A/N: Lots of revelations in the last chapter, I hope it brought you some clarity! I know there is so much going on, I sometimes struggle to keep up with the pieces to the puzzle! Anyway, an indulgent update. I don't intend for it to go for another 30 chapters, I know some of you were wondering! I hope I'm keeping up the pace and keeping you intrigued at chapter 31. Thanks for all your reviews! xoxo
Madame Pomfrey had reluctantly released Hermione with strict instructions and several vials of healing potion the next morning, but, not before Hermione had to endure an hour lecture.
"Hermione, the moment you feel any slight change physically, you rush right back here. Is that clear?"
"Yes, Madam -"
"And, if you find your magical response when using your wand feels any different, you come straight back here," the school Healer demanded. Her fussing over Hermione had become overbearing.
"Of course, Madam Pomfrey," she replied in her most reassuring voice.
The Healer nodded once, her lips tightening into a thin line. "Right, off you go then."
Hermione was desperate to escape the suffocation that had left her feeling uninvitingly vulnerable.
She felt fine.
Despite her eagerness to leave the Infirmary, a building anxiety flurried in the pit of her stomach. Hermione cursed under her breath, feeling annoyed that she was feeling unnerved just by walking to the Head digs.
'It's a reasonable reaction, you weren't allowed in last time,' she tried to reassure herself. The Knight's portrait came into view and she stopped just short of it, taking a deep breath.
"I was wondering when you might be returning," the Knight spoke as he lifted his visor. "Slight hiccup last time, eh?" he reflected sheepishly, grinning apologetically.
"So, I recall," Hermione replied carefully. "You know...you could have mentioned that it wasn't me in actuality, but my state of being, that hindered you from recognising me as the Head Girl," she admonished.
"Well...yes, the Headmaster did visit me afterward, along with Professor Snape and Master Malfoy. It's all been cleared up now. Good to see you back. Although, I can't say the same for the Head boy," the Knight reflected openly as he moved to drop his visor whiel shifting his grip on his sword.
"Wait!" Hermione called out. The portrait eyed her with curiosity. "Has he already been...er...demoted?"
"Indeed! He was stripped back down to Prefect. I must say however, I will be sorry to see him go. Strong head on his shoulders. Bit of a temper though, that boy."
Only a bit? "Do you know if there will be a replacement?" Herimone queried.
"Headmaster's still debating that one, it seems. Well, must be off; I'm hosting the next round table. Lovely to see you back in good health, Miss Granger."
The portrait swung open and Hermione entered the Head Girl's digs.
The door to his room was wide open and Hermione could see that it was empty. She walked in and sat on the stripped down bed. She smiled slightly as she remembered hiding under it in a rather rash decision to search for her wand in the Slytherin's domain. She couldn't help but blush slightly as she recalled being in it, as well. Thinking back to the time that Malfoy had let her sleep in his bed was almost as surreal as having him pressed up against her in her bathroom.
She could only wonder about the extent of the connection that blue blood concoction created between a Pureblood Society member and a Muggleborn victim. One thing was for sure, it was troublesome and unpredictable, and the end result of him being removed from Head duties was...unduly ungratifying.
Hermione decided to go to class rather than idle about in her closed quarters. The longer she avoided the school body, the worse it would get. Besides, Malfoy wasn't in her Transfiguration group.
Ron was leaning against the classroom door despite others entering the classroom. He saw her approaching and called out, "Hermione!" He beamed at her, a flicker of relief crossing his features.
A few lingering students turned their head and looked at her as though she was a stranger to the hallways. She tried to ignore their curious, and somewhat judgmental, gazes as she approached Ron.
"Hi, Ron," she greeted feebly, worried at how he would respond. She didn't expect him to outright lean over and draw her into a hug!
"Are you alright? You've had us worried sick. Madam Pomfrey, the Headmaster, even Snape; none of them would tell us what happened to you, let alone allow us to visit! Harry is in a right state. The whole school is talking. What happened to Malfoy? Did he hurt you?" Ron questioned all at once.
Hermione pulled back. "Ron, slow down," she smiled reassuringly. "Yes, I'm okay. Can we talk after class?"
