Oh, the bitter sting of smothered fury on a Friday evening.
Despite her humiliation at being mentioned when Professor Vector had called out Malfoy for his antics, she couldn't help but feel a bit jittery at the memory of how he'd basically put his arm around her in class.
She'd felt the stares of the other students on them and she knew it was likely only a matter of time before whispers started going around – and got back to her own friends. She hoped it took some time – she'd need to figure out what the hell it was herself before taking questions. Especially from Ginny. She could turn light questioning into a lightning round at the drop of a hat.
In an effort to stay on Ginny's good side, prior to Ginny hearing anything that might land Hermione on her bad side, she'd agreed to some ridiculous plans that evening. Despite the fact that she was confident there'd be plenty of drinking in Hogsmeade tomorrow, Ginny had, albeit quite vaguely, explained there'd be a party of sorts that evening. Only seventh- and eighth-year students were allowed to attend, so she supposed a few drinks among friends wouldn't be completely reckless.
Hermione did however remain unclear on the specifics of where this would be held, as well as who all would be coming. Despite her lack of clarity, Ginny had specified that she and Anthony had taken care of planning and that McGonagall had actually authorized such a gathering. Hermione was shocked by that.
She felt lighter on her feet as they made their way back to their dorms after dinner knowing she wouldn't be bending any rules. As she and Ginny opened the closet doors to allow for style consulting, Hermione found she was rather excited to enjoy a night of fun with her friends. She'd been cracking under the stress of her Malfoy entanglement, but he'd started to… grow on her. Like a bloody fungus.
She wasn't ready to try to explain whatever was going on, but she no longer felt a complete sense of impending doom regarding the situation. That left room for her to pencil in some less excruciating activities.
Before she began trying to decide on an outfit, she padded into Ginny's bedroom.
"Gin, where exactly are we going tonight?"
Ginny glanced up from her bed, where she'd been reading a book and digesting after their meal.
"Oh, actually, I need to talk to you about that," she said, closing her book. Hermione's eyebrows furrowed. Why would Ginny need to discuss a location with her?
"Okay…"
"An event of some sort for the older students was actually McGonagall's suggestion. Anthony and I have been trying to determine a space large enough to hold the party since our meeting with her."
Hermione still didn't know what this had to do with her.
"Originally, I thought that perhaps we could use the Room of Requirement – that way, I wouldn't have to worry about doing much legwork to prepare."
"Ginny, the Room-"
"I know. We went to scope it out – it isn't quite… ready to offer itself for us to use yet. McGonagall had mentioned she expected the room's magic would still be healing after last year."
Right. Crabbe's brilliant fiendfyre experiment. Hermione shuddered at the memory of the diadem and her dead classmate.
"That makes sense," Hermione nodded as she answered.
"Right, well, it's not as though any of the house common rooms are large enough, and that wouldn't work actually, since no other years are allowed to attend-"
"Large enough? How many students are you expecting to come?"
"Well, that's just the thing. I'm not sure because McGonagall only approved the event under the expectation that… all seventh- and eighth-year students be extended an invitation."
Bugger.
"So, that being said, and I know you don't particularly like quidditch, we've determined the best place would be on the pitch." Ginny finished, looking at Hermione like she expected a negative response.
"First of all, I don't dislike quidditch. I just don't obsess over it like some people do," Hermione began, giving Ginny a knowing look, "and second of all, why would I take issue with a small party on the pitch? It has nothing to do with quidditch. Which, since you've brought it up, is not a sport for everyone. Because under most circumstances, it becomes unnecessarily violent." Hermione finished.
"Right! You're right, Hermione," Ginny agreed enthusiastically, "let's pick out something to wear. Make sure to wear shoes that you don't mind walking in the grass with." Ginny was steering her back through the closet towards her wardrobe, as the frocks hanging in their shared space now seemed a bit fancy for the occasion.
Hermione remained completely unclear on why Ginny thought she'd react negatively to a gathering on the quidditch pitch. What did her general dislike of violence, often characteristic of the game of quidditch, have to do with anything? Had Ginny been smoking something herbal that Neville had grown? She seemed nervous and paranoid.
After helping Hermione to pick something to wear – her jeans and the same boots she'd worn on the first night back – and a simple black cardigan, Ginny disappeared back into her own room, leaving Hermione to get ready. She applied the bare minimum in terms of makeup – just touching up the mascara left over from today and a bit more gloss. She also dusted her cheeks with a bit of blush and put on a pat of very tame glittery shadow – you could hardly see it at all, just enough to make her eyes pop a bit. She decided to secure her hair in the ponytail she'd been wearing all week. As she did up the last button on her top, riskily leaving the top two undone, she walked back through to Ginny's room to see if she was all set to get going. It was nearly 8 PM.
She found Ginny's room empty. Hm.
She walked down to the bathrooms to check and see if she'd gone to have a pee, but only Parvati was there, running her fingers through her hair at the sink.
"Parvati, have you seen Ginny? We were just getting ready and she's disappeared," Hermione asked lightly.
"Oh, yes, you just missed her. She and Dean were heading down early to set up for the game. That, and she wanted to check on the refreshments."
Hm. Why didn't she say she'd be leaving early? Hermione would've been happy to help her set up.
"Wait – Parvati, did you say set up for the game?" Hermione asked, turning back around instead of continuing out the door.
"Yeah, she couldn't do it earlier because McGonagall doesn't know they're going to be playing a pickup round, and she and the rest of them wanted to sneak their brooms down before everyone was out in the corridors." Parvati spoke matter-of-factly while she leaned closer to the mirror, swiping away something invisible from under her eye.
Hermione started shaking her head tiredly, pinching the bridge of her nose as she felt the beginnings of a stress headache.
That's why Ginny had been beating around the bush about the party location with Hermione. The quidditch pitch wasn't the only neutral location they could go. It was the only bloody quidditch pitch!
It then dawned on her that, given the fact that everyone their year was invited, Draco Malfoy and his platoon might be in attendance. She hadn't thought of that – surely, if there was going to be a mixer thrown by the Heads, the Slytherins would be graciously declining their invitation. If there was going to be a cluster fuck of drinking and pick-up quidditch? She figured they'd definitely drop by.
And Ginny thought the unsupervised game of quidditch was what Hermione would be upset about.
To be fair, she wasn't thrilled about that part, either.
Draco honestly couldn't believe his good luck. Well actually, he could. He led a charmed life for the most part.
But, honestly – what more could he ask for? When Goldstein had come down to the dungeons before dinner to let he and Pansy know there'd be a school-wide party for the seventh- and eighth-years, he'd been about to laugh in the bloke's face. But then, on second thought, he realized any event that Weaslette was organizing would likely be attended by a certain best friend of hers. So, he held the snark.
Imagine his surprise when Goldstein, goody two-shoes that he was, turned to make sure the corridor was clear before leaning in to let he and Pansy know that McGonagall herself had approved the event – agreeing not to require chaperones, given that the attendees would have to be of legal drinking age. But also, McGonagall had no idea that there would also be a pick-up game of quidditch, teams to be determined based on how many people showed up.
Then he gave a bullshit little speech about how this was supposed to be an event to foster unity and camaraderie among the older students. It seemed the Headmistress had picked up on the tension between Slytherin and… everybody. She was truly brilliant.
Draco would've agreed to go just because he knew Granger would probably be there, and he couldn't pass up an opportunity to grace her with his presence. But alcohol and quidditch? Now, he was pretty sure he'd stop by to evaluate even if he knew Granger was quarantined in the hospital wing with dragonpox.
As Goldstein turned to leave and Draco made to re-enter the common room, Pansy grabbed his arm and called after the Head Boy.
"Goldstein, you're telling me you and Weasley are willing to risk your positions just to have a little booze fest on brooms? What aren't you saying?" Draco was endlessly impressed, and annoyed, with Pansy's attention to detail. He read between the lines – while he'd been too distracted by the prospect of trying to get Granger a little drunk and handsy in the broom shed – Pansy had realized the potential repercussions of his attendance. And Adrian's. They didn't get any strikes – one wrong move, and Potfuck and Weasel would be materializing to cuff him like the attention-seeking twats they were.
Shit. Pansy was right. He couldn't go.
"Right, I understand your concern," Goldstein looked cautiously towards Probation Legend Draco Malfoy, "But Ginny and I are quite confident that, given McGonagall's approval, lack of chaperones, legality of alcoholic consumption by adult witches and wizards, and the absence of rules against flying during your free time…" Damn, what house was this fucker in, again?
Draco had to give it to the Head Boy and Sheasley. They'd thought ahead. Technically, since no official game of quidditch was scheduled, there was no need for officials or gamekeepers to be alerted. It was pure snake methodology.
"Well, I'll be fucking charmed, Goldstein." Draco let out a chuckle in Anthony's direction, not even trying to hide he was impressed.
Goldstein, who Draco had assumed was a complete bitch, cracked half a grin. Not bad. Draco glanced down at the pin on Goldstein's robes. His Head Boy decoration also showed the Ravenclaw crest. Figured.
What the fuck was the She Weasel's excuse for such sneaky, effective behavior?
"I'm serious, Anthony," Pansy started, "They could end up in the seaside fucking prison if anything happens tonight. I'm going to need your word that you'd-"
"Take it easy, Pans. I hardly see these two actually doing this if they weren't sure we wouldn't get into too deep of shit. I mean, they can't send me to Azkaban for participating in a unification workshop." He wasn't totally confident, but he was also starting to consider sitting out of the match. He didn't want to risk any injuries to his recovering form, specimen of health though it was.
He definitely was not thinking about how a match would cut into the time he had to try to get Granger alone. The thought had never even crossed his mind.
Goldstein headed back towards the main floor as Pansy turned to him.
"Fine, Draco. It's your bloody funeral. I can't stop you from avada'ing yourself in the foot." Then her eyes narrowed as she took in his expression. Pansy saw right through him. She always had.
"What the fuck am I missing, you twat?"
As Hermione made her way down to the pitch with the rest of the oldest Gryffindors, sans Ginny and Dean, she felt her nerves eating away at her stomach lining. She had a terrible feeling about all of it.
As they traveled in a pack down the corridor, she noticed the Ravenclaws, also traveling all together, coming from the opposite direction. She gained a bit of a spring in her step at the idea of speaking to Padma. Her secret keeper. Ginny was going to be thoroughly pissed off at her when she found out someone else knew about Draco first. If she ever spoke to her again once she knew the truth.
Draco?
Malfoy. He was sodding Malfoy.
Padma instantly gravitated towards her twin sister, who happened to be walking shoulder to shoulder with Hermione.
"Pav, you didn't ask me to take that jumper before we came back to school. I've been looking for it," she sounded both pleased to finally have located the shirt Parvati was wearing and equally irritated to see her twin in it.
"I'll give it right back after tonight," Parvati promised, knowing it was a bit late for Padma to demand she turn around and change now.
"Oh! Hi there Hermione," Padma greeted Hermione, moving to walk between the two Gryffindors.
"Hello," Hermione replied, unease clear in her voice.
"What's wrong? Has something happened?" Padma whispered quietly.
"Oh gods – you're not going to-" Hermione had been anxious to divulge her transgression but stopped herself before spilling her guts to Padma. They weren't alone in a classroom, nor were they safe behind Hermione's muffliato.
"I'm just a bit worried about a pickup quidditch match is all," Hermione replied, but leaned into whisper in Padma's ear.
"I'll tell you later." Padma nodded, pretty effectively masking her concern.
"What are you two talking about?" Parvati asked from her place on the other side of Padma.
"Nothing," Hermione and Padma responded in unison. Hermione tried not to cringe at how much more suspicious they now seemed.
Parvati tilted her head, looking at the two of them with interest. Luckily, they'd reached the doors leading out to the pitch. The buzz of music and chatter was too exciting for Parvati to ignore. She turned her head to look back ahead of her, entwining her fingers with her twin's.
"Padma, when's the last time we had a proper night of drinks?" Parvati asked her sister.
Padma glanced back at Hermione to shoot her a departing smile, allowing her twin to drag her forward at a much quicker pace.
"Far too long, Pav." Hermione heard her reply. Despite Parvati's piqued interest in Hermione and Padma's newfound bond, she had to admit – Hermione loved watching the way the two sisters interacted. They were such stereotypical twins in so many ways. A bit like Fred and George had been.
Hermione blinked back a few tears. She missed Fred. And she missed hearing George laugh like his heart was in it.
She shook off the unexpected wave of grief that threatened to ruin the mascara she'd just recently reapplied and walked through the entrance onto the pitch. She realized quickly that the Slytherins hadn't arrived yet. Not that it mattered to her.
She immediately made a beeline towards a quite distinctive red head of hair.
"Ginevra Weasley!" Hermione called, smirking when she saw Ginny go pale at the use of her full name. She'd be hearing what Hermione really thought about the location, alright.
After a good round of admonishing Ginny for redacting pertinent event details, the two now stood with large glasses of some odd-looking punch concoction that Ginny had prepared in great quantity.
It was actually quite good. Hermione had, however, been a bit triggered by it when she'd smelled it prior to taking a sip.
There was definitely firewhiskey in Ginny's recipe.
Hermione had successfully convinced Ginny to officiate the match instead of playing chaser. Her friend had rolled her eyes, but ultimately agreed to sit out from the action – this way, she could drink a bit more. And the punch was quite good, if Ginny did say so herself.
Hermione felt much less stressed, now. Someone with half a mind for the rules of quidditch could oversee the game, and Ginny risked far less by way of punishments. She didn't want to take any chances with Ginny's position as Head Girl – despite much reassurance that absolutely no rules would technically be broken. Hermione was sure the rules were at least being bent. She tended to think McGonagall would agree with her.
The Slytherins had still yet to turn up, and Hermione wondered if they would skip the party after all. The looming possibility of seeing Malfoy made her much more easily pressured by Ginny to chug their punch. Within 10 minutes, they'd each chugged an entire cup and a half. Hermione now nursed the back end of her second.
She'd honestly begun feeling a bit warm and fuzzy after the first half of her first glass. Hermione felt positively content now. She even began to relax at the thought of Draco and his stupid fucking (handsome) face showing up. She'd decided she didn't care either way.
