A/N: A huge thankyou to all who left a review. I tried to get this chapter out sooner but it has been a shitty week, so my apologies, and special mention to BlotOfInkOnFinger who so uniquely requested quicker updates. Loved it. hehe
Happy Halloween! Trick or Treat...a treat me thinks...Happy reading :p
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There was nothing more to be done to avoid facing a certain individual whose presence blessed the halls of Hogwarts in the eyes of the silver and green cohort, but brought complete distress for one Hermione Granger on a Monday morning. Reluctantly, Hermione proceeded to the Great Hall to commence what would be the most notorious week of her life yet.
She had to face her demons.
The usual buzz and clutter permeated through the great doors as she snuck her way into the Monday morning raucous. At all costs, she would not dare to glance at the Slytherin table to see if he was there. It was too dangerous, for her, for him, especially since Harry had promptly rested himself next to her, sitting so closely she could feel the heat of his anger radiating off him. It was almost as if he were generating his own electricity, as her hair appeared to stand on end, reaching toward his school jumper.
She grimaced, feeling overcome by his sudden protective antics; she did not need a body guard, especially not one that hadn't said two words to her since her admissions.
She huffed, blowing the loose strands of hair from her face as she reached for a piece of raisin toast. As chance would have it, Harry had decided to reach for the same piece. She let him take it in fear of a short circuit blowout.
"You can at least say good morning, you know," she said petulantly, for it was the last piece of raisin toast.
The responding grunt would have to suffice. At least he had acknowledged her.
Eyes down, and focused on her plate of food, which she picked at hopelessly, Hermione's skin tingled as the doors to the Great Hall opened. Her body went rigid as she tried to ignore it.
It was…worrying.
Harry must have felt her stiffen like a washboard as he turned his attention to her, the half eaten toast in his hand, his incessant chewing suddenly coming to a stop.
The feeling would not abate itself. In fact it grew stronger by the second as she restlessly poked at her eggs.
Abruptly, Harry stood up. She involuntarily turned in reaction.
A chill of fear coursed through her as she faltered, instantly regretting her decision.
The Head boy was standing at the entrance with his attention completely focused on her. Is this what Malfoy had been enduring all along? Surely, a further reaction had not been triggered from their...well...compulsions?
Harry was almost frothing at the mouth, his fists clenched. She pulled at his sleeve pleadingly. He only tugged it away as he began to walk toward the trigger of her emotions.
The rising panic was unbearable. "Harry!" she admonished under her breath, trying not to draw attention to what was about to unfold. The stubborn Gryffindor ignored any plea.
She looked back at Malfoy. His attention had switched to Harry. He looked completely bemused.
This was not looking good.
Decidedly, she stood up and followed, ignoring the incessant wrenching desire that increased with proximity. She grabbed Harry's arm again, pulling it back, "Harry, stop!" she demanded with crisp authority; one befitting of a Head Girl.
It worked. He stopped.
Heads in the vicinity turned. Hermione raised her eyebrows to signal the attention they were now receiving.
"You shouldn't have followed me, Hermione, now everyone knows what I'm about to do somehow involves you," he replied disparagingly.
Confusion was written all over Hermione's face.
"Malfoy!" he barked across the hall to the Slytherin. The Head boy, in all his glory was walking towards them.
She rushed to catch up. "Harry you do this and I am not going to forgive you," she bit out through clenched teeth.
Silence from the Gryffindor.
Hermione was not going to stand for this. She rushed past Harry, toward Malfoy, whose eyes instantly caught hers, a look of horror apparent on his face which she presumed was his response to the reaction that had unleased itself on her.
She was falling.
But, she didn't stop, increasing her pace.
She reached Malfoy, grabbing his robes at the arm and pulling him with her back toward the doors. If Harry was going to follow them out, then so be it. At least they would not have an audience.
"Granger, what do you think you're doing?" he seemed thoroughly agitated. "I have an image to uphold." The funny thing was that he did nothing to release himself from her hold.
"Shut it, Malfoy," she snapped. The ungrateful prat, didn't he realise he was about to walk straight into an altercation with Harry?
They passed through the great doors; their echoing thud as they shut signalled their isolation.
She let go of him like he was on fire. They glared at each other, but she didn't miss the strained attempt at malevolence as his stare waned.
He blinked.
"Harry knows," she admitted, probably to distract herself from him.
"Potter knows what, exactly?" he retorted, his sharp fierceness instantly returning.
"That you're a fucking piece of Slytherin shit, Malfoy."
Malfoy turned as Hermione identified the owner of the caustic insult.