He nodded reluctantly. "Fine, but I'm not letting you out of my sight," he affirmed.
Hermione could not believe the rumours that had circulated in her absence from class. The school halls were thriving on the most salacious gossip that had ever graced her ears.
And, she was just getting a taste for it in Transfiguration.
Daphne Greengrass, and her biting tongue, was the first to let loose.
"You really have the innocent image down pat, Granger," she bit out during the practical.
Hermione swung her head around. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me, Granger." It was enough to leave Hermione on tenterhooks but she turned back to her work, ignoring the comment.
"Slag."
That would be enough to provoke anyone. Hermione whirled around, staring straight at Daphne who had a sickly saccharine smile plastered on her face.
"If you've got something to say, Daphne, just say it," she demanded.
"I'm sorry, you weren't supposed to hear that," Daphne replied sweetly, her hair cascading over one shoulder has she tilted her head to one side. Daphne's partner, a small framed pale girl, sniggered.
"What is your problem?"
"Take a guess." Hermione tensed, gripping her wand in an effort not to lash out at the girl opposite her. It was a good thing they were standing up for this task, as Hermione stepped closer and leaned over the Slytherin's work bench.
"Maybe it's something I can help resolve for you; get it off your chest. Don't want it eating away at you now, do we?" Hermione remarked impatiently.
"Oh, the Head Girl wants to help me? How altruistic of you. I'll tell you how you can fix it, Granger. Admit you staged your feigned illness rather than blame it on Draco. Who knew you were so vindictive."
"What?" Hermione blanched. Where did she get off saying that? "You think I faked being sick just to get Malfoy removed from his Head position? You're out of your mind!" Hermione failed to realise her voice had just escalated several decibels. She felt a hand on her shoulder, and turned to see Ron by her side.
"Everything alright here?" he asked, glaring at Daphne.
"You should ask Daphne. She's the one with the problem," Hermione spat, ignoring Ron's consoling tone and the fact that half the classroom was now focused on the two girls.
"At least I don't pretend to be Miss Perfect. You should be the one removed from the Head position. Planting alcohol in Malfoy's room and pretending that he spiked your pumpkin juice with some pathetic potion is just below the belt, Granger. Couldn't handle the fact that Draco wasn't interested, perhaps?"
Hermione impulsively brought her wand up and aimed. "Take it back!" she threatened, her voice low and menacing, that even Ron pulled back.
"That's enough!" Professor McGonnagall snapped firmly, walking over. "Detention, both of you. Tonight after dinner. My office. I will not have disruptions in my classroom," she ordered, her face stern and unimpressed. Hermione lowered he wand, shutting her eyes to control her temper.
"Sorry, Professor," she muttered.
Professor McGonagall nodded. "Miss Granger, I think you should take the rest of the morning off. While I appreciate your eagerness to return to class, I imagine you are not quite recovered."
She felt Ron squeeze her arm reassuringly. "Yes, I'm not quite myself, yet," she replied, moving to gather her things.
She gave Ron a conciliatory glance before leaving the classroom.
What a great start to her return. And to top it off, she had detention with the vile Daphne.
There was only one place that could mollify her nerves.
Her fourth floor hideaway.
It was remarkable how a space could bring so much comfort to a person. Hermione let out a small sigh as she shut herself away. Despite the events of her last visit, it hardly mattered now. Things had never been so testing. Neveretheless, it was enough that her magic was still intact.
She should be grateful.
Hermione decidedly walked over to her mini library, pulling out the title she had referred to once before: Magical Enlightenment: Heightening your sensory perception. She turned to the page on Discharging Desires, which had caught her attention, for perhaps all the wrong reasons, when she had first investigated Malfoy's dutch courage inducing potion. If only she had known then what would transpire beyond the foundations of a fruitless placebo effect. Hermione scanned the text as she walked over to the desk and sat down, in disbelief at what had been under her nose the whole time.
'Discharging desires: Occasionally, a substance, even in its most elementary form, will procure an unpredictable reaction to an individual's emotional output. Senses are impeded, but in a manner that is irregular and incoherent. This reaction exists beyond a potion's fixed purpose to elicit an emotional connection in another, such as the love potion, where the brewer's purpose is to make their intended fall blindly for them.