She was definitely feeling a buzz. Or a little more than a buzz.
To her pleasant surprise, Parvati had ditched her sister to mingle among the single boys from Hufflepuff. She must've determined that her soulmate was not a Gryffindor by now – and, it seemed, no Ravenclaws were catching her eye. It was a perfect opportunity for Padma to mosey over to Ginny and Hermione. Surely, her curiosity about what Hermione needed to tell her had gotten the best of her. Before her twin had fluttered off to flirt, though, it seemed they too had been encouraging the mystery death punch down one another's throat.
After chatting with Hermione and Padma for a bit, Ginny grew distracted by the circle forming amongst quidditch hopefuls. She ducked out of conversation with them to go try to maintain some semblance of organization among the men and women holding brooms.
Perfect. Hermione had a certain story to share with Padma and it was nearly burning a hole in the side of her cheek. The twosome sat at the edge of the main crowd, well out of earshot of anyone who'd be interested in what they were discussing. The loud chatter, music and laughter also helped to quell Hermione's nerves about anyone overhearing. Well, that and the nearly empty second cup of death punch in her hand.
"So… I had rounds with Malfoy again last night." She began, still pretty much whispering in Padma's ear. Padma's eyes snapped to attention, encouraging Hermione to continue.
"Something happened. I don't even know how."
"Something good or something… not?" Padma asked.
"Well, I think I know what you meant the other day. About how you and Adrian… ended up the way you were when Malfoy and I stumbled upon you." Padma's jaw dropped.
"Well?! How was it? I told you, Hermione. I told you he wasn't trying to torture you. He's probably feeling the same way as you are."
"How can he be feeling the same way as I am if I have no idea how I feel? He's still… Malfoy. Still infuriating and pratty and spoilt." Hermione sighed.
"But? Did you snog him?"
It was the punch. That's what made her giggle at the memory and look down at her feet.
"Hermione Granger!" Padma was growing impatient. Hermione snapped her features back into her best attempt at indifference.
"It happened so fast. I don't think it was a snog. It was… I can't even say what it was, really. But it was different than your everyday snog. It felt like… more. I'm even more confused. I think." Unintelligent descriptions weren't Hermione's thing. Padma smiled.
"I bet it was." She wiggled her eyebrows.
"Stop it! I'm clearly confused, maybe even worthy of an evaluation! Mentally, I can't be well."
"Hermione. Keep in mind he's literally linked to you in the most intimate way possible. To your magical core. And it only worked out this way because you two are… extremely compatible. In every way – scholastically, in terms of your magic… intimately. Physically."
Hermione's face warmed even further.
"Well? Are there any updates on your relationship?" Hermione inquired, changing the subject before she melted into a heap in the grass.
"I don't know that I'd call it a relationship at this point, Hermione. We're in a more stable boat than you and Malfoy, but I'm still quite confused myself. We don't really… talk." It was Hermione's turn to raise her eyebrows.
"Oh, no?" Interesting.
"I haven't shagged him, if that's what you're implying. I resent the insinuation." Padma feigned outrage, but Hermione could tell she wasn't finished yet.
"I feel like it's magnetic with him. Like I end up running into him in the corridors anytime I'm not walking with someone else. We just stumble into each other and kiss until we hear someone coming. Well, until I hear someone coming. He doesn't seem as rattled by the prospect of being caught."
"Have you spoken at all?" Hermione was curious.
"He says… nice things when we're together. Tells me I'm beautiful and that he doesn't know how it took him this long to notice me." She smiled shyly.
"I think we both know exactly what it is that's bringing us together. I know we'll talk about it at some point. It's just strange to feel so physically connected to someone. I've never even spoken to him before. A month ago, if you told me this would be the one I bonded with… I'd be completely shocked."
"Tell me about it." Hermione laughed back.
"But I don't know. I've always thought he was fit. Even during our first year. I've really always appreciated his physical appearance." Hermione nodded even though she didn't necessarily relate. She'd always been blinded by disgust with Malfoy's awful personality. Never noticed his strong jaw and broad shoulders and his grey eyes. Never once thought anything like that maybe he'd be halfway handsome if he wasn't such a tosser.
Then Padma's focus shifted back in the direction of the entrance to the pitch. Hermione immediately turned to see what she was looking at.
She paled and her fingers flew up to adjust her ponytail. Then snapped back down, her alcohol-hazed brain catching up so she could remember she didn't give a hippogriff's arse what she looked like. She wasn't wishing for a mirror to check her appearance. Absolutely not.
Because she didn't care what the tall blonde leading the Slytherins into the party thought of her.
Chapter 21: Twenty One
Summary:
In which the snakes arrive and drinks are had.
Chapter Text
Draco Malfoy always did know how to make an entrance.
He'd taken a few swigs from his flask as he lounged on his bed. Pansy would fetch him when she was ready to head to the fucking candle pass with all their wonderful classmates.
And so, 20 minutes after he knew the party was set to begin, he opened his bedroom door to find Pansy looking quite nice. He might not want to shag her, but he wasn't blind. She'd made herself more than presentable while still maintaining the Slytherin air of indifference. Well done.
And so he and his house made their way to the quidditch pitch, walking out onto the scene 35 minutes after they were told to arrive. Fashionably late. His mother always said you didn't want to seem too eager to show up to an event, especially of this sort, by showing up right on time. Purebloods were bred to appreciate punctuality, but there were of course exceptions to the rules.
He saw Granger sitting off on the edge of the crowd with whichever Patil that was before he'd even fully entered the arena. Whichever twin it was, he was sure it was the one Pucey seemed involved with. The one he and Granger had caught his mate with earlier that week. Interesting that they were huddled together. He'd never seen Granger with her before, not unless they were in a group.
Being the smooth bastard he was, Draco made sure to turn his gaze towards the rest of the crowd before she could catch him leering at her. He wasn't some desperate little puppy. He was a Malfoy.
Goldstein approached them with the She Weasel at his heels. Lovely.
"I'm glad you lot made it. The Headmistress was really hoping you'd all show. We were too." The Head Boy nodded, seeming a bit drunk. Loose lips sink ships, Anthony.
"Speak for yourself." Weaslette spat from Goldstein's left. Always a treat to speak with her.
"Don't be shy, Weasley. I know you've been sneaking glances at the gates all night waiting for people with brains to show up." Blaise had stolen a few swigs of Draco's firewhiskey before they'd left. Draco was looking forward to the show. His best mate always did please the crowds when he drank.
"You fucking wish, Zabini." Anthony elbowed her as if to remind Sheasley she was meant to be setting an example. Tisk tisk, Ginevra. How ever would Potter reunite the wizarding world if his girlfriend couldn't even play nice?
"Er – I meant you're incorrect, Blaise," she smiled acidly, "with respect, of course." Goldstein rolled his eyes at her awful attempt at neutrality. She truly was a perfect match for the Potty. So quick to anger.
"What she means is that the drinks are over there," Goldstein gestured towards a rather extensive collection of bowls full of similar-colored liquid, "help yourselves. Maybe hold off if you're planning to play. Shit is deadly."
"Maybe if you hold your alcohol like a little bitch." Weasley added.
"Don't worry about us, Weaslette. We're all quite prolific drinkers." Draco sneered at her. She rolled her eyes and turned, walking off in Granger's direction. Hmm. That was something – maybe he'd follow her, pretend to be interested in further baiting her – then he could insert himself into Granger's space quite quickly.
He elected to hold off. He wasn't a patient man, but he didn't want to seem too excited.
Actually, he didn't give a shit how he seemed. He just wanted to drink the free booze, which he was sure would taste like goblin piss.
Pansy and Blaise started strolling towards the drinks. Theo came to walk beside Draco.
"Any plans to charm your witch tonight, Drake?" He asked cheerfully.
"Fuck off, Nott. I haven't any idea who you're referring to, first of all. I don't have a witch," Draco spat.
"And second of all, Malfoys don't make fucking plans to charm anyone. Anything I do will be based on pure, impressive instinct." He finished.
Theo chuckled.
"Right. Of course, mate."
"Where's your fucking," Draco physically restrained himself from allowing an insult to pass his lips, electing not to get himself put in a chokehold, "friend."
"My girlfriend is talking to Susan Bones and Katie Bell. Actually, I think Granger and her friends look to be joining them over there. Care to accompany me, Draco? I think I'll try to make an impression, bring over some punch for the group." Now Theo was trying to get Draco to hit him.
"As I said before, Theo. Fuck off." Theo nodded with a laugh, filling two glasses of that punch shit and floating past Draco towards his batshit crazy... girlfriend?
Draco looked around at the spread with exaggerated disgust, moving to pour himself a fat glass of the shit, but doing so with great pain in his features.
"Oh, don't look so fucking fancy, mate. Color is fucked, but this shit is actually halfway decent. Red wasn't lying – it definitely has a kick. Not for the faint of heart." Blaise joked.
Draco took a sip. He was pleasantly surprised by the taste, there was definitely Ogden's in it – but he made sure to look positively unimpressed.
"I'm not going to pass up an opportunity to deplete the resources available to fucking Hufflepuffs." Draco spat without any real malice, taking another swig, privately glad that he'd elected not to bring his personal flask after all. This shit would do – and he could avoid further diminishing his own reserves.
He could feel Pansy looking at him – and he could hear the bloody wheels turning as he did his best to avoid looking in Granger's direction. She'd pretty quickly deduced earlier that he had some sort of ulterior motive in attending the party tonight. Especially after he promised her that he wouldn't participate in the match.
Combine that with the fact that she'd still been pretty pissed about the whole throwing Blaise against the wall by his throat thing, and it made for a very suspicious Pansy Parkinson. She'd begun peppering Draco with questions immediately upon Goldstein's departure earlier. He knew it was only a matter of time before she figured out that the whole potion and bond thing was at play… hopefully, it would take much longer for her to figure out just who was the object of Draco's attention. He had no idea what was going to happen, and he definitely didn't want to start taking any questions. He inwardly kicked himself for dropping such a hint by convincing her to swap one of her prefect patrols with him. Based on what he'd gotten into last night though, it was still worth the risk of setting Pansy on his trail more quickly.
That, and he still had some unsettled nerves over the whole thing. Him and Granger? Inextricably linked forever? Just an absolute bloody shock for everyone involved. That, and he hadn't even let himself consider what might happen when his mother learned of his predicament.
Despite Blaise's reassurance that Narcissa Malfoy would find a way to accept anything that made Draco happy (which, did this count? He wasn't particularly joyful about it), he still worried how she'd react to the news. Based on his understanding of the way the whole linked magical cores thing worked, her grandchildren would be half-bloods. If Granger ever let him get that far. If he even wanted to get that far…
Her grandchildren?! Draco immediately forced himself to pace his drinking. He'd finished three quarters of a cup of Weasley's concoction, and he was already considering the possible half breeds he might produce with Granger in the future. Had she put Longbottom's crops from the greenhouses in this shit, as well? Surely, he wouldn't start entertaining such thoughts after just a few drinks.
"What's got your knickers in a twist, Draco?" Pansy was ready to attack. He needed to be especially careful tonight if he wanted to make it off the quidditch pitch with her still in the dark about his new, strange fascination with Hermione Granger.
"Not a clue what you're talking about, Pansy." He replied with boredom.
"Okay, Draco. If that's how you're going to handle whatever is going on with you, go right ahead. We both know you won't be able to stop me from figuring it out. Sniffing out shit you're trying to hide is a special talent of mine."
"Yes, we know, Pans. That's why we keep you around. No point in excluding you from the group if you know everything about us. Could get us into a right fucking bind." Blaise chuckled, to Draco's relief – he was diffusing Pansy without Draco even having to say a word. Now he'd need to do something to make it up to Blaise not only because he'd just covered his arse with Pansy but also for Draco attempting to strangle him. Blaise really was a decent mate. And Draco would need to do something pretty decent to pay him back. Great, add it to his bloody list of stops on the redemption tour.
Pansy shot them each a glare before turning on her heel and stomping over towards Theo. Great. Even Pansy was mingling with Granger's associates. Hopefully none of them gave anything away while he was out of earshot.
He decided it was as good a time as ever to check in on what Granger was doing. To his absolute pleasure, when he looked over at her, she was already staring at him. She had to be drunk. It took her much longer than usual to snap her gaze away from his after being caught creeping. Not that he wasn't guilty of doing the same.
"Draco, you do realize that you have a perfect opportunity to get in Granger's face now that two of our friends appear to be engrossed in conversation with her, right? Feel like making things public and official this evening, my friend?" Blaise asked, clearly feeling the punch and also feeling adventurous. Normally, Draco loved to bear witness to Blaise's mischievous antics when he was drinking. Unfortunately, after that comment, Draco worried he might become the object of Blaise's focus. This could quickly get messy.
He'd need to play it just right. Agree with Blaise without seeming too affected either way. The more Blaise suspected he was getting to you; the quicker things would unravel. Not that he thought his friend would do anything too crazy. He was a loyal and caring son of a bitch underneath it all.
"Not a bad idea, mate. I wouldn't mind taking the piss out of a few drunk Gryffindors. These opportunities don't come about as often as I'd like." Draco knew he sounded unmoved. Blaise laughed in response.
"How much more fucking odd could Loony get? Weird bird without any substances. Imagine a few drinks in her. She's really got me second guessing Theo's house placement." Blaise answered as he and Draco began to stroll over towards Theo, Luna and Pansy. As Draco's luck would have it, Granger, She Weasel and whichever fucking Patil that was, the one Adrian wanted to shag, were still conversing amongst themselves right next to the other small group. He knew it wouldn't be long until Loony merged the two circles.
He and Blaise finally made their way over to stand beside Theo and Pansy.
"Hello there, Draco Malfoy," Lovegood greeted pleasantly, "Hi Blaise."
"Why not say my full name, as well, Lovegood?" Blaise inquired.
