he was in there. Feeling downtrodden, she slumped herself against the wall, and decided she would wait a while.
Minutes passed, and Hermione could feel the chill emanating from the stone walls. She wrapped her robes around her tightly, bringing her knees up to her chest to trap any warmth. It almost felt like everything was running against her, and of all the times she needed to actually be in her head digs, the knight had run off on her. How could she have possibly accounted for this contingency?
Decidedly, Hermione stood up and made her way to Gryffindor tower. A few people were sitting around, quietly chatting in the common room but none of the quidditch players were about. The space was already decorated for the game tomorrow, drawing out a buzz of anticipation, which only served to heighten her anxiety. She had to make sure she saw Malfoy before the game tomorrow. The only thing left for her to do, was to get some sleep. She made her way to her old dorm room, gently knocking.
"Come, in," she heard some yell, and opened the door. Lavender, Pavarti were sitting on the floor flicking through magazines, with a pool of confectionary in the middle.
"Hermione!" Lavender exclaimed. They were both surprised to see her.
"Sorry to interrupt," Hermione started, feeling somewhat guilty since she had hardly spent any time with them lately, and was now seeking out their help. "Do you guys mind if I sleep in my old bed tonight?" She could hear her tone in her voice, it sounded almost dejected, without meaning to be at all. It didn't help seeing the girls just spending time chatting, eating chocolate, and having a laugh, while she was busy fighting off Slytherin prats, and feeling suffocated by one unrelenting potion and one stupid contract. Both girls looked at each other before Lavender spoke.
"Of course, Hermione, is everything ok?"
She blamed what happened next on the sincerity in Lavender's voice. That did it, Hermione burst into tears. A perfect girls night in. She felt so pathetic, and really didn't want to be pitied. Pavarti and Lavender both stood up, coming over to comfort her and walking her to her old bed. It only made the tears fall harder.
"Hermione, just let it out, whatever it is, you'll feel better after a decent cry," Pavarti soothed as she rubbed her back.
Hermione felt so pathetic, her emotions had gone haywire. Gone was the controlled, rational strategist. She was acting like such a…well…girl, and while it was highly abnormal, Pavarti was right, there was something rather cathartic about letting it all out.
Finally, Hermione, calmed down, managing to overcome those exhausting sobs and control her breathing. "Sorry you had to see me like this, I don't know what came over me," she tried to reason, ashamed. Of course, Lavender and Pavarti would have none of it.
"Hermione, stop being so strong willed all the time, it's okay to just cry for no real reason, or because everything is falling apart. Lavender is a right sook, and I am always complaining or whinging, the whole school knows my problems! You on the other hand, always have it so together," Pavarti re-assured. Hermione shrugged. If only they knew how she really felt. The old Hermione might have had it all together, but she realised that she had been internalising all her problems for quite a while, to the point where not even Harry or Ron had a clue about anything.
"Do you ever wish you could just take something back, or that things would just resolve themselves on their own?" Hermione asked reflectively.
"You have no idea!" Lavender exclaimed as if it was common knowledge. Hermione stifled a laugh. "It's Pavarti's most used phrase, I wish I'd never… blah blah. We all do stupid things now and then, some never seem to go away, and others stuff, well, you'll laugh about it in hindsight, eventually."
"For example, Dean," Pavarti stated pointedly. This time Hermione did laugh. "Hermione, the best way to get over something, is to get through it, and with the help of friends, not alone." Pavarti stated.
"So, is it guy troubles?" Lavender queried carefully. Hermione turned to her, wondering how best to phrase it. She needed to get some of it out of her system.
"Slytherin troubles," she sighed.
Lavender raised her brow with interest. "When you say Slytherin, do you mean Malfoy and Head duties, or multiple Slytherins, or are you just upset because such a house like Slytherin exists with hot guys that we can't touch?" Pavarti laughed at the latter reference.
"Who says anything about not touching? Just ask Romilda about Theo Nott." Both Lavender and Hermione turned to Pavarti, stunned.