The infamous smirk crossed his face. "Morning Potter, perfect conditions for frivolities, don't you think?" Hermione gaped at Malfoy's response.
Harry was seething.
The next thing she registered was that Malfoy had been forced up against the wall, Harry's wand jabbed into his throat.
"Harry!" Hermione shouted with surprise.
"You have no idea, Malfoy. You. Crossed. The. Line." Harry dug his wand in further with every word.
"Malfoy's eyes narrowed as he grimaced. Hermione stood frozen; registering Malfoy's building emotional outburst, his rage apparent.
He had triggered the potion.
She shuddered, as she felt something awaken within her, filtering through.
With an unimaginable strength Malfoy retaliated against Harry, pushing off the wall with such power that Harry stumbled, losing his balance and falling to the floor, his wand sliding across the cold stone.
They were both panting, Harry from his shock as he stood up, coursing his fingers through his hair to compose himself, and Malfoy from uncontrollable rage.
"Potter, you're too obvious. Mind your fucking business," he growled.
This is my fucking business!" he barked back. "Don't think you can get away with this. I can see what you've done to Hermione, not just the last few months, but for the last seven years. You can't even bloody respect her as Head Girl."
Hermione cringed at his words.
Malfoy straightened up. "Granger got herself into this mess; she can get out of it." His voice was terse, cold and bitter. He turned away, his eyes locking with hers for the briefest moment, a powerful eruption of anger and regret consumed her as she sensed his every emotion.
Her breath caught.
He stormed off without further comment.
Harry walked over and collected his wand. He looked back at Hermione, who finally registered that he was staring at her, a puzzled pensive expression written on his face.
"What's wrong with you Hermione? Am I stupid for wanting to defend my best friend? Don't I have a right to be angry?" his tone was as calm as the wind before a deadly storm. It did not bode well with her at all. She had never known Harry be so incensed with anyone, to the point of utter disappointment and defeat.
"Harry, you don't understand. You never will. It's too hard to explain now. You've only made it worse," she snapped.
She watched his mind reeling behind his eyes. His demeanour softened.
"I'm sorry for nearly causing a scene in front of everyone. I just went away last night and couldn't stop thinking about what he'd said about you, and what you'd told me. My mind was reaching some rather unsavoury conclusions. I mean you and him! I don't care what the circumstances."
Hermione felt betrayed. He had completely disregarded anything she had told him about the effects of the potion. "Yeah, well, you probably weren't too far off the mark," she retorted angrily.
Harry looked taken aback.
Hermione shook her head. "Of course you believe that. You believe the worst of me. That is not what friends are supposed to do."
She walked off.
Ron sat with her in Transfiguration; she remained unmoved, blinking sparsely as she stared at her textbook cover.
"Hermione, have I done something? Did I say something at the Gryffindor party?" Ron asked.
"What? Oh, uhm, no Ron, of course not." She shook her head, smiling reassuringly, although somewhat distractedly.
"Well, does it have anything to do with what Seamus said this morning?"
Her eyes widened nervously, she looked away. "What would Seamus know?" she asked shortly.
"He reckons Dean upset you yesterday, made some passing comments about you and Zabini."
Hermione clutched the edge of her desk.
She would be seeing Blaise in potions today.
"What about it?" She inquired innocently. Ron regarded her silently. He was not buying her act of ignorance.
"Hermione, I am not trying to pry, or whatever, but it's kind of uncharacteristic for you and Zabini to be mentioned in the same sentence, by anyone."
"That's enough talking!" the Professor snapped, directing her attention to Ron. He slid back in his chair, but not before giving Hermione a final consolatory glance. She felt a little more relaxed that he wasn't set out to bite her head off like Harry.
With some effort, she finally absorbed herself in her class work, but that creeping feeling of what could unfold in potions would not subside.
The stale air of the dungeons led Hermione to the potions classroom. She knew she was late, but she could not bring herself to arrive early for fear of any precluding interactions with Blaise and Malfoy together before Professor Snape arrived.
The potions classroom door was shut. She was definitely, noticeably, late.
Inhaling deeply in preparation, she pressed on the door handle and walked into the classroom. All eyes were on her. If she were ever in a position of scrutiny, it was now.
A rush of adrenaline pumped through her as an irrational fear overcame her. Did she still look the same?
"Miss Granger, I am waiting to hear your excuse for your tardiness," the Professor remarked snidely.
"Yes, sorry Professor, I needed to attend to some unforeseeable Head duties." Oh, she had never lied to a teacher before, and it certainly seemed a little too easy on this occasion.