"Good question. I suppose Blaise stands better on its own. Draco sounds so much more common." Loony replied. Again, she got more fucking weird every time he listened to her speak. He'd never met or even heard of another Draco besides himself. Yet Blaise stood alone, and Draco Lucius Malfoy sounded like a commoner to this bint? Please. He rolled his eyes instead of responding and took another swig of the drink he'd refilled again just before walking over.
He didn't really give a shit about what Lovegood thought of his name. Not when he could feel Granger staring at him from her little group of Gryffindors. Actually, that one Patil was in Ravenclaw, wasn't she? At least Adrian had that going for him.
"Hey – Granger," Pansy called towards her. What the fuck? It would be Pansy to bring them all together?
He turned to look at Granger as well, and she looked at him first, eyes wide, before turning her attention to Parkinson. Who hopefully hadn't noticed Granger's… subtlety?
"Yeah, Pansy?" She asked, walking over a little shyly with her two friends on either side of her.
"Just wondering how things are going. I'm sure you miss me on Thursdays. I do apologize for sticking this fucking tosser on you," Pansy nodded towards Draco. Oh, Pansy. You have no idea.
"Don't worry about it," Granger said with a smile, sounding entirely too submissive. C'mon Granger. Bite off someone else's head for a change.
"No need to apologize to her," Draco said to Pansy while staring at Granger, "I'm a delight, as you know. She hardly even remembers you're gone at the end of an evening with me." He lifted one eyebrow in Granger's direction. She actually fucking blushed. Damnit, it was difficult to be unaffected by her. She was so fucking cute.
Fuck, he was an idiot. He was poking the bloody sleeping giant that was drunk Blaise. He turned now to see Blaise laughing at the exchange. Maybe, Draco's repayment would come in the form of not fucking cursing him.
"Get a room, eh, Draco?" Blaise teased.
Draco had been expecting something like that. Granger… not so much. The blush was gone, and she was now pale as shit. Her eyes widened at Blaise's taunt.
"A room?" Great, Loony was speaking again.
"Never mind, Luna," he heard Theo say softly to the witch. At least one of his friends didn't behave like a bloody grindylow when drinking. The strange blonde just gazed pleasantly back at Theo, seemingly letting the issue go.
"Are you feeling better, Pansy?" Granger asked. Oh, come the fuck on. She was too bloody concerned about the well-being of others. Focus on something that mattered. Like letting him drag you back behind a fucking shed, as he had imagined doing.
"Much. Thanks for asking." Pansy was being all pleasant back. Whatever. Even Draco acknowledged Granger's kindness could be a bit disarming. Not that he'd ever had the pleasure of being on the receiving end.
"What about Draco and Theo, Granger? Not worried about their recovery processes? Not either one of them? That's hard to believe," Blaise was going to get fucking murdered if he kept it up.
"Zabini, why is it that you keep baiting my friend with… not bait?" Sheasel said, confused and irritated all at once.
"Not bait?" Blaise smiled. Draco turned and shot him a glare for the ages. He raised his hands in surrender.
"Alright, I'll fuck off. Say, Patil, are you and your sister interested in spending a bit of time with a big, bad Slytherin?" He wiggled his eyebrows at Granger's other bodyguard. How much had Blaise had to fucking drink? Actually, never mind. Draco was pretty sure no one else knew something was going on between Patil A here and Pucey. Patil B should be a fine conquest, though.
"What's that you're asking about, Blaise?" Oh, fucking great. Adrian had now joined the fun. This was a fucking disaster. He hadn't gotten Granger alone for a fucking second, much less a chance at the shed.
"Oh, nothing, Adrian. Just making some offers, you know me." With that, Blaise actually fucked off, to Draco's great relief. He appeared to be heading over to refill his drink – outstanding. Draco would have to find a way to disperse the fucking reunification club here before his tosser of a friend came back to further blow shit up.
"Weaslette, do tell me, how do you expect to have a pickup match with all these drunk fucks prancing about? Seems so reckless and unsafe," Draco tried.
"What, such as yourself?" She shot back.
"Did you miss the part where I'm a Slytherin there, Red? I thought you were the smart one of your brood. Of course I won't be participating in such a risky endeavor." Draco replied, again glancing at Granger, who seemed surprised to hear he wouldn't be playing.
"The fewer snakes for me to worry about putting on teams, the easier my job is." Weasley answered. She rolled her eyes, deciding perhaps it was time to get the game going – people were going to be off their asses if she waited much longer.
She started shouting for everyone playing to gather round. Swaths of dimwits began flocking. Luckily for Draco, amid the shuffle, he had the perfect opportunity to try to snag Granger. She appeared agreeable based on the way she was currently staring at him.
Chapter 22: Twenty Two
Notes:
In which Hermione and Draco seek privacy in a shed.
CONTENT WARNING: we are really going to earn our explicit rating, starting here.*
If you hate it, skim - I promise, this story will not turn into smut with a slight plot. It's about a complicated relationship between two people, and they will have sexual interactions, but I am much more banter-driven.
Chapter Text
He took a few steps in her direction but made as though he was going to walk right by her. Lowly, he spoke as he passed so only she would hear him.
"Follow me through that curtain by the faculty stand in 30 seconds, Granger. We have much to discuss. Try to use a little bit of bloody discretion. Don't fall on your face," he moved quickly past her, not missing the way her body angled itself towards him to receive any instructions. Gods, she was receptive. As he continued walking, he glanced over his shoulder to check she was going to follow. He saw only the wide-eyed Patil staring back at him over Granger's shoulder. Hopefully, she'd be able to come up with a decent enough lie to get Pucey's special friend to fuck off.
He ducked behind the privacy of the high-rise stand he'd instructed Granger to meet him under. He'd absolutely be relocating them again once she arrived. He wasn't taking any fucking chances. Not with witches like Pansy living and breathing.
He could hear footsteps approaching, so he immediately glanced down at his fingers, attempting to look bored.
Then, Granger was ducking through the cover herself, and he couldn't have been more fucking pleased - unless she'd shown up naked. Alright, that was a bit forward, even for him.
She still held a cup of Weasley's punch, and he remembered he had his own, as well. He took a sip as Granger came stomping toward him, although she seemed less pissy and composed than usual – firewhiskey could do that to a person. Draco would know.
"Thank you for gracing me with your presence, Granger. I have been missing you since our last class of the day," he smirked, waiting for her to scream at him.
"What the fuck was going on back there, Malfoy? What the fuck is Blaise Zabini's fuckin… deal?" Oh, my gods. Granger was half in the bloody bag. She was cursing, and not very smoothly. What fun.
"Don't worry about it, Granger. It's nothing."
"Actually, no, I think I will. Also, tell me why you tried to strangle him. Wanker," she added for edginess, he assumed.
"Salazar's fucking balls, back to this, are we?" He asked, deciding now would be a good time to drag her towards that supply shed he knew was on the other side of the field. Privacy was so necessary for what he planned to do.
"You know, Malfoy, you might as well tell me now," she slurred slightly as he grabbed her little arm and began to lead her around the outer perimeter towards his destination, "where the fuck are we going?"
"Granger, seriously, the swearing – it sounds unnatural at this point. Relax," he told her lazily. He was lying. It was hilarious and she should continue shooting her mouth off.
"You know, I can make you tell me," she stated matter-of-factly, swottiness again evident in her voice. Good. Maybe a bit of a stroll would help her clear her head.
Wait, would that be helpful to him? He'd have to continue evaluating.
"Make me tell you where we're going? Yeah, the fucking broom shed over there," he said pointing towards the dark structure up ahead of them, "sorry to spoil the surprise, but we are about to be in there in two fucking minutes, anyway."
"Oh, shut your bloody mouth, Draco Malfoy," she said, struggling a little to yank her arm from his grip. Her heart wasn't in it, though. He wasn't holding on particularly tightly.
"Never, Granger."
"I mean it."
"Mean what?"
"I can make you tell me why you tried to beat up Blaise Zabini. I saw the whole thing. Could have your probation Auror notified in a second, Malfoy." She said, sounding quite impressed with her threat. Draco wasn't nearly as amused. He stopped and stiffened, dropping her arm.
"You know, Granger, that's pretty fucking sick of you to hold over my head. You're the one who stuck your neck out for me in the first place, so I'd get the bloody probation. Fuck you." He spat.
"I'm sorry," she said, suddenly sobering a bit more at his harsh words – maybe her fading drunkenness would be to his benefit, after all.
"That was absolutely awful of me. I'm not going to say anything. I just want you to tell me what happened. Please." She added curiously at the end, squeaking out the whole apology. Why was her little regret voice so fucking disarming? That word again…
He held open the door to the broom shed for her after muttering a quick alohomora. She glanced inside, seeming nervous.
"Oh, Merlin's fucking tits, Granger. I'm not going to do anything. I just want to talk." Well, that was a bit of a lie. Whatever.
She looked at him with narrowed eyes, deciding after a few moments to march on in. He rolled his eyes, following and shutting the door behind him. He locked it, setting his own quick wards, silencing them so no one would hear their discussion, and also to alert him if anyone came within a few yards of the shed.
Granger raised her eyebrows.
"You're sure you haven't brought me in here to kill me, Malfoy?" She was bordering on playful now, finishing her cup of punch and placing it carefully on the dusty shelf beside her. Gods, she was so cautious not to disrupt the order of things, even in this fucking dirty old shed that didn't get opened except by Hooch during flying lessons with bloody first years.
"Well, given the fact that your magical core is sealed with mine, no. I can't risk potentially harming myself. Slytherin self-preservation and all. That should reassure you that I won't be plotting any serious harm to you, Granger. At least for now," he smirked. She rolled her eyes.
"Right, so now you're openly admitting we're soulma- soul bon- fucking whatever we are." She finished. She seemed a bit hesitant to use any of the sweeter sounding descriptions of their… thing.
"It felt quite tiring to deny it. Not when that fucking pull is always bloody-" he cut himself off before he finished the thought. Why the fuck had he brought that up?
She rolled her eyes, blowing right by it. Thank Merlin.
"So, despite my threat, are you going to explain why you tried to strangle your best friend, now? And also, maybe why Blaise Zabini seemed pretty… aware of whatever this is back there? And intent on making sure everyone else was too?" Granger's voice was getting all loud and pissed. He figured he'd just get on with it.
"He and Theo are… aware of the issue. Nott and Loony bloody Lovegood, the fucking lovebirds they are, seem to have deduced our little situation. After I tried to kick the shit out of Blaise, Theo forced my hand. I wouldn't have fucking advertised it by choice."
"Thanks, you arsehole." She shot back.
"Oh, what, now you want me to shout it from the bloody rooftops? Pick a fucking position, Granger."
"Wait a minute – why did you trying to beat up Blaise allow Theo to force your hand?" Fucking fuck. She was too sharp for her own good. He pressed his lips into a hard line. This would be difficult to get out of.
"Oh, come on, Malfoy. What? Zabini called me a mudblood, and you lost your newfound equality-focused mind?" He flinched at her use of his old favorite slur.
"Of course he fucking didn't, you bint," Draco snarled, "Blaise would never fucking use that word."
"Oh, yeah? Then what?"
He was like a cornered animal.
"He was… speaking out of turn. Being impolite."
"Jesus fucking Christ, Malfoy. Say it or I'm leaving." Now Granger's arms were crossed. She was using her muggle curses. He knew she was getting impatient. And he did still hope to find out if she'd let him grab at her arse before they returned to the pitch. He could hear the cheers and sounds of a game, albeit a bit far off, by now.
Well, fine. Anything to get him closer to being inside her knickers. No point in denying he'd really like to fucking shag her. She got more attractive every time he saw her. Even now, in a broom shed with shoddy light, he liked what he saw. She was wearing those fucking muggle trousers again.
"Fine, Granger. You want to know what he said?"
She lifted her chin, waiting for him to speak. He started closing in on her space, unable to resist getting closer to her.
Need Hermione reply? He knew she wanted to know.
He took another step towards her in the shed they were standing in. At least they had some privacy, Hermione thought.
"Alright," he said, now impossibly close, breath ghosting over her ear as he leaned down toward the left side of her neck.
"I'll tell you what he said about you, Granger. Why I tried to choke out my oldest friend, risked my probation," he growled. She shivered at the proximity. Maybe she didn't care what caused the strangulation. She kind of just wanted him to kiss her again, now.
Her back was pressed against the rough wood of the shed wall. It could be a feather bed and she wouldn't notice a difference.
"I was looking at you. As I do. Blaise noticed," the fingers of his left hand held her chin so she'd look up at him.
"I like watching you, have you noticed, Granger?" She licked her lips in response. His eyes instantly darted down to watch the motion.
Then his eyes moved back to drill into her own.
"Blaise made a point of complimenting Weaslette, said she'd gotten rather fit," he continued. Hermione was growing more confused, and not just because the mere smell of him had her head spinning.
"I don't know a fucking thing about that. I don't see much in She Weasel. Sorry, I know she's a close friend," he said, and she scowled.
He smirked back at her; he was playing with her.
He somehow leaned in closer, his lips so close to hers that if she moved even a hair, they'd brush. She was tempted to do so – but then he spoke again. And his words froze her in place.
"Then he turned his attention to you, Granger. I didn't much like that," he said.
"Wh-what?" She managed.
"You see, despite Blaise's appreciation of Weasley, he isn't fucking blind. You're the obvious prize between the two. The obvious prize compared with anyone, really, Granger," he said matter-of-factly. His words had such an effect on her. She began to squirm under his towering form.
"Actually, he mentioned these specifically," Draco hissed, moving to run his fingertips along the sides of her jeans, tickling the tops of her thighs.
"What?" She didn't understand. He'd tried to strangle his friend in front of the entire school because he'd – brought up the sides of her legs? She was missing something, and she couldn't tell if she was an idiot or if the punch was making her slow on the upswing.
He breathed a laugh, and now, she was jelly in his hands. He moved his fingers to ghost over her arse.
"He was going on and on about how you were the best looking witch, and then, he said how nice your arse looked in these stupid fucking muggle trousers," He finally told her, and again, she was frozen, paralyzed by his words and his fingers.
Then he squeezed her backside with both of his hands. The pressure made her want to scream.