"What?" Lavender was in a state of disbelief. "Romilda and Nott?"
"Yep," Pavarti nodded smugly for being privy to such information.
"That has just opened up a whole can of worms. How did you find out?" Lavender questioned.
"I walked in on them in a study carrel, I thought it was free. Now, that is something I wish I could take back!" Pavarti joked. "It's been eaten away at me keeping it a secret for so long."
"Not such a secret anymore," Hermione pointed. They all laughed. It was somewhat relieving to hear that Hermione wasn't the only one fraternising with the enemy, so to speak.
"So, Hermione, is it any Slytherin in particular?" Pavarti asked. Hermione could see the raw eagerness in her face. It was rather amusing that she now found herself the topic of conversation with the gossip queens.
"Pavarti, promise me you will keep this to yourself. This stays between us." Hermione pressed.
"That was only because not even Lavender knew, and I did last a good few months!" Pavarti defended animatedly.
Hermione smiled. "Yeah, ok, but is kind of complicated," she offered hesitantly.
"Does this have anything to do with Malfoy and Blaise at dinner?" Lavender suddenly asked Hermione. She was smarter than one expected and Hermione paled at the mention. She didn't know where to start or what to divulge, merely nodding. She could see Lavender and Pavarti look at each other, intrigued at what she could possibly be keeping secret.
Hermione sighed. "Well, as I said, it's kind of complicated. Blaise is my potions partner, and he…well…he recently…well he likes me." She could see their jaws drop. It felt weird admitting it. "And, uhm, Malfoy kind of found out, which is why he's angry at Blaise. You know, Slytherin protocol and all," Hermione knew it sounded lame, but she could not really say much more without going into the whole drama about Malfoy. She wasn't ready to announce that aspect of her life to anyone.
"Blaise likes you?" Lavender repeated excitedly. Hermione nodded, it felt strange hearing it from someone else. "How, when? Tell me everything!"
Hermione shrugged, thinking of how best to explain it. "We've been getting on well lately, and I guess it just happened. I didn't believe it at first but then he just came out and said it to me."
"Has anything happened between you? How did Malfoy find out?" Pavarti questioned.
"Well, you know how you walked in on Nott and Romilda? Same kind of scenario."
"You and Blaise have slept together?" Pavarti interrogated, wide eyed, jaw hanging.
"NO! No, no, we've just kissed," Hermione could feel her cheeks burn. Nott and Romilda had slept together? She was finding out all sorts of things.
"Hermione, Blaise is hot! Those eyes just make you melt, and he's so mysterious and dark." Lavender squealed. Hermione was not used to this kind of enthusiasm. She smiled meekly.
"Well, do you like him back?" Pavarti asked. Hermione furrowed her brow at the question. So many things impeded on any possible development between her and Blaise, she had not really given it much thought. And, then there was the issue of Malfoy, who had the ability to make her forget about everything logical. But, that was not genuine either. Or, was it? She had so many mounting issues, and Malfoy's admission earlier was just another puzzling piece to the whole shambles.
"Yeah, I do," she admitted, realising that all things aside, she did in fact find herself attracted to him, and genuinely like him as a person.
"Well, what's the problem then? Screw Malfoy, just because he's the Head boy doesn't mean he holds reign. I'm sure Blaise can put him in place anyway, he looked mighty angry at dinner." Lavender reflected.
Hermione knew she was right on some level, but it was oh so much more convoluted. She signed aloud. "It's hard because I share a common room with him, and we work together. I don't want to make it harder than it already is. Malfoy is the bane of my existence, as you know."
"He really hates you, doesn't he? I mean, to get that angry about it…not mention the look he gave you when you intervened."
"That's just the half of it," she admitted truthfully. Their relationship had surpassed the simple black and white.
"I say, it's none of his damn business. The way he's acting, if its just because of that, makes him look jealous." Hermione inhaled, shell shocked at the conclusion Pavarti had reached.