Professor Snape did not look impressed in the slightest. "Sit down, Miss Granger, I am demonstrating new potions today so I don't need you wasting any more time," he directed irately.
She began walking up the aisle toward her seat, passing Malfoy, catching his intense gaze as his eyes followed her. He was leaning back in his chair, his arms crossed, and his forearms bare from his rolled up sleeves, his hair almost completely shielding his face.
Her eyes remained on him, as if all other persons in the room were absent.
It was unnerving.
It was horridly disconcerting.
She was undeniably attached to him in some indefatigable way that had now been sealed by their unspeakable actions.
He broke the connection as she passed him. She looked up at Blaise, only to find that he had been watching the whole exchange.
She forced herself to smile at him before sitting down in her seat.
"Hi," she whispered nervously.
He turned and nodded, his eyes twinkling with mischief. It was almost as if his carefree demeanour brought a release of pent up pressure.
She smiled slightly, looking away, and caught sight of Dean who was eyeing her accusingly.
It riled her to no end, and she found herself sliding up closer to Blaise in reprisal.
Perhaps it was to overcome whatever she wanted to forget, or just to goad Dean along, or to distract Blaise from second guessing what had occurred between her and Malfoy.
Blaise eyed her with amusement.
"What's up with you today?"
"Just play along," she heard herself respond as she looked back at Dean. Blaise leaned closer, his breath on her ear.
"Happy to play along, Hermione," he whispered. She shivered in reaction as his hand brushed over hers.
Whatever her expression showed, it certainly made Dean scowl.
She turned to face Blaise, ignoring Snape's demonstration completely.
"We've just fuelled rumours, you know, but apparently no one believes the truth anyway." She whispered, shrugging. Blaise seemed thoroughly surprised.
"And, what do these rumours entail exactly," he raised an eyebrow keenly. His was being such a flirt; she was falling for his every move. It was nothing like Dean's trying attempts, or Malfoy's unstable behaviour.
It was light hearted, and playful.
It soothed her.
"Hmmm, well you'll just have to make the effort to find out," she replied cheekily. What was wrong with her?
And then it hit her.
Malfoy.
His activation of the potion in him had triggered it in her.
She was feeding off Blaise's demeanour.
"What if I guess," he whispered, his fingers running up her arm.
She loved every second of it.
And, they were in the middle of potions.
Malfoy be damned.
"I will neither deny it, nor affirm it," she offered.
"I bet I already know." His hand disappeared underneath the table and rested on her knee, circling it playfully. She almost jumped out of her skin. Could she allow this to continue without breaching the dreaded contract?
She wanted to. Oh, how the potion made her want to. There was this covet to disregard all protocol and propriety. But, her Head status was on the line.
She moved her hand under the table and placed it over his, bringing his ministrations to a stop. She didn't go as far as remove it, however.
"There is the little matter of proving it," she teased, before lifting his hand and placing it on his own knee. She left her hand on top of his, needing the warming comfort.
Perhaps that was not the right move, as she barely caught the darkening of his eyes; from a bright sapphire to a deep sea blue.
"Should I still be playing along? I mean, whose going to see out under the table antics?" he replied seriously, as she registered the look he was giving her.
The screeching noise of a seat being pushed back hurriedly broke their interaction as they both turned their attention to the source of the noise.
Malfoy was standing, gathering his things as though his life depended on it.
Hermione instantly pulled her hand away. Blaise shot her a quizzical glance.
"Mr Malfoy, what is the meaning of this interruption?" Professor Snape shot, albeit somewhat more civilly for this favourite student.
"Professor, I've...I've just remembered a prior commitment I must go to," he replied, clearly distracted by something. Malfoy had never looked so preoccupied or distressed in public.
"Can it not wait until the end of the class?" he asked irately.
"No Professor, it cannot," he said with such finality, the Professor was almost silenced into submission.
"Very well, but please return to see me after lunch."
Malfoy had already left.
The classroom was full of subdued murmurs, everyone had lost concentration, wondering what had happened to the Head Boy for him to storm out after such a disruptive display. Hermione sat in her seat quietly, fiddling with her quill.
"Is the something going on with you and Malfoy?" Blaise questioned abruptly.
Hermione merely shook her head, unable to speak. She had given it away. Yet, her body had instinctively reacted, seemingly predicting Malfoy's outburst.
She recalled their conversation that night in her hideaway. He had sensed Blaise's reaction to her, and she had definitely stirred one.
L'etat esprit should have been called L'esprit emprisone.
They were all trapped together.
A/N: Not so happy days...