"And what do you think?" She heard herself ask, too far gone on the punch and his intoxicating presence to care.
"I think you'd have to be fucking blind or fucked in the head to disagree. But that's not the point," he said, running just the tip of his tongue along the side of her neck. Holy crap, they hadn't even kissed yet. How could he be affecting her like this? She didn't care to figure out the answer. She just reached up to grip his shoulders, needing something to hold onto so she didn't topple over under the sensations.
His hands were moving from her butt to dance up her spine, and holy god, she was going to collapse soon.
"But Granger. Something you should know - I've never shared. Not once. And I don't plan to start now," he stated matter-of-factly, pulling back to bore his eyes into her own.
She couldn't even make a noise besides a tiny moan in response.
"This little fucking bond we have, it's doing strange things to me. When Blaise started talking about you, like you were there to be appreciated by everyone else… I snapped. I threw him against the wall without a second thought," she shivered, not looking away.
"That's what this shit is doing to me. Not that Malfoy's aren't historically possessive of their things. But this is different. I want to fuck you so bad, want to let everyone know to stay the fuck away from you, not to even look at you. I'll kill my own best mate just to prove a point," he told her, as if he was discussing the weather. She was a bit scared now. But so fucking turned on. It was messed up. She'd deal with that later. Maybe when he wasn't touching her.
"You do?" was all she could manage as a response. She breezed by everything but 'I want to fuck you so bad.' Woah.
He laughed.
"Yeah, Granger. I want you. To myself." His words stunned her. She didn't really know what he meant. She knew he didn't want to advertise the fact that they were soulmates, and he didn't seem like the lovey-dovey type. She was getting a strictly physical, possessive vibe. And again, she'd deal with the issues she took with that at a later time. Right now, it was doing things to her.
"Ok." She replied. He descended, finally brushing his lips against hers. She moved her hands up to hold the sides of his neck.
"Glad we're on the same page, Granger. If this shit is actually supposed to last for a fucking lifetime," he spoke against her mouth, "I want to be clear that I don't want anyone else getting in my way." She groaned, finally taking the initiative and swiping her own tongue against his lip this time. Suddenly, he was leaning to grip the backs of her thighs, quickly lifting her up and over onto the high table to her right. As he set her down, she let her legs open slightly so he could move between them. The table was, again, pretty high up. Her crotch would line up against his navel if he kept moving forward.
"Fuck," he muttered as their lips continued moving against each other. Hermione was now trying to squeeze her legs together to ease the tension in her knickers that continued to build. It was, of course, a useless exercise – his body blocked her from getting any relief.
"Has anyone ever even touched you there, Granger?" Malfoy pressed, moving back an inch and glancing down to look between her legs. Not that there was anything but denim to see.
"N-no." She answered. No sense in lying.
He smiled. She shivered.
"What about you? Have you ever touched yourself?" He wasn't trying to embarrass her, she knew he wasn't – but she grew shy at the prospect of disclosing details of her… self-care routine. But his stare made her let go of some of her reservations. She managed to nod.
"Would you let me touch it?" Oh my god, she was panting now. His fingers were sitting patiently at the very tops of her thighs, inches from where she wanted them to be.
She bit her lip, unsure how to respond without sounding like a desperate virgin.
"It's a yes or a no." He said, louder now. Interesting. Malfoy liked explicit consent, it seemed.
"Yes," she breathed. Tomorrow, she would fully blame Ginny's punch.
"Good, Granger. I plan on it," he said, but his fingers started inching back up to tickle the sides of her hips, moving further, until he stopped them on her ribs.
"What about these, Granger? Has anyone ever touched these?" He stared down at her breasts, his gaze lingering on the buttons she'd purposefully left undone, smiling a little wider.
"No," she whispered back.
"Have you? Do you like to squeeze them when you touch yourself here?" He pressed his abdomen against her crotch. Hermione keened, vision blurring at the pleasure of the pressure.
"I need an answer, Granger." Her eyes widened, remembering that he'd asked if she had ever touched her own breasts for pleasure. She didn't want to tell him she'd never even though to do it before.
"No. Please. Please, touch them – me – I'm – I can't." She whined, desperate for relief. All she felt was tension. Everywhere.
Now it was his turn to groan. His thumbs shot forward to rub at her nipples through her cardigan.
"Please, let me look. I won't take it off, just a couple buttons," he begged, sounding equally desperate now as he kissed her hard.
She nodded furiously.
He immediately pulled back and moved his hands to the top of her jumper. She moved to place them back on her thighs, not feeling quite as shy upon hearing how bad he wanted it, too.
With a confidence she had never felt, not ever, she pulled back to stare directly into his eyes, which were blacker at this moment than grey. She smirked at him, surprising him a little as he smiled back.
His hands stayed on her thighs while she moved her own up to the buttons. She watched his features shifting from intrigued to downright shocked as she undid them all, letting him see her front – her breasts covered only by her thin blue bra.
"Holy fuck, Granger."
She gulped.
"Your move." She told him.
He groaned again, immediately moving to kiss her, his hands holding her jaw.
Then, as he started to nip at her bottom lip, his hands moved down again, finally running over her breasts. She moaned into his mouth.
"How are you – you fit perfectly in my hands, I can't fucking deal with it," he said against her. She leaned back an inch, her head falling back against the wall of the shed as he kept moving lower.
"I have to touch it, Granger, can I? Just like this, over your trousers?" He asked.
"Yes." And suddenly, all she felt was the best pressure exactly where she needed it. His left hand continued to massage her breast as his right thumb swiped at her clit, finally, over the denim.
She didn't know what to do with her own hands, she was so overwhelmed by how he was using his to make her feel. She didn't even care, she was so focused on how he was pressing on her, between her legs, rubbing small circles, then back and forth, exactly like she wanted him to.
And then he answered the question she hadn't spoken.
"You can put your hands wherever you want to, Granger." She immediately responded by grabbing his jaw to pull him back closer to her face so she could kiss him.
He worked her up as she started scratching at his scalp with her fingers, holding him tight against her as she moved – rocking her hips ever so slightly against the hand between her legs.
"Oh my god, more – press a little harder. Now, Malfoy." And he groaned, immediately doing as she asked.
He moved his other hand behind her, just above her lower back so that he could crush her against his chest as hard as he could while still maintaining his right-hand motions.
"Tell me how this feels, Granger. My hands on you."
"I'm – I can't." She hissed back in pleasure. He slowed his movements a bit.
"You can," he said in her ear. Interesting. Draco Malfoy really liked communicating for someone getting ready to push her right the hell off a cliff.
"Your hands. Feel so good. Didn't even think it was possible. How good," She panted as he started quickening his movements again, sucking at her neck, right below her ear – but not too hard. He wouldn't leave a mark.
"Just wait until you feel it without the clothes, until you feel my hands without layers between them and your clit, until you feel my fingers in you." he whispered. He swiped his tongue against the spot he'd been sucking on.
"And, Granger, if you ever let me fuck you, I swear to Salazar. You're never going to walk the same way. Ever. Again." He drawled.
"But you'll like it." He smirked against her neck.
She came.
Chapter 23: Twenty Three
Notes:
In which Draco learns more about the nature of the bond.
Chapter Text
Hermione panted, leaning her head on Draco Malfoy's shoulder. Suddenly feeling much more sober following the euphoric state he had pushed her to, she tried to catch her breath at the same time her brain began to catch up to where she was and who she was with.
She could not believe that she had just had an orgasm via Malfoy, while both of them kept all their clothes on.
Mostly.
But now he felt less like her partner in that act and more like Draco Malfoy, and her panic began to creep up. He felt more rigid against her, and she worried how he would react to her. She almost didn't want to lift her head off his shoulder for fear of having to actually look him in the face after what they'd done.
He ended up not leaving her with much of a choice as he began to back up a little – she wasn't sure how long they had been situated against one another post-climax.
"How was that, Granger?" As she finally looked up at him, he smirked down at her, seeming quite proud of himself. She couldn't totally blame him, but she also wasn't in the mood for him to embarrass her.
Her eyes narrowed, observing him and trying to gauge what version of Malfoy she was stuck with in a broom shed.
"Oh, fucking gods, Granger. Why are you being nasty? You can't tell me it was because I disappointed."
"I wasn't going to say that," he immediately smirked wider, causing her to find the words to continue, "but I don't fancy being made to feel stupid or like you're poking fun at me. Just because you've done that before doesn't mean you have the right to treat me like less than a person."
"First of all, I've never done that before," he stated easily, to her shock, "and second of all, what did I do to imply that I'm poking fun or think you're below me? All I asked was for your review." He rolled his eyes but remained standing between her legs.
"What do you mean, never done that before? Malfoy – I know that you've-" He cut her off.
"Granger, you don't know anything because you and I have not discussed my sexual history. And regardless of what you've heard, I've never made someone come without taking their pants off besides you. That I'm aware of, anyway." He added the last part with a bit of a flick of his head. As though he was considering how many people had just looked at him and flew over the proverbial edge. Prat.
"Oh." Hermione responded, feeling even more embarrassed.
"Why do you look so bloody upset? Honestly. It's insulting." Interesting. He didn't want her to feel badly about herself following their hook up.
"Because! Everything you're saying is making me feel even more inexperienced!" She replied, a little bit whiny again. Whatever. It wasn't like he hadn't heard her whine.
"Why is that bad? Have I not made it clear how deeply I… appreciate your inexperience, Granger? Seriously. Get over yourself. If that had lasted a little longer you wouldn't have been the only one to finish with your pants on."
She snapped her eyes up to his at that admission. Was he being reassuring?
"Oh, don't give me that look. You can't have already forgot our little conversations. It was five minutes ago, I know you have a functioning brain, Granger."
"What look?!"
"That look where you pretend to be all surprised that you have an effect on anyone around you. It's annoying. Faking obliviousness not only doesn't suit you, it's completely unbelievable. We all know you're no idiot." Why did all of his insults also feel kind of like compliments?
"I'm not faking it! I'm nervous and I don't feel very secure when I'm having these experiences with you of all people, Mister I shagged a bloody Veela," Hermione started, but he was quick to give her a confused look.
"A Veela? Are you out of your mind, Granger?"
"Don't play dumb – it doesn't suit you either, Malfoy. Fleur."
"That bitch who made a fool of herself at the tournament and sealed her lack of appeal with a marriage to a fucking Weasley? She's a Veela?!" Malfoy sounded genuinely confused.
"Well, a quarter." Hermione stated with her usual factual confidence.
"Interesting. Even less impressive that she wound up with a Weasley then." She rolled her eyes and pushed him back a bit, hopping down off the surface she'd been seated on and beginning to rebutton her jumper.
"Wait, you think I fucked her?" Malfoy sounded so amused she wanted to slap him.
"Stop teasing me."
"I'm not! I'm genuinely confused where you heard it! Granger, I assure you, I may have a longer list of names than most, but she isn't on there. I'd tell you." She tilted her head as she observed him. She didn't see what he would get out of lying about it.
"Great. A long list of names. More people to compare me and my lack of knowledge with. That makes me feel wonderful."
"Granger, now you're just bumming me out. You seem to genuinely not understand how badly everyone else would love to trade positions with me right now. Don't make me continue repeating myself, it's exhausting. And I'm recuperating." He yawned.
She rolled her eyes at him. He was so damn dramatic.
As she righted herself and prepared to figure out how they'd leave the shed, she responded to his statement.
"I'm sorry to bum you out, Malfoy. Forgive me if it's hard for me to believe that you actually find me appealing. It's not as if you've spent the entire time we've known each other reminding me how repulsive I am." She looked down at her feet as she finished. To her surprise, his finger reached to lift her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes.
"You're not wrong about that, I suppose. I was lying though, you're fucking hot as shit, and you make all the others, especially the bints you surround yourself with, look like literal forest creat-" She cut him off, despite how much she was blushing at his compliment.
"You don't need to be rude to make me feel better about myself. It dilutes the strength of the compliment. My friends are all beautiful." She stated matter-of-factly.
"Right, Granger – all simply lovely. You're just more so." He insisted, sounding sarcastic but also genuine.
Now that she felt less like he was going to make her feel stupid or laugh at her, she wasn't sure what to speak to him about.
"What is this, Malfoy?" She finally settled on asking.
"What is what?"
"What are we doing? We can snog and trade insults all day long. What does it mean? I feel… so confused."
She felt confused? He was the one who just got more satisfaction from making her come with her clothes on than he had from any of his last five fucks. Where he actually got to use his own dick. Draco decided not to mention that before responding.
"I don't know, Granger. I don't really buy this whole mandate thing – sure, I feel… strongly about you. Attracted to you," he continued, trying to gauge the best way to explain it without making himself sound like a complete arse or like a lovesick Hufflepuff.
"What do you mean, you don't buy it?" She was looking up at him with genuine curiosity. He loved her bloody facial expressions.
"I mean, I think it's a load of bollocks. I don't do love or soulmates or whatever the hell phrase they're using. And that's what they say this whole shit is. I don't buy it, even if I do acknowledge that we clearly have… some sort of connection," he replied, intentionally noncommittal.
"You're an idiot, Malfoy. Have you done any research on it? At all?" Who the fuck did she think he was, her?! Of course he didn't fucking research it.
"Granger, are you going to make a point here? You know I didn't waste my precious time looking into Ministry bullshit. I generally ignore all things having to do with the Ministry to the best of my ability."
She laughed, unloading on him as if she'd forgotten she was speaking about her own situation. Like she was simply explaining it to a neutral third party.
"It doesn't matter if you don't 'do' love, you dolt. The whole point of the match and the bond is that your magic chooses someone who is so compatible that you can't really… look beyond them. It's irrelevant what your past experiences are with other people, because they aren't the person who was suited to you such that your magical core literally sealed along with theirs. That's why I tried so hard to poke holes in the theory behind it before they made us take the potion. Because once you find your person, you can't undo it. I asked Shiptrill. She anticipates the bond will be so – strong – that most will probably never find themselves too interested in anyone else. Ever."
Draco paled. He hadn't considered any of that shit, not all at once anyway. He was already doing mental maneuvers trying to explain around it all.