"I doubt it, Pavarti, it's just Slytherin bias," she redirected.
"Too bad he's such a prat," Lavender spoke up, "the combination of his bad boy image and his perfect looks makes it so hard to hate him all the time," her eyes had a dreamy look about them.
Pavarti reached over and shoved the dazed Gryffindor in reprimand. "Lavender, how can you say that after all he's putting Hermione through?"
"Sorry, Hermione, but a girl is allowed to look," she shrugged apologetically. Hermione laughed nervously.
"Thanks, you've both really made me feel better," she admitted. Despite her limited divulgement of the finer details, a definite weight had been lifted.
"Anytime Hermione, just know we are totally on your side." Hermione nodded. "And we can always egg things along with Blaise. We are quite the strategists when it comes to engaging the opposite sex." Lavender raised her eyebrows suggestively. Hermione smiled. It was all so ridiculous, but she knew they meant well.
"I'll let you borrow some PJ's, I can't believe you're still wearing your uniform," Pavarti shook her head as she stood up and walked to her side of the room.
"I'm so excited about the match tomorrow!" Lavender jumped off the bed and wandered to hers.
"It's definitely going to be eventful," Hermione replied pensively.
She changed and washed her face, before settling into the comforts of her old bed. It was difficult to fall asleep though, thinking of what was to come tomorrow. Her badge was at stake, which meant her livelihood was practically on the line. The steady breathing of her dorm mates finally calmed her as she drifted into sleep.
Hermione awoke to an empty sunlit dorm room. The others had left, the window curtains had been drawn back, the evidence of the midmorning apparent. Hermione rubbed her eyes blindly, before sitting up. She hand no sense of time and her eyes wandered around the room in search of some clock instrument. Lavender's bedside clock read, '10:00'.
Hermione's senses were instantly heightened.
The first thought that came to her mind was that she needed to get to her dorm room. How could she have slept in so much? The game started in an hour. Tossing the bed covers off, Hermione grabbed her school robe and put it on over the pyjamas she had borrowed from Pavarti. Her hair was dishevelled; she could feel the nest on her head as she hastily tied it back, away from her face. She picked up her clothes off the floor, and rushed out of the dorm room, down the steps to the buzzing common room.
Everyone was in their house colours, some sporting self made paraphernalia. She spotted Ron and Harry, who had attracted a crowd of well wishers. She pushed through, ignoring the strange looks her half dressed state and bed hair was attracting.
"Harry, Ron!"
"Hermione?" Ron was confused as to her state of dress. She quickly had to explain herself to avoid any presumptions being made.
"Where've you been?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I slept in my old dorm room last night," she corrected hotly, not enjoying the looks they were giving her. "I'm just going to get changed. I'll see you down there!"
"Wait, aren't you going to walk down with us?" Ron interjected. In her distracted haste, she failed to remember one crucial thing about quidditch matches against Slytherin. It was tradition for the three of them to walk down to the pitch together, and for Hermione to forget such a thing, was a clear sign of her frazzled state. She could practically see Harry's thought process as he eyed her in the same way she would whenever they'd asked for last minute homework help.
"Of course, I need to change first. I just meant I would meet you in the Great Hall," she quickly covered up.
"You've got half an hour, I need to get the team together beforehand," Harry directed.
Hermione nodded, "I won't be long, I promise." She practically ran back to the head quarters.
"Where were you last night?" she seethed at the knight. He lifted his visor and stuck his nose in the air. "How dare you speak to Sir Flatly in that way? I had a previous engagement that I could not miss. The tradition of the Templar is far more important than standing here to cater to your late night entries. The Head boy is much worse mind you." Hermione rolled her eyes at the ostentatious manner of the head digs' guardian.
"Forgive me, Sir Flatly, my mistake, but some prior warning of your engagement would be most helpful in future," she responded with an equally haughty tone. The knight harrumphed before dropping his visor and letting her through without the password. It was a small sacrifice on his part, but she took it as acquiescence.
Once inside, Hermione ran to Malfoy's bedroom door and knocked loudly.