Here the victim is truly aware of their state of being - their desires. They cannot be controlled, or pre-mediated, unless they are harnessed and diverted with equal force. It goes beyond a mere reaction to ingredients. It is a reaction to the magic.
…
The more a person acts on the induced desires, the greater the difficulty in breaking them…'
Hermione shut the book, unwilling to read anymore.
She was too fearful to indulge her curiosity. She leaned back against the soft velvet. A state of confliction washed over her: if she stayed she would keep reading in distress. If she left, she would return to an isolated Head digs.
Reluctantly, Hermione put the book away, knowing she would come back to it when she was in a more stable state of mind.
She opened her door to leave her sanctuary.
"Thought I might find you here."
"Malfoy!" she yelped in surprise. He was leaning against the wall on the opposite end of the hall, with his arms crossed.
The last thing she expected was that he would come searching for her. "What are you doing here?" she questioned reprovingly.
He reached into his robe and pulled out a rolled up sheet of parchment.
"The contract," she breathed as she recognised the familiar scroll.
"I thought this might catch your interest," he remarked.
Hermione rolled her eyes at his attempt to make light of the circumstances.
"How thoughtful of you," she retorted, hiding her piqued interest. Really, she just wanted to grab it off him and shut him out. He pushed off the wall and walked right up to her, leaning against the door way. She regarded him quietly.
"Snape must have you doped up on heavy stuff. You seem like you don't want to jump me for a change." He gave her a smarmy grin. One full of ulterior motive.
What happened to hating the person responsible for his 'ex-Head Boy' status? Hermione pursed her lips, unsure with how to treat his approach.
She resorted to old habits.
"Save your jokes, Malfoy. I've already had an earful of rubbish today," she replied plainly. Why did he always have to be the antagonist? It riled her to no end. "Besides, isn't the real mystery how you've managed to contain your...urges?" she shot back, turning away from him to walk back into the room.
The ex-Head boy followed her in silently and shut the door behind him. Hermione debated whether to sit on the chair or the floor, as she battled with how to deal with one non-hostile Slytherin Prince.
Silence surrounded them.
"Guess you win, Granger," he spoke up.
She spun around to face him, leaning against her desk. 'What a way to change the subject,' she mused.
"So, we're still treating this as a competition of sorts, are we?" she replied flatly, baffled by his approach. "I don't quite see it that way, considering..." She shrugged, not wishing to remind herself of the price of her win.
The Slytherin raked his fingers through his hair, a flicker of hesitation apparent. "What do you want me to say, Granger? You have no one to account to. I've had to fucking explain why I no longer hold a Head badge. I figure you, of all people, would understand my reason for trying to make light of the situation."
"Since when have I been your outlet for level headed indulgence, Malfoy?" Hermione inquired teresly, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Since you're the only bloody person who knows what the fuck is going on!" he retaliated with exasperation. "Come on, Granger. Surely, after you nearly..." he turned away from her, running his fingers through his hair again in agitation. "Fuck!" he breathed.
Hermione had never felt so completely mystified. She figured she'd try to steer the conversation into a direction that could result in some answers.
"What did you say to Madam Pomfrey to convince her to break the no visitor rule?" she asked suddenly.
She saw his shoulders stiffen at her question. Malfoy turned slowly, his cool grey eyes chancing a glance in her direction before he directed his gaze to her books.
"I told you, Blaise sent me. Pomfrey wasn't too hard to convince since I represented the concern of the school body."
Hermione snorted.
"What?" He averted his eyes back to her, looking irate.
"You represent the concern of the school body?" It was laughable, but she tried her best to hold it in.
"Well, not anymore, Granger," he scoffed.
"It surprised me when Professor Snape told me," she tried to reassure. Why? She had no clue.
"Snape came to see you?" He looked slightly nervous and walked over to sit in the armchair on the opposite side of the desk, which now acted as the proverbial fort protecting her from him.
Hermione nodded. "He explained everything. And, I just want to say...uh...well...thanks," she finished.