"Come off it, Granger. You don't honestly believe that, do you? I mean you're a logic-driven witch, aren't you? Where is there any evidence for this?"
"Of course I'm logic-driven, Malfoy! That's why I spent weeks trying to prove that the whole thing was illogical. I don't like the lack of choice it leaves people with. But like I just said, I couldn't find a weak point. I mean think about it. They use our blood to create a profile. That means they evaluate everything about us, our magic, our intelligence, our genetic predispositions-" he knew she saw his eyes glaze over at the mention of 'genetic predispositions.' He hoped she understood that term meant nothing to Draco.
"I know some of this is muggle science, but trust me, it's sound. That's why it's so hard to find fault, Malfoy – they considered it from all angles. The logic behind it, while I don't particularly enjoy saying as much, is so sodding strong that it was able to support a process where a potion could tear open our magical cores, without hurting us, and close them by leading us towards someone who is so bloody suited to us that their own magic can strengthen and seal ours shut again. It's insane – the idea that you could be so compatible with a person – physically, magically, mentally, even in terms of your reproductive potential, that you could just look at them and suddenly never be attracted to anyone else ever again."
When she finished, they both stood a bit stunned at the implications of what it meant about the two of them. Draco was fucking baffled.
"I'm – unsure how to respond to that." He choked out.
"That's why I'm so confused, Malfoy! I don't know how to reconcile that information with this thing with us. It makes the whole experience that much more jarring." She was starting to get loud and excited, now. He was feeling almost no lingering effects from all the booze, and it was giving him a headache. The comedown, the information, the volume of her voice. It was all too bloody much.
"Granger, we – you should head back out to the pitch. Before someone realizes we're both absent." How charming. He couldn't think of anything else to say, though. He needed a fucking minute.
"Shoot! Right," she responded, surprisingly enthusiastically, as if it had just dawned on her that she'd spent the last 45 or odd minutes with him in a shed.
Granger walked towards the door, turning back towards him.
"Do I look okay?"
"How many times do I have to tell you that I think you-"
"No, I mean do I look like I've been screwing around in a broom shed? Am I disheveled?" She rolled her eyes as if he should be expected to read her bloody mind. He glanced over at her, taking in her appearance.
"No more than usual." She scowled at that. He grinned.
She was so fucking attractive he wanted to put his fist through the wall of the shed.
"You're fine, Granger. No evidence at all that I just had my hands-" She interrupted him. Again. She was so rude.
"That's enough, Malfoy. Could you please let down the wards?"
Right. He had forgotten the measures he had taken to maintain privacy. He waved his wand.
She turned and opened the shed door, peeking out to check if the coast was clear.
"Wait a few minutes before coming back, Malfoy." She said as she glanced back at him and then closed the door behind her.
He wasn't going back out there. He was going straight the fuck back to his room.
Before he vomited for the fortieth time that week.
Chapter 24: Twenty Four
Notes:
In which Hermione is forced to tell the truth.
This is a long one with lots of dialogue!! Enjoy 3
Chapter Text
Hermione Granger woke up with a hangover.
As she sat up in her bed on Saturday morning, she cracked her eyes open just enough to register that bright morning light was not her friend. Standing from bed and wrapping her robe securely around her waist, she moved gingerly around her room, retrieving the muggle pain relief pills from their drawer and sipping the glass of water beside her bed.
She sat back down on the edge of the bed, leaning forward to rest her forehead on her open palms. Hermione didn't feel nauseous or like her head was going to explode, but she definitely was feeling the effects of drinking more than one butterbeer for the first time in a long time.
She was also feeling the effects of an unplanned hookup in a broom shed with Draco Malfoy. She truly wondered what sort of hellish timeline she was living in these days.
Hermione had been lucky that everyone else seemed to have fallen victim to Ginny's punch as well. She was not alone in that. By the time she tiptoed back onto the quidditch pitch after her exit from the shed, everyone was either a drunk spectator or flying around in the air. The game had been nearly over when she took a seat next to Luna, who smiled happily in her direction, but no one seemed to have even noticed she'd been missing. Well, thank Godric for that. One less thing to worry about this morning.
She was generally overwhelmed by her interaction with Malfoy. She felt even more physically connected to him now, as was to be expected, but equally as distant in terms of establishing what they wanted from this whole thing. He had surprised Hermione by being… not absolutely awful. Draco Malfoy was definitely capable of keeping up with her, for the most part, and he was sort of… funny. If she wasn't so busy scowling at everything he said, she would probably be laughing at a lot of it. Interesting development.
Hermione had been incredibly intrigued by his complete misunderstanding of the link between them. He seemed to think that, despite their clear physical attraction, he would be immune to the impact of being compatible in all the other ways with her. Malfoy appeared to assume that because he had never been interested in love or romance in the past, the potion would have no real impact on him. She shouldn't have been surprised that he'd anticipated an exemption from experiencing the same things as every other witch or wizard who'd had to take the potion. Being a Malfoy wasn't going to stop that, but based on the entire rest of his life, she knew he'd likely expected it to.
Hermione finished another glass of water and checked the time. 8:19 AM. She'd managed to sleep for over seven hours – she was quite pleased with herself on that.
Last night, she'd been relieved when the pickup quidditch match had ended without any issues. She had no idea which team had won or even how to distinguish between the two. Hermione didn't feel like she'd missed out on that front – Ginny wasn't totally off-base. Hermione didn't love quidditch, especially not when she couldn't root for her house specifically.
By the time it had ended around 11 PM, everyone seemed tired and drunk. Hermione stayed back until 11:30 to help Ginny and Anthony clean up so that the evidence of their party was erased completely. Hopefully, there'd be no follow up from McGonagall about the athletic entertainment – Hermione was, again, certain the Headmistress would be much less impressed by the unity effort if she knew the loophole job Ginny and Anthony had done to organize a more active evening. Only time would tell.
As 9 AM rolled around, Hermione felt the worst of her hangover symptoms – that headache – fading and her modest excitement about a day in Hogsmeade becoming more apparent. Mainly, she was really looking forward to seeing Ron and Harry. However, the mood was tempered by the knowledge that this would serve as a moment of truth of sorts for Ginny and Harry, and an obstacle course for her in terms of the likely curiosity of others about her own potion-induced status.
The more her draw to Malfoy grew, the greater her concern became about how she would tell her friends. And how they would all react.
Not only did Hermione want to avoid conflict, she also wanted to avoid becoming an example for the Ministry and a major target of the Prophet based on who her match was. Again, she was pretty sure this type of relationship was exactly what the engineers of the mandate were hoping for when they began laying the groundwork for such a potion. Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy falling in love was probably the best outcome any of them could've imagined. Well – they hadn't fallen in love, and Hermione was pretty sure that she and Malfoy were at least on the same page about complete disinterest in becoming a shining example for the Office for Magical Compatibility to use to legitimize itself.
So, yeah, much to consider in terms of if and how she and Malfoy would ever explore this or share it with others. Lots and lots of potential complications.
Still, she remained pretty happy to be finally seeing her two best friends in a few hours. Hermione was pretty confident that Ginny and Harry's relationship wouldn't implode, as neither of them had accidentally bonded with anyone else during their time apart. And she really did miss them. She'd been busy, and also grateful they weren't two other people that could potentially catch Hermione and Malfoy in any compromising act, but they were also the two closest people to her. Besides Ginny, who was quickly filling the void left behind by Harry and Ron.
At 10:15, Hermione still laid on her bed, allowing herself a slow start to the morning. She'd already showered and dressed for the day – she could let herself lounge about and crack open a book. She was reading the Odyssey, a favorite she shared with her father. They used to read it in the evenings before bed when she was younger. Hermione felt that, even if she had put off traveling to Australia, she could stay close to both her parents through little acts such as this. She was grateful that she still enjoyed reading texts that reminded her of her dad rather than them making her feel terribly sad. She was hoping that she'd still be able to enjoy them if the worst-case scenario came to fruition down the line. Hermione tried not to even entertain what she would feel like if she was unable to ever retrieve their memories.
She had just finished the passage where Odysseus and his men passed between the Scylla and the whirlpool when she heard Ginny's closet door open and footsteps coming through their shared passage.
To Hermione's irritation, Ginny made a big to-do of knocking loudly on her door.
"I'm going to enter in five, four, three…" Ginny called.
Hermione waved her wand at the door, opening it wordlessly as she rolled her eyes. She supposed Ginny would never let her live down her humiliation at being caught in the act of self-pleasure. It was one bloody time!
"Ah, so she's pretending to read to hide her masturbation session, now. Very clever, Granger." Ginny smirked, also already dressed and ready for the day, as she came to sit at the foot of Hermione's bed.
"I'll not be entertaining your teasing with any sort of response." Hermione said prissily as she sat up against the pillows, setting her book down beside her and crossing her arms.
Ginny laughed lightly, but Hermione could tell she was distracted. She understood and leaned forward to grasp Ginny's hands with her own, giving a comforting squeeze.
"It's going to be fine, Ginny. The moment you and Harry see one another, you're going to feel the click, I'm sure of it." Hermione was trying to insist without being condescending – she hadn't actually had time to consider what they'd all do if Harry and Ginny didn't actually end up bonding. Yikes. They'd cross that bridge if and when they came to it.
"What do you mean, feel the click? Is that how it's supposed to feel?" Ginny looked interested, and Hermione's eyes widened when she realized what she'd said. She covered as best as she could.
"Er – well, that's how Luna described it. I assume it will feel like a click or something. Based on what she told me." Hermione tried to maintain a calm tone. Ginny's brows furrowed, not quite satisfied.
"That's not how she described it to me yesterday at-" Ginny's words were cut off by a knock at Hermione's door. She sprung up to answer it, putting distance between herself and a very interested Ginny Weasley. As she opened the door, she was surprised to see both Parvati and Padma in the hallway.
"Hello, you two!" Hermione greeted; a bit overly enthusiastic to welcome them into her room. Normally, she wasn't one to host a meeting in her space. It was personal to her and she didn't fancy others – besides Ginny, of course - entering.
Parvati and Padma smiled and walked into the room, much to Hermione's relief.
"We were just heading down to grab a bit of breakfast before walking to Hogsmeade, and Padma and I wanted to see if you two wanted to join us?" Parvati asked, smiling in their direction while trying not to look too interested in inspecting Hermione's room.
"What my sister means is that I came early to search her room for any other missing belongings of mine, but yes, we did want to see if you'd both like to join us." Padma added with humor in her voice.
"That sounds perfect, doesn't it, Ginny? We'll need to eat before heading out, I'm sure there will be plenty of drinks to go around when we get to the Three Broomsticks." Hermione was already grabbing her bag and jumper, ready to leave both her room and the conversation the Patil's had interrupted.
"Sure, that's fine – let me just grab my things," Ginny sighed, seeming less interested in the discussion she and Hermione had been having and back to her nervous state. Normally, Hermione would be disappointed to see her friend looking so solemn, but in that moment, she blinked in relief.
As Hermione, Ginny, the Patils and a small group of their friends made their way up the path to the front door of the Three Broomsticks, Ginny gripped Hermione's hand. Tightly. Like, so tight that in any other situation, Hermione would have yelped. If she didn't know exactly why Ginny was doing it.
She attempted to squeeze back, grimacing, in an effort to comfort Ginny. As she glanced at her friend's face, she saw the complete and utter strain. Hermione silently begged Godric and whoever else to let things go well.
They pushed open the heavy door and took a few steps into the establishment, Hermione absentmindedly appreciating the brightness inside. She loved natural light - later on, it would be very dim in there. The Three Broomsticks was always so dark and shadowy in the evening. She hated that.
With Hermione's hand in Ginny's vice-grip, they started glancing around in search of two particular young men.
"Oi, Ginny, Hermione!" Ron stood, calling out to them from a table tucked back towards the left corner of the pub. Hermione immediately smiled, and then let her joy fade a bit as she looked over at Harry's terrified face. He now also moved to stand. She could tell from the state of his messy hair that he had been pulling at it a bit more than usual. Ginny wasn't the only one with nerves.
Just as Hermione took in the state of her two best friends, she felt Ginny's grip on her hand loosen. Then, she let Hermione's hand go altogether as she started moving towards her brother and, more importantly, Harry.
Hermione moved to follow, releasing a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding the moment Ginny launched herself into Harry's arms. That seemed like a good sign.
Ron grimaced in discomfort as he glanced at Harry and Ginny's embrace, quickly turning and smiling sincerely as he pulled Hermione into a hug.
Despite their lack of romantic compatibility, Hermione had to admit – no one gave a more comforting hug than Ron Weasley. And, as previously stated, she wasn't much of a hugger. Ron and Harry were both exceptions to that rule.
"I missed you, Ronald!" She smiled as she moved back from their hug.
"You too, Hermione. I'm bloody stunned Harry and I are still living after a full month of existing as adults without your guidance." She laughed at that. She didn't need to voice the fact that she might have agreed.
The rest of the group she and Ginny had arrived with seemed to be chatting and lingering by the bar, giving the four of them space. Everyone knew this was a very sensitive moment, but Hermione and Ron were exempt from needing to stay far back like the rest of them.
As she and Ron sat back town at the table, she finally risked a full look at Harry and Ginny.
There were gods. As Harry sat back down, Ginny immediately seated herself in his lap as they began to kiss quite passionately. Ron cleared his throat. The amorous duo snapped out of their embrace to look at Ron and Hermione.
"Sorry," Harry coughed back in Ron's direction, finally smiling when he looked towards Hermione.
He and Ginny both stood so he could move to greet Hermione, and they shared a brief but firm hug. Hermione was hesitant to squeeze him any longer for fear of triggering some sort of reaction from Ginny, and Harry seemed immediately anxious to grab at his girlfriend's waist to reseat them.
"Thank fucking Merlin," Ginny said as she wrapped her arms back around Harry's neck.
Hermione finally let out a laugh.
"Is it safe for the rest of us to assume you two feel well matched?" Hermione asked.