No response.
The dilemma of seeking him out and walking to the pitch with her friends left her in a state of flux. She rushed to her room, and into the shower. practically still half dressed. Her hair was so knotted, she was thankful for her muggle conditioner. She dried her hair, changed, grabbed her school scarf, and bolted down to the Great Hall. Breathless, she made her way to the Gryffindor table, all the while scanning the Slytherin side of the hall.
Malfoy was nowhere to be seen.
"Hey guys," she sat down next to Harry and poured herself a glass of pumpkin juice. She was so thirsty, she drank it in one breath.
"That was quick," Ron muttered, he was looking slightly nervous.
"You ok, Ron?" she replied, setting her glass down.
"Yeah, just pre-game jitters, happens all the time," he dismissed.
"And, every time, you come out fine, I don't know what you get so worked up about," Harry reassured. Hermione nudged him, he was so blunt sometimes.
"Harry, everyone handles pressure differently. This is why Ron comes out fine, he needs that bit of nervousness."
"Doesn't look like a bit to me," Harry muttered under his breath. Typical of the Captain to be so confident, but then again, he had every reason to be.
"Shall we go?" Hermione asked.
"Why are you so eager?" Ron questioned.
"The quicker you get out there, the sooner you'll calm down, Ron."
"Hermione's right. Once you see familiar territory, you'll feel much more relaxed. Plus, I need to organise my protective gear." Harry agreed. He stood up, Hermione and Ron followed. She gave Ron a reassuring pat on the shoulder.
"Ron, you're a great keeper, just go out there and have fun." He smiled meekly.
The trio made there way down to the quidditch pitch. Hermione did her best to remain cheerful and carefree around her friends, she felt so guilty for her selfish hidden agendas, but all she could focus on was finding Malfoy before the match started. They reached the Gryffindor change rooms, chatting idly for a few minutes.
"Good luck, Harry, Ron, you guys will be great." She gave them both a hug, holding on to Harry a little longer, perhaps trying to make-up for her lack of honesty with him of late.
"Thanks, Hermione," Ron replied, before they disappeared inside.
Caught in a moment of indecision, Hermione turned toward the Slytherin end. Acting impulsively, a clear sign of despeartion, she decided to head over there. It didn't help that she had her Gryffindor colours on as Slytherins loitered about chatting to friends in the team.
Spotting Blaise, she decided he was her safest bet at a reason for being in the vicinity. Hermione walked over to him. He was leaning against a nearby flag post. Lavender was right; he looked very handsome in his quidditch gear, broom in hand. He saw her and stood upright.
"Hi," she waved slightly as she approached. She hated her sheepish tone; it almost suggested she was harbouring guilt. Really, she was.
"Hi, pretty brave of you to head over here before the big game," he spoke seriously. Hermione suddenly felt like she had made a huge mistake, until he cracked a smile. She exhaled and smiled back. "So, ready to lose?" he teased.
Hermione snorted lightly, "I think not!" He laughed. "I thought you were serious about quidditch?" she questioned, confused at his light hearted state of being.
"Lately, I am of the mind set that everything is fleeting. And, frankly, who wins this game is at the bottom of the list. That is not to say I won't go out there and beat the hell out of your team, tradition binds us after all." He smirked devilishly.
Hermione nodded, shifting slightly. He regarded her momentarily, his expression shifting from his overtly facetious temperament.
"I didn't come to the fourth floor after dinner; I thought it best to lie low for the evening. Don't exactly want Draco throwing the bludger at me." Hermione laughed at the mental image that flashed in her mind.
"That was probably best. It was quite the scene, after all," she replied. "Have you spoken since?" she asked hesitently.
"If a menacing stare accounts as communication, then yes. He's in the change rooms, taking his sweet time. I hope he realises the game is starting in ten minutes. He hasn't even debriefed the team, like he usual does."
Her eyes widened at the time reference. She had ten minutes to satisfy her end of the bargain. She looked toward the change room entrace, and could see the other players all coming out. Malfoy was still nowhere to be seen.