It was the Slytherin's turn to look like he had just been confounded.
"For what?"
"Well, for taking me to the Infirmary in time...uh...for telling Professor Snape, for putting yourself on the line to ensure I was given the correct treatment...under the circumstances."
Malfoy did not look pleased by her explanation. His lips tightened, and his jaw clenched.
"Why do you do that!" he exclaimed in agitation.
Hermione stared back at him blankly.
"Granger, you give me too much credit and I haven't the faintest idea why. What makes you think I was acting in your best interests?"
Obviously, she was mistaken.
And, she was sick of dismissing his reasons.
"Right, well...what in Merlin's name are you doing here, then?"
She could tell he was trying to hide his discomfort at her directness, but that calculated look of nonchalance no longer worked on her. She sensed the faintest change in his demeanour, and it unsettled her how observant of him she had become. She shrugged, raising her eyebrows simultaneously to signal her impatience. She knew it was futile, asking him straight out what his motivations were; what he wanted from her; why he had even bothered to appease her curiosity. And yet, she just couldn't help herself.
Slowly, he unrolled the parchment in his hand glancing down at it before turning it around.
Hermione flinched, blinking to reassure herself that she had registered the contents correctly, leaning over the barrier between them to get a closer look.
"It's blank," she stated disbelievingly.
"Not quite," he returned, slowly shifting his right hand from its place, revealing a faint line of elegant script across the bottom.
"What does it say?" She was too fearful to approach him to find out for herself.
"Tainted blood of the Rose," he read out loud. Hermione stared back at him wide-eyed, her sharp intake of breath audible.
Why did that sound familiar?
"Well, Granger, what do you suppose it means? Something has been sealed via the contract. Just not what we fucking expected." He threw the parchment on the desk beside him, and looked up at her, leaning over to close the distance between them. She caught his gaze, but quickly looked away.
"I don't think it has anything to do with the contract," Hermione mumbled, standing straight.
'It might have something to do with the tapestry, though,' she turned to look at the only wall hanging that had intrigued her previously.
Hermione walked across the room and stood before it, biting her lip. The two figures were still in the foreground. Her eyes slid down to the discovery she had made weeks earlier. That little piece of parchment with the barely legible script was still very much visible.
Reprisal subsists in the line of the Rose.
She let out a long confused sigh. It brought to light a whole new piece of the puzzle. The innocence of her sanctuary. How had she found it? Or, perhaps, how had it found her?
"He looks a bit like-" The voice was directly behind her. She was shocked out of her internal musings.
"You," she finished.
"Oddly...yes," he let out. She could sense him tense and she felt his body heat radiating of his robes as he shifted to stand next to her, leaning in toward the image.
"Who is Rose?" he asked.
"You tell me," she replied absently. If her memory served her correctly, that was the namesake of his great grandmother, daughter of Albatros Mabruxy.
She turned to look at him, knowing that her curt reply would agitate the Malfoy heir.
"What do you know about my ancestry, Granger?" he asked with distrust. She could see his defensive side kick in.
"Nothing...only that your great-grandmother was Rose Malfoy," she offered.
"And, what of it?" he retorted, his eyes narrowing.
"And, nothing."
"Then why mention it?" he tested, stepping closer, as if to catch her off guard. Hermione stood her ground, eyeing him squarely.
"Back off, Malfoy. It's just a lame guess. After all, the contract, which you signed...which I signed, coincidentally makes reference to a 'Rose'. Whether or not it's related to this...thing, she gestured toward the tapestry, "...is a wild guess in context. Think about it.
"And, keep an arm's length distance," she added for good measure.
She could see him fight back a response, or a smirk. Either way, he was trying not to act predictably to her sudden mention of their proximity. It was old news.
He stood straight, creating distance between them once more.
"No one can know. Have you told Potter?"
"Not yet."
"Good. Don't."
"What?"
"Just, don't say anything."
"I can't keep doing this!"
"Two days, Granger."
That was all he said. He walked out, leaving her in a state of déjà vu. Despite his demotion, the Slytherin Prince still had a hold over her.
Prat.