"You were exactly right, Hermione, I totally felt like we were clicking into place. No offense, Harry. Not that we didn't click before, it's just – the new connection was noticeable." Harry rubbed Ginny's knee in response, nodding and seeming to understand exactly what she meant.
"I need a bloody pint," Ron announced as he stood, "do any of you lot need anything?"
Hermione moved to stand with him, looking back towards Harry and Ginny with a grin.
"I'll join you, Ronald. We should give these two a bit of space to catch up." Hermione winked knowingly at Ginny, who looked pretty relieved at the prospect of her brother's exit. To her credit, she wasn't alone - Harry looked pretty agreeable to some privacy as well.
"Right," Ron grumbled, not altogether grumpy but not quite pleased, as he began heading towards the rest of their schoolmates. Hermione was sure he'd actually be pretty happy to see Seamus, Dean and Neville, all of whom stood at the bar trying not to peek towards Ginny and Harry. Padma was doing the same – Parvati, on the other hand, was quite blatantly observing with a happy look on her face.
Just as Hermione pushed her chair in and turned to follow Ron, she heard Ginny's voice from behind her – immediately glancing back to look at her friend.
"You know Hermione, it really was exactly like a clicking. Not at all how Luna described it to me, not that I'm not pleased my experience was different from the one she told me to expect," Ginny said with a tone that Hermione recognized as skepticism. Oh shit.
Hermione tried not to let her eyes widen in response to the fact that Ginny was definitely not going to let this go, and also definitely onto her.
"We'll talk later on," Ginny finished, lifting one eyebrow before turning her attention back to Harry. Hermione spun back around while her stomach lurched.
Suddenly, she was standing beside Padma by the barstools, not really remembering the walk she'd taken to get there.
"Are you alright?" Padma whispered.
Hermione gulped and gave her a look that quite clearly communicated 'not now.' Padma quickly masked her shock and concern, looking down and lightly squeezing Hermione's elbow. This was going to be a long sodding Saturday.
After about 45 minutes of talking and laughing with Ron and the rest of her friends, Hermione noticed Harry and Ginny finally walking, hand in hand, in their direction.
Seamus, Dean and Ron had all finished two pints each, and loudly greeted Harry, who looked overjoyed to be joining them. Neville wasn't as rowdy as his friends, but he, too, was working on his second lager and laughing.
Ginny let go of Harry's hand as she smiled at the welcome he received. If Hermione wasn't so nervous about the likely interrogation she was about to undergo, she'd have been doing the same.
Just as she expected, Ginny's gaze quickly moved in her direction, her eyes narrowing at Hermione in suspicion. She leaned forward to pull at Hermione's arm.
"I'll be right back," she smiled sweetly in Parvati and Padma's direction, "just need a quick word with my best mate here. No offense." Hermione locked eyes with Padma, trying to somehow fire off a round of fireworks above her own head that spelled 'HELP!'
But before Hermione could conjure any banners or flares, she was being pulled by Ginny into a small room, outfitted with a few cozy chairs and a table, off the main room of the pub. If Hermione wasn't so terrified of Ginny, she might've wondered if this was the one Harry had snuck into during their third year when he'd unexpectedly learned of his Godfather's identity.
Ginny was then pushing Hermione into one of the chairs as she turned her back to wave her wand, silencing the room. She seemed to have elected not to shut the door, as it wasn't really necessary if there was a muffliato in place. Hermione was grateful – a closed door would signal secret chatter. She didn't want any other curious witches or wizards trying to join – just Ginny would be enough to handle.
Then Ginny sat on the low coffee table in front of the chair she'd manhandled Hermione into, zeroing in on her friend.
"Congratulations, Ginny – I told you everything would be-" Ginny raised her palm, indicating she didn't want to talk about herself at that moment. Shoot. Hermione had tried and failed to distract her with what she was sure was elation over her bond with Harry. It had been worth a shot.
"We're going to discuss how wonderful it is that Harry Potter is my soulmate, after all, at a later time."
Hermione nodded, looking at Ginny like a dog would their owner. That actually might've been the best way to describe the dynamic at that moment. Hermione was at Ginny's mercy.
"I'm not going to waste your time by explaining what Luna told me it felt like when she bonded with Theo Nott. It was, as to be expected, an inaccurate but uniquely Luna way to describe her experience. I don't doubt she believes her own summary," Ginny said, leaning forward a bit.
"What I am going to explain is how interesting it is that you were able to – what's the word I'm looking for – right, perfectly describe it to me, Hermione. I mean, if I hadn't been speechless at the sensation I just experienced when bonding with my boyfriend, I might've been able to summon your words to explain it. Brilliantly put, Hermione." Now Ginny leaned back a little, crossing her legs.
"Lucky guess?" Hermione tried. Ginny barked a laugh.
"Hermione, the only way you would have ever been able to explain it that way was if you'd already bloody felt it yourself. And now that I think about it, you've been much less eager to discuss the entire potion matter this week. Actually, when I really think back, I can pretty solidly say that you lost all interest in speculating on Tuesday." She gave Hermione a knowing look, which was returned with a cringe. Bugger. Ginny was sharp as a tack.
Hermione opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She was actually speechless. There was a first time for everything.
Ginny's expression softened, and she again leaned forward, this time grasping Hermione's hands.
"Hermione. You're my best friend," she said softly. "I think I know you well enough at this point to be sure when you're keeping something from me. I think I've actually known this whole week; I've just been too distracted by my own worries to notice."
"You're my best friend too, Ginny," Hermione was almost whispering, she was so paralyzed with anxiety.
"Just answer one question to start. And please, don't lie to me. Have you already figured out who your soulmate is?" Ginny pressed, looking more worried than angry.
There was quite literally no sense in denying it. Ginny already knew. Hermione saw no benefit in trying to lie and further spin her situation when it would only get her in more trouble down the line. She knew she wouldn't be able to hide it forever; she'd just hoped Ginny wouldn't have figured her out so soon.
Without noticing, Hermione tightened her grip on Ginny's hands. She managed to nod back an acknowledgment but couldn't bring herself to look Ginny in the eye.
"Hermione! That's fucking big news!" Ginny exclaimed, forcing Hermione to look up at her as she bounced once in both excitement and frustration.
Hermione pulled her hands from Ginny's, covering her face in horror. She knew now – and there was no shot she'd allow Hermione back out the door before all was revealed. Hermione's stomach lurched again.
"You're going to hate me, Ginny. You're going to think I'm completely awful." Hermione cried, knowing she sounded pathetic. But she couldn't help it. She was pathetic.
"Hermione. The way I understand it, you can only match once, and there aren't any groups of three allowed that I'm aware of. So, given that Harry is absolutely not your soulmate, there is quite literally no way I would ever hate you. Even if that were the case, I still wouldn't actually hate you. I'd just want you dead for an undetermined amount of time. But I would definitely get over it." Ginny insisted, now standing from the table and forcing Hermione to scoot over so she could fit onto the chair, as well.
She wrapped her arm around Hermione's shoulder, hugging her friend into her side, ignoring how tight of a squeeze it was with both of them on the chair.
Ginny pulled Hermione's hands from her face and gave her a supportive smile.
"Now, I'll admit it – I am quite peeved with you at the moment. But it's only because you've clearly been carrying this around and keeping it from me. Give me a little more credit than that, Granger." Ginny teased as Hermione turned slightly so they were finally looking one another in the eye.
"Ginny, you don't understand. It's not as if I wouldn't have immediately told you if I'd been bound to someone else. Anyone else. And it's who he is that has me so afraid to tell anyone."
"Well, as I've previously stated, it's not Harry. So, I will not be angry with you or judge you. Is he ugly?" Ginny asked. Hermione wished that was the problem.
"No. He's pretty much perfect." Hermione answered, cringing at how truthful she was being. She literally wanted to lick his face. Not necessary to mention right now, though.
"Well, then what's the problem, you bloody bint?!" Ginny replied, a bit louder and more excited than she had been a moment ago.
"The problem is that we all hate him. No matter how attractive he is, you're never going to like him. I probably won't either," Hermione said, lying at the end. She knew she was capable of liking him. She pretty much already did.
"Okay, now you're just being ridiculous. I don't hate anyone." Ginny said, sure of herself. Oh, Ginny. You're so wrong.
Ginny was greeted with silence as Hermione maintained an appearance of complete pain as they continued looking at one another.
"Okay, so you're going to make me guess. That's fine, Hermione. I have all day." Ginny stated confidently, sitting back and pulling her feet up onto the chair, getting nice and cozy and comfortable.
"So, if you're so sure I won't like him, can I assume he's not a Gryffindor?" Ginny asked cheerfully. Hermione shook her head no – he definitely was not.
"This is the quietest you've ever been, Hermione," Ginny was still curled up, but wore a look of concern, "Hufflepuff?"
Ginny dismissed the possibility of Hermione's soulmate being a Hufflepuff before Hermione could even shake her head no. There was simply not a Badger vile enough to warrant such secrecy. Maybe some thick blokes, but no one terrible.
"Ravenclaw?" Ginny asked, and Hermione could tell she expected that she would be right on this one. Hermione actually whined in pain as she shook her head no. Ginny sat up now, putting her feet back on the floor.
"Oh boy." Ginny said, finally understanding the implications. Only one house left.
"I know. Please, Ginny, please don't think differently of me. You have to promise you'll still be my friend after we leave this room." Hermione cried, placing her hands on either side of her face, unable to contain her anxiety. Ginny pulled her hands back down to clasp them in her own.
"You will still be the exact same Hermione to me. I will always be your friend. I promise," Ginny reassured her.
"So. A Slytherin, huh?" Ginny then asked, already knowing it was the only remaining possibility, but not really believing it yet.
Hermione nodded.
"Okay, and I assume you're also going to make me guess names now?" Hermione didn't respond, just stayed silent as Ginny rolled her eyes.
"Fuck, okay – fine. Blaise Zabini?" Hermione shook her head.
"Well, that's a relief, at least," Ginny replied, not knowing how happy she'd be if it were Blaise compared to who it actually was.
"Adrian Pucey?" Another shake of the head from Hermione.
"Fuck, well I know it isn't Theo Nott. Luna has obviously claimed him." Ginny stated, her wheels beginning to turn. Hermione braced herself, tired of the guessing.
At the same moment Hermione gained the strength to speak, Ginny, who had been chewing her lip and staring at a point behind Hermione's head in contemplation, seemed to come up with another name. Her eyes widened, snapping back towards Hermione, her hand moving to cover her mouth in the same moment that her friend finally spoke.
"It's him. It's Malfoy." She said, her voice shaking.
To Hermione's surprise, Ginny immediately pulled her into a tight, bone-crushing hug. That was better than a blood curdling scream, at least.
"Oh, gods, Hermione. I'm so fucking sorry." Ginny muttered into her hair. After a moment, she let go, moving back to look at Hermione with absolute pity splashed across her features.
"Are you okay, Hermione? I can't imagine how you've been feeling. This is awful. But I would never think that you were awful. I mean, we all know there's not a choice to be had. The bond just happens – not everyone will be lucky like me to get to have it with the person they already love."
"That's just the thing, Ginny – it is awful. But not because it's Draco Malfoy," Hermione began as Ginny flinched at his name, "it's awful because I think I might actually… have a bit of a crush on him." She waited for Ginny to respond to the news Hermione was the most afraid to admit.
Ginny's expression didn't shift at all. Then, Ginny shook her head, as if clearing a thought.
"I'm sorry, Hermione. I think I just hallucinated. What did you say?"
Hermione groaned.
"Ginny! You promised me, you promised you wouldn't hate me, that you'd still be my friend."
"I am!" Ginny exclaimed, surprised by Hermione's outburst.
"Then don't – just, fine. I know it's going to take a moment. But I said what I said, and I really don't need anyone to make me feel any worse about it. I know he and I are actually compatible. Physically, at least." Hermione finished, her mind wandering back to a certain broom shed.
She looked back at Ginny, who was now pinching the bridge above her nose. She looked a bit like Hermione when she did that.
Ginny looked back up at Hermione, moving to place her hand on Hermione's upper arm.
"Alright. I'm not going to judge you, but I now have more questions than I thought possible. And if I'm ever going to find a way to wrap my head around this, I'm going to need you to tell me the answers," Ginny said. Hermione nodded. It hadn't even been a full week and she was already sick of carrying the weight of this secret around, especially with Ginny.
"When did this happen?"
"Monday night. He agreed to cover for Pansy on our patrol because she was in the infirmary with that stomach flu."
"Fuck. Okay." Ginny swallowed, trying to process it all. Hermione understood exactly how she felt.
"It didn't happen instantly, not like with you and Harry. It was – well, we were nearly finished with rounds before he actually got close enough to me and looked me in the eye. That's when the-"
"The click. That's when you felt it." Ginny finished for her. Hermione nodded, no longer cringing at the memory. To her horror, she felt butterflies in her stomach at the thought of it. Gods.
"Yeah. And at first, he was totally awful, just absolutely Malfoy in his handling of it. Prat. We were arguing about it and I kind of blurted out that we had obviously just bonded, and he told me I was delusional," Hermione continued.
"That fucking arse!" Ginny shouted. "Did he honestly think you would want to be telling the truth? I mean, really! I'm going to murder him!" Ginny continued yelling.
"Please, Ginny. I know, but just let me… tell you." Ginny gave her a disbelieving look but nodded and let Hermione continue.
"That's why I locked myself in my room on Monday and didn't say goodnight. I was trying to come to terms with the fact that if Draco bloody Malfoy was my soulmate, I would be dying alone. But then the rest of the week was…" Hermione trailed off, thinking about how her feelings had shifted since that night.
"Hermione, I'm on the edge of my seat. Please stop going quiet." Ginny stated, bringing her back to the present.
"It's just – I was sure it was completely doomed at first. That when he started trying to provoke me the next day, he was simply meaning to torture me. I was sure he was going to try to just absolutely ruin my life."
"Are you telling me you think you were mistaken in assuming as much?" Ginny asked a bit incredulously.
"I am… sure. He might have thought that's what he was doing, but-" Hermione paused, an idea popping into her mind.