"Well, I better leave you to it, looks like Professor Snape is rounding you all up," she surmised.
Blaise nodded. "See you, Hermione," he turned to walk away.
"Blaise!" she called out. He looked back at her.
"Uhm, watch out for those bludgers," she said. He smiled at her, sending a salute in jest.
Eight minutes.
Hermione discreetly made her way to the Slytherin entrance. Professor Snape was talking to the team, which was crowded around him nearby. It was now, or never.
She carefully slipped inside.
Malfoy was seated, putting on his boots, his gloves next to him. Hermione inhaled at the sight before her, watching him tie his bootlaces. She had never stood this close to him in his quidditch gear.
"Granger," he stated, not looking up as he put on his remaining boot and started tying the laces. "I was beginning to think that you were simply going to hand in your badge," he said. She almost didn't hear him as she stared at his form. "Good thing I didn't assign the back-up seeker to play the game," he continued wearily, putting his foot down, and running his fingers through his hair as he looked up at her. His eyes pierced her, leaving her momentarily disorientated.
"It was a little hard to get into the head rooms when the knight decided to go frolicking about last night," she snapped. She had a momentary thought that it was his doing but his lack of composure said otherwise.
"So, minutes before I have to go out and actually play, you decide to hold up your end of the bargain? Great sabotage ploy, Granger, I didn't think you had it in you." He glared at her, yet his demeanour was somewhat deflated.
"We never agreed on anything more than that I had to see you before the match," she reasoned.
"Of course," he drawled, narrowing his eyes, "everything is subject to interpretation, Granger." He stood up, his full height overwhelming her senses.
"This is purely transactional, Malfoy," she replied hotly before leaning up and kissing his lips hard as she pushed him back down onto the bench for easier access. She was sick of Malfoy calling the shots, and could tell he was surprised by her sudden actions as he opened his mouth in surprise.
Hermione let her tongue slip into his warm cavern as she leant over him. Lost in the contact, she found herself straddling him, her hands on his leather padded shoulders holding her in place. She didn't care that he didn't respond, she let her tongue explore him, her lips locked over his, sucking gently. For her, it was the thrill of it, the sudden anti-Hermione antics bringing out a new found means of expression. She was angry at Malfoy, yet, she also felt something else for him, a much more profound sensation that was causing her to unleash her brazen desires.
Finally, she felt his tongue circle around hers, as he brought his hands up to cup her face, tilting it slightly for his benefit. The kiss became fierce, an erupting passion drawing them closer, his tongue slipping into her mouth and consuming her senses. She moaned against him, and could hear his short breaths as she involuntarily rolled her hips into his, causing him to inhale sharply. It was frenzied and quickly escalating, she could feel the unexplained magnetism tipping her over the edge to the point where she no longer cared how far they would go, or about their time constraints. All sense of morals that she harboured were extinguishing in mere seconds. She brought her hand down to his growing bulge, rubbing over it through his quidditch pants. He groaned into ther mouth, his teeth biting down on her lower lip. In retaliation, she stroked him with more pressure this time as they mouths battled.
He broke away suddenly, panting, his eyes dark, and enraged. "Get off me, Granger," he snarled, his throaty voice strained as he practically pushed her off of him onto the bench. She immediately stood up.
"Isn't this what you wanted, Malfoy?" she was practically yelling, ignorant of who might hear. He grabbed her arm, and stood up.
"Fucking perfect, Granger," he thundered, letting go of her just as abruptly.
"Think of it this way Malfoy, you haven't lost any of that aggression, you'll be just fine!" she retorted. He grabbed his robe that was hanging nearby, fastening it around his neck while glaring at her the whole time. Finally, he reached for his gloves, and stormed out, taking his broom off the rack on the way.
A/N: This is probably one of my favourite chapter endings. Hermione is not the only one acting like a girl...lol! Blaise is still too hot for me to get rid of. hehehe