"Ginny," she continued, "do you feel it? A little… pull? A thing in your chest at being away from Harry – physically – right now?" The way Ginny's hand shot up to rub at her heart confirmed exactly what Hermione was hoping to explain.
"Oh my gods, is that what that is?" Ginny asked, clearly not having yet processed why she felt like her heartstrings were literally being tugged at.
Hermione nodded knowingly.
"Jesus Christ," Ginny said, borrowing one of Hermione's muggle favorites.
"I know," Hermione breathed, letting her head flop back as she looked at the yellowing ceiling.
"Well? Keep going." Ginny sounded almost eager for details. And not in the way of hating every moment of it. It was beginning to feel like gossiping. Gossiping with Ginny, Hermione could handle.
"It's that little thing. That discomfort you can feel when you're separated. That's how I know Pa-" Hermione stopped herself before she accidentally spilled Padma's private business. Absolutely not.
"That's how I know that I am right that he isn't just being a prat. I mean, he is, but that's not the only reason why he's acting this way. Invading my personal space. Inserting himself into my business. He can't help it." Hermione conceded, surprising even herself as she spoke the words with unexpected sureness.
"This is fucking mad, Hermione. Go on." Ginny also now reclined a bit, both of them staring up at the ceiling as Hermione continued.
"He's actually really intelligent, Ginny. And I hate to admit that. But that's how I started finally believing that maybe this made… some sort of sense. He challenges me and he can keep up with what I say. That's why he's in almost all of my classes." Ginny nodded, beginning to agree herself.
"And he's even gotten really pissed at me when I've suggested he was still a blood purist. I mean, really, who else do you know of that loved calling me a Mudblood like he did? I wouldn't be telling you this if I actually believed he still wanted me dead. I really am starting to trust it was a bit of an act back then, actually. Low-hanging fruit for him to grab onto when we were younger, because he is, without a doubt, a little bitch," Hermione acknowledged, and smiled as she heard Ginny laugh at that.
"And I don't even say that with malice. But it's truly just in Malfoy's nature to pick on people and be condescending. He's genuinely the world's greatest prat, but not to spite everyone. It's who he is. He's actually… kind of funny."
"Okay, now you're going a little too far. Get back on track, Hermione." Ginny replied, and Hermione laughed as she saw Ginny looking at her and then glancing back up at the ceiling out of the corner of her eye.
"I mean it, though. And I know that it's probably the bond that's forcing me to see his behavior in a new light. But I do. I see the way he acts a little differently than I used to. I mean, don't get me wrong, I have no idea what's going to happen. I certainly don't think I'll be running down the aisle to jump into his loving arms anytime soon. But… there is something. And I have never been more attracted to someone. Ever." Now she and Ginny were looking at each other, Ginny cringing.
"That's disgusting, Hermione."
"It's not. He's not. He's-"
"A whore?" Ginny tried. Hermione rolled her eyes.
"I don't know. We've not discussed his history. Except for him stating, very explicitly I might add, that he absolutely did not shag Fleur before the end of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. He was actually offended by the assumption. It was bizarre."
"Well, no offense, but I will sleep slightly better at night knowing Bill isn't married to someone touched by Malfoy."
"Thanks, Ginny." Hermione deadpanned.
"I said no offense!" Ginny replied insistently.
"Whatever. Anyways, back to what I was saying. I don't know what the actual truth is when it comes to the rumors of his… prowess. All I know is what I've experienced myself. And he's totally different from what I expected."
"I'm going to try very hard not to vomit while you expand on what you mean by that, Hermione." Ginny declared.
"I'm not going to go too far into it. He's just… considerate. He reassures me when I doubt myself. It's odd, like sometimes, I'll not have even said it, and he's responding to me. Like he can read my mind and just know what I'm worrying about. And every time we're in close proximity, I can feel actual electricity." Ginny nodded at that, seeming to know what Hermione was trying to describe. Probably because she had just been snogging Harry in a corner for almost an hour herself. And they, to their credit, were never keen on public displays of affection prior to today.
"Ginny, I swear to Merlin, every time he touches me, it's like he has a sodding cheat sheet that he's following. He knows exactly how to handle me."
"Wait a minute, where the hell were the two of you during the match last night? I did notice you disappeared, but honestly, I never once considered you'd be off having a shag, Hermione."
"Ginny Weasley! I wasn't!" Hermione cried; Ginny chuckled.
"Well, I was… with him, though. I don't want to keep anything from you from this point on. Seriously." Hermione said.
Ginny looked scandalized.
"Where – what were you doing?" She looked genuinely interested, always one to try to encourage Hermione to be a bit freer with her sexual endeavors. Then she seemed to remember it was Malfoy they were talking about, and she seemed a little less enthusiastic. That stung a bit, but Hermione was just grateful Ginny hadn't stormed out. She was glad her friend actually wanted to know what was going on in her life.
"I mean, Ginny. I don't know if this is too much information. But please, just let me tell you everything." Hermione begged, and Ginny quickly nodded.
Hermione then detailed, very specifically, how Malfoy had made her unravel with just his fingers last night. While both of them remained – for the most part, fully clothed. Even Ginny looked a little impressed.
"I may not like him, Hermione, but I am pretty much thrilled that you're finally letting someone into your knickers." Ginny said, not joking at all.
"He was not… in them, Ginny. I told you, it was over my trousers." Hermione clarified.
"Right," Ginny said nodding thoughtfully, "that does intrigue me. I'm honestly surprised at how generous he seems." Hermione laughed. She didn't disagree.
"So, what now though, Hermione? Are you two – I mean, what do you feel?" Ginny asked, getting to the core of the thing.
"I have no idea, Ginny. That's why I'm still so confused. I mean, physically, there's not even a question. I know we fit together perfectly. I know I don't have a lot by way of comparison, but the look on your face told me everything I'm feeling is real. He… the way he makes me feel is not just average. It's not the way I'd feel if he were any random wizard on the street."
"No, he certainly seems… worthy in that sense." Ginny said slowly.
"But last night… before I left, we were talking, and I – well, I actually haven't even had much time to unpack it. But from what he said, he definitely didn't start off taking the whole potion seriously. I could see it on his face when I was leaving. I scared the actual shit out of him." Hermione said, nearly recoiling at the memory of his shock.
"What do you mean?" Ginny questioned.
"I know it sounds funny. It sounds pretty much exactly like what you'd expect of Malfoy. But he's definitely never actually dated anyone, and it seems like he thinks it's because he's immune to normal human feelings like wanting to fall in love with someone or be romantic." Hermione explained, feeling a bit frustrated at the thought. Really, who did he think he was?
Ginny barked out a laugh.
"I don't know, Hermione. I mean, yes – that definitely does sound like him. But I'll also say I never thought of him as being particularly attentive or capable of affection before now, either." Ginny admitted, and Hermione had to agree.
"I know, but it's no different than what you're feeling for Harry right now. I mean, seriously, try telling me your thoughts about your future together aren't… completely different now."
Ginny seemed to take a moment to mull that over, smiling a bit to herself as she thought about her boyfriend.
Hermione snapped her fingers in front of Ginny's face, trying to refocus the conversation. Ginny jumped.
"Uh, yeah. I'm definitely working with a lot more passion and excitement and… imagination than I was before. And not because I didn't love him before. I just feel so much closer to him." Ginny explained, and Hermione almost wished she could understand that.
"I'm sure. I mean, I've spent a good chunk of time since connecting with Malfoy trying to deny it or run from it. I don't get to enjoy it the same way you do," Hermione explained, and Ginny looked at her with pity again.
"But… I could see how, if we weren't so – at odds – with one another all the time, I could see how it would be completely overwhelming. In a good way. To feel so sure and also excited about building a future." Hermione said, frowning a little. Even if everyone reacted like Ginny, she had no idea if Malfoy would ever be willing to actually explore some sort of… relationship. With her.
"I'm sorry, Hermione. And not because I think he's the worst. Just because I can't imagine how difficult it must be to feel… what I'm feeling for Harry right now… about someone who you're so diametrically opposite of." Ginny said. Then she kept on.
"I'm not going to lie to you. It's going to take me some time. I mean, we've always hated Malfoy. And now, especially if you're – uh, involved – I'll need time to feel like he can be trusted. If he starts being horrible to you, I will kill him. I will literally strangle him with my own hands." Hermione rolled her eyes, but she also knew Ginny meant it. And she was lucky to have a friend that cared for her as much as she knew Ginny did.
"Godric, Hermione, how are we going to tell the others?" Ginny said, horror in her tone and on her face. Hermione had to laugh at that, because she felt exactly the same, and it made her feel safer at the prospect of Ginny helping to shoulder the weight of it with her.
Suddenly, Hermione was overwhelmed with emotion. She felt the tears coming before she could even try to stop them. She let out a sob, and Ginny immediately turned, pulling her friend into another hug.
"Oh, please, I shouldn't have said that, I'm sorry Hermione. It's going to be okay. We'll figure it out." Ginny soothed. Hermione laughed through her crying and pulled back to look at the girl across from her.
"I'm not crying because of that, Ginny," she cried and spoke at the same time, "I'm crying because I'm so bloody relieved to have you. I thought, for sure, this was doomed purely because no one would be able to accept me. Or… how I feel. About Malfoy." Ginny looked back at her knowingly.
"I'm sorry that you've been having to carry that, Hermione. I could've told you that you were being idiotic much sooner if you'd come to me immediately, as you should have. But I understand why you didn't." This time, Hermione was the one to hug Ginny first.
After another minute and after Hermione composed herself, they both stood up. Ginny helped her with a couple of glamour charms to hide any evidence that she'd been crying.
"Ready to go back out there?" Ginny asked.
"As I'll ever be," Hermione laughed back.
Chapter 25: Twenty Five
Notes:
In which worlds collide and Draco and Hermione have a talk in the Three Broomsticks.
Chapter Text
Draco had somehow been roped into going to Hogsmeade with the rest of the Slytherins this lovely Saturday afternoon. And by that, he meant that for some reason, Pansy was interested in attending a gathering at the Three Broomsticks when Theo suggested it. He assumed Loony would be there, which explained why Theo wanted to go. But Pansy? Why would she want to attend?
He trailed behind them a bit as they made their way into the village, thinking about everything Granger had said the night before. He'd spent most of the last 12 hours agonizing over whether or not she was right about it all. And about him.
He was even more bloody confused than ever. The entire reason Draco wasn't fazed by the potion, or even his intense attraction to Granger, was because he didn't think he was capable of feeling all the things the process would allegedly facilitate. He didn't think of himself as being capable of some mushy undying love bullshit. Romantic gestures had never interested him. He had to admit, he hadn't really looked into it… but he knew for sure that Granger had. Draco had decided somewhere between two and three in the morning that, despite the fact that Granger might be out of her mind, she wouldn't lie to him about the contents of her precious research.
So, when she was all confident and swotty in her explanation the night before, he admitted that it was likely because she'd spent enough time learning about the process. And while Draco still hated the idea of falling in love with anyone, he had to admit that Granger in particular made him feel things.
New, horrifying things.
Like a few days ago for example. He caught himself wondering what her favorite class was. Draco had never given a shit about anyone's interests in his entire life. And yet he found he was saying that a lot about things pertaining to Granger. He hadn't done or thought any of this stupid shit prior to her storming onto the scene. And that was what scared Draco Malfoy out of his wits. He couldn't anticipate what she might say or do, and worse, he couldn't prepare himself for how any of it might make him feel. She had a way of impressing and interesting him and he wanted to listen to her talk all fucking day. Even last night, when she was explaining how it didn't matter that he'd never felt any affection for anyone else prior to taking the potion, he was enthralled. Mortified and shocked by her words, but still. Listening to her talk was bloody fascinating.
Never mind how badly he wanted to shag her. Never mind how he had spent nearly every waking moment thinking of ways to please her enough that she'd someday, maybe, let him have sex with her. Even though she'd never let anyone else get close. In most cases, he'd find confidence in the fact that he was Draco Malfoy. With her, he knew it only made her less inclined to trust him. To give into his charm. Although, considering last night, maybe he wouldn't have to beg her to fuck. Maybe she would start to want it as badly as he did.
The most fucked up part of all of it was that despite how badly he wanted to fuck her for days on end, he really wanted her to let him because she actually felt the same. He wanted Hermione Granger to want to shag him right back. And despite her admitted inexperience, she responded and acted exactly how he wanted her to. Like no other girl he'd been with ever had.
It wasn't just him telling her exactly what to do. It was how she did things, how she insisted on unbuttoning her own shirt, that made him want to scream into a pillow so she couldn't hear proof of how insane she drove him. Draco had been thinking often of Blaise's words, and how right he'd been. Hermione Granger was second to none in terms of witches. Everything about her invited him in, made him obsessive, made him want even more. And it scared the living shit out of him. Because if this was how he felt after a week, after doing nothing more than fondling her with their clothes on, what the hell was going to happen when it went further? Would he even be able to let her leave a fucking bedroom again?
"Draco, what in Salazar's name has you making that fucking face?" Adrian asked as he looked back towards Draco. They were walking up the path towards the entrance of the musty, shitty pub. Again, he'd need to have a word with Pansy regarding why on earth she'd wanted to come here. At least it was clear at this point that Theo was hopeless. Lost to the snakes. But Pansy?
And why had he agreed to let her drag him along? Oh, that's right. Because she'd told him 'everyone' would be there, and that might mean Granger. Naturally, he had no other fucking option than to go. Because maybe she'd fucking look at him or something. He was that obsessed with her at this point – so obsessed that he would waste a Saturday in stupid Hogsmeade, just on the off chance he'd get to look at her – instead of lounging about, ordering people around, and drinking his Ogden's. It was a fucking travesty.
And so, as he walked into the Three Broomsticks, he let his eyes adjust to the awful atmosphere and then began scanning the room and crowd for a particularly bushy-headed little witch.
To his absolute fucking disgust, the first pair of eyes he met were the Weasel's. Not the She Weasel. The actual Weasel, who Draco had been so blessed not to have to deal with the entire year. And that meant Potty couldn't be far behind.
As Draco felt his face shift naturally into a sneer in Ron Weasley's direction, he realized quickly that while everyone else he couldn't stand was in the immediate vicinity, Granger was nowhere to be found. God, he wanted to retch. Potter, all the fucking dip shit male Gryffindors, the Patils, Loony, Goldstein… all on the list.
Where the fuck was Granger? And where was her little friend Weaslette? To the surprise of absolutely no one, Luna Lovegood instantly drifted towards Draco and the group he'd entered with. Weasel was staring in their direction, but he wasn't giving Draco his usual death glare. He was focused on whoever was standing to Draco's left – but the Malfoy heir wasn't particularly interested to see which of his friends had the Weasel's attention. He was still sweeping the room for a Granger.
"Hello there, you all." Loony said all nicely and dumbly as she literally seemed to float before them. Then she turned specifically to Theo, who stood a bit ahead of the rest of them, to greet him. Of course, fucking headcase she was, Lovegood leaned in. To kiss Nott right on the mouth.
The fuck? Nott was leaning right back towards her! Today was a bloody cold day in fucking hell!
"Hello, Luna." Theo responded happily. It was then he felt Pansy pinch his left upper arm particularly harshly, which he flinched away from.
"Be fucking nice, Draco. People are hoping to meet their potion matches today. Maybe you should fucking try it, you might not be so miserable!" Pansy hissed in his ear as he rolled his eyes. She truly needed to be brought up to speed. Unfortunately, Draco had no interest in allowing such a briefing to take place. Especially not in their current company.
"Please, all of you, join us over here by the bar. Ron and Harry have come to visit for the afternoon. Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley have actually just sealed their bond! Oh, I do wish I'd been here in time to see it." Loony explained as she took Theo's hand and began to try to walk them over in the direction of the larger group.
It figured that those two dolts had ended up being soulmates. Two of the worst people Draco had ever had the displeasure of meeting. But that meant the She Weasel was here somewhere. And Granger probably was too. Goody.
Draco put on his best rich bastard face as he allowed Pansy to push him forward, following behind Theo. He could hear Blaise telling Adrian that she was out of her fucking mind – and he wasn't totally sure if he was referring to Pansy or the Space Cadet. Either way. Right you are, mate.
As they reached the large group of students, Draco noticed Potter, looking like even more of a messy headed fuck than usual. Draco nodded at him stiffly, and to his genuine fucking surprise, Potter nodded back. They weren't smiling at each other, but he wasn't cursing Draco within an inch of his sodding life, either. That was decent. Granger would be happy about that.
Instead of immediately chastising himself for thinking of her feelings, he grew ever-more resigned to the fact that those thoughts would likely not cease. He wasn't a sadist, and he wasn't going to torture himself by trying not to think about her or be close to her. He fucking liked the way it felt, and even if he wanted to, he didn't know if it was actually possible to resist their connection. It certainly hurt the piece of his chest that seemed to ache for her closeness even more when he was focused on trying to hate her. It grew pretty bloody uncomfortable when he attempted to rationalize away his cravings for her presence. Like the bond itself rejected his resistance.
Based on what Granger had said last night, he thought maybe that was exactly what was happening. It went against nature to try to deprive yourself of the very person whose own magic resealed your bloody core. Like she was a fucking piece of him now or something.
God, the inside of his head was a nauseating place to be.
But then, before he could even order himself the glass of firewhiskey he so desperately needed, Draco's heart nearly shot out of his chest.
The She Weasel was walking out of a little room off the bar area, and from behind her, a very flustered-looking Hermione Granger appeared.
Hermione stared at the back of Ginny's head as they walked back out into the main room. She couldn't believe how lucky she was to have such an understanding friend. If the roles had been reversed, Hermione had no idea how she might have responded. Despite a few digs and comments, Ginny had taken the whole thing relatively well.
Maybe the feeling of the bond in her own body helped Ginny to understand how hopeless Hermione was to resist him. Prat though he was, Draco Malfoy was apparently perfectly suited to her. Perhaps more perfectly than she cared to admit. She smiled in her friend's direction, following her towards Harry, who she was sure Ginny was focused on returning to. Hermione had barely even had a moment to speak with Harry. She couldn't wait to hear from he and Ron about how training had been going.
However, Hermione's plans for easy chatter with her two best male friends were blown immediately to bits when she felt his presence before actually seeing him.
She could feel that Draco Malfoy was inside the pub before she'd even thought to check for any blonde-haired arseholes. With large brains and impressive hand-eye coordination. And handsome faces.
She truly was hopeless.
Hermione's head snapped up to look for him, surprised when she found him standing right near Harry. He seemed uncomfortable, but when she met his eyes, she could tell he was pleased to see her. Oh, Godric, the butterflies.
She then risked a glance away from him, to the dismay of the place inside her chest, and she took inventory of his companions. It seemed he had arrived along with Pansy, Theo, Blaise and Adrian. Jesus Christ. There might actually be a third wizarding war in this very room.
"Hermione?" Harry asked from her left, sounding concerned. She tried to quickly hide whatever emotion was evident on her face. Clearly, it was giving away how flustered she was. She smiled at him happily, even though all she really wanted to do was return to staring at Malfoy.
"Granger!" Hermione heard from behind her, instantly recognizing Pansy's voice. She turned.
"Pansy – I didn't expect to see you all here. How are you feeling?" She asked.
"As I told you last night, I'm good as new. Wondering a bit about your health now, though. I'm shocked to hear you ask the same question twice," Pansy said pleasantly, while sounding slightly concerned. Bugger. Hermione couldn't focus on anything else when he was this close to her.
"Right – forgot. I was a bit intoxicated last night when I spoke with you," she explained, "and what I meant to say was that I'm glad you're here." Hermione saw Harry's jaw drop out of the corner of her eye.
Pansy moved her head to look at him, her vision previously blocked by Hermione's head. Hermione immediately shifted backwards so that she wasn't standing in the way of whatever interaction they were about to have.
"Hello, Potty," Pansy said easily, "where's your butt buddy?" Harry, to Hermione's entertainment, glanced at Ginny with confusion on his futures. Pansy outright laughed at that.
"Heard you two are soulmates after all. How ever will you break the news to Weasley?" Blaise said from behind Pansy, and Hermione immediately felt that he might be finishing his friend's taunt for her. Pansy rolled her eyes – Zabini had definitely beat her to the punchline.
"Fuck. Off." Ginny spat at Blaise, moving even closer to Harry, who by now looked like he was about an inch from an all-out stroke.
"What the fuck is going on?" He asked incredulously.
"Haven't heard, Potter? We're all the best of friends now. All it took was one night on the quidditch pitch with your handler's special punch." Malfoy drawled, strutting slowly to fully join the small circle as the chatter continued amongst their surrounding friends.
Hermione's heart leapt in her chest. Please, Malfoy. Do not make her friend punch you in the face. She was going to have a really hard time remaining neutral if that happened.
"What?" Harry asked, still too confused to sound pissed off. Ginny rolled her eyes.
"What the Ferret meant to say was that we've all been… spending more time near one another," Ginny glanced quickly at Hermione before continuing. Hermione wondered if that meant Ginny was going to try to play nice and keep the peace so that she wouldn't start crying again.
"McGonagall's suggestion. A pickup quidditch match last night for all the seventh and eighth years. And I, your girlfriend," Ginny said with emphasis on the label and a sneer in Malfoy's direction, "made punch for the group. Because I'm… trying." She finished.
Hermione was impressed, and she definitely caught the double meaning in Ginny's words. She knew her friend really was going to try.
"Oh, don't be modest, Red. You still immediately bit our heads off when we arrived. Your baby boy would've been quite proud." Blaise teased, although to Hermione's surprise, without malice. She briefly thought that maybe Zabini and Ginny had similar personalities. Despite Ginny's obvious superiority of course.
"That's… good." Harry brilliantly replied, as Ginny laughed at his overwhelmed state. Hermione cracked a smile, too.
The smile was immediately wiped from her face when Malfoy addressed her directly.
"Granger, could I have a word?" He asked stiffly. Now it was Pansy's turn to join Harry in being completely stunned. Blaise and Ginny looked pretty unmoved. Go figure.
"Why the hell would you need to talk to her?" Oh, good. Ronald.
"There he is!" Blaise announced as Ron moved to stand next to Harry, sort of blocking the path between Draco and Hermione, who'd been standing across from one another in the small circle.
"The fuck is that supposed to mean, Zabini?" Ron growled as Hermione rolled her eyes. Godric, this was going to be a complete disaster. And Harry and Ron still had no idea about the bond.
"Oh, nothing, Weasel. Blaise and Pansy had just been wondering if Potty here had had the chance to tell you he's mated with your sister. I'm sure it's very hard." Malfoy replied, playful and nasty as ever. This was not going to help Hermione's case.
"Shut your fucking mouth, Malfoy." Ron ground out. Hermione could tell from the growing redness on the back of his neck that he was getting incredibly close to throwing a punch. She immediately reached forward to touch his right arm.
"It's fine, Ronald. He's only Malfoy. I'll be right back." She moved to squeeze around Ron, praying she'd be able to get past him without being grabbed. Both because she didn't want to cause a scene, and because she wanted to talk to Malfoy. For whatever reason.
Malfoy, on the other hand, looked positively elated at her words and movement toward him. He then shifted his grin in Ron's direction, where it morphed into a sneer, as he was nothing if not charming and warm. She shot him a glare as Malfoy registered how unimpressed she seemed, turning on his heel in the direction of the table Harry and Ginny had been seated at. Wonderful. It was like a designated Soulmate Sitting Area.
As she followed him, a bit shocked that she was taking such a risk, Hermione couldn't help but glance down at his arse. Ugh, life was so unfair.
She heard Ron shouting at Harry.
"What the fuck is he doing to Hermione? Ginny, is this bloody normal now?" Ron said, as Harry coughed on the sip he'd likely taken from his mug in an effort to calm his own reaction.
"What is going on, Gin?" She heard Harry ask. She tried not to panic as she moved further away, almost totally out of earshot and still totally focused on Malfoy's bum.
By the time she made it to the table they were headed for, he'd turned quickly, catching her leer.
"See something you like, Granger?" Malfoy said with a smirk.
"Yes," Hermione blurted, unable to focus between his arse, her friends and the impact of his proximity.
He laughed in triumph and surprise.
"I didn't mean to say that!" She immediately snapped as she pulled out her chair and sat down, her back to the crowd behind her.
"Clearly," Malfoy replied, laughter still in his voice as he slowly pulled out his own chair and sat. He even made sitting down in a rickety old bar chair look graceful.
"Stop teasing me. I'm overwhelmed by the events of the day and your arrival hasn't helped," Hermione groaned, unsure when she'd decided she felt safe to tell Malfoy about her feelings.
"Poor little Granger. Would you like me to do something to help give you some relief?" He questioned, his eyes darkening as they locked with hers.
She knew all the color had drained from her face. Or maybe she was beet red.
"Did you have something you actually needed to speak with me about, Malfoy?" She responded, her voice a bit high-pitched at his offer. He smiled knowingly. Malfoy could tell that he was making her nervous, but he probably also knew how much she wished she could take him up on his offer.
He leaned back, smirking even more naughtily. That was the word for him. Naughty. He was a naughty prat.
"Not really. I just wanted to spend a bit of quality time with my soulmate. Didn't think you'd want me to say it in front of your band of idiots."
"Please don't insult them, Malfoy. I have no idea what you want with me, but if you're just going to fuck off in the end, please don't torture me by riling up my friends."
"What I want with you? Granger, you sound as if you think I have a better idea of what all of this means than you do. I think my lack of information last night clarified it. I'm in no man lands." He said, glancing over her shoulder.
"No man's land," she corrected, "and yes – what you want with me. I understand what our connection is supposed to mean, but you're the one who seems to think he's exempt. And you seem to have made a choice not to take it seriously." Hermione said somewhat pathetically, hoping her disappointment at the prospect of him deserting her in this wasn't completely obvious.
Gods, Granger was cute when she was nervous. Maybe even cuter than when she was confident as shit.
"Let me get this straight. You think I'm going to abandon whatever the fuck this is because of what I said last night?" He asked, almost laughing at the ridiculousness of it. He hadn't even gotten his dick tugged, yet!
"I… don't know." Grangers eyes were all big and scared. He leaned in, speaking lowly so no one could hear – even though no one would've been able to hear over the fucking noise in the dump anyways.
"Fine, Granger. I'll spell out my preference," she nodded as he glanced down at her lips before licking his own and meeting her eyes again, "I've… carefully considered all you said last night. I'll admit I hadn't really been considering the seriousness of the thing before. But I can still, as you so generously pointed out, feel everything."
Her eyes grew somehow wider.
"It remains to be seen if I am capable of love and all the stupid shit that comes along with it. But despite my annoyance at your endless quest for knowledge, I'll admit, it's difficult to argue with you and your bloody research. We're obviously well-suited." Draco said matter-of-factly, despite the anxiety in his own abdomen at the idea that he was about to explain exactly what he wanted with her. He leaned even further across the table, trying not to focus on just how badly he wanted to be closer to her.
"I don't really give a fuck, though. Not at this point. It's not as if either of us had a choice. And now here we are, sitting in a piece of shit pub while the wonder dolts try to death glare a hole through my fucking head. So sad they'll never be able to eradicate their enemies simply by pouting at us," he laughed as he lifted his eyebrows, meeting Potty's eyes over Granger's shoulder. Pity. The tosser looked on the verge of a tantrum, and Draco was too far away to be able to hear it.
"If you're trying to provoke them, please stop it, Draco," she pleaded, stunning him to attention at the use of his first name. He wanted to save the sound of her calling him Draco and listen to it repeatedly in the comfort of his own room. Fuck, he was pathetic. She continued.
"I'd quite like to hear the rest of your speech, but they will come over to hit you if you keep it up." Whatever you say, witch. Anything to keep the idiots from interrupting. He focused on her completely, deciding he would never look at either one of them again. Until he and Granger finished their conversation.
"Your endless curiosity is borderline fucking charming, Granger. Not to worry. I understand your need to hear the rest of what I have to say. My thoughts are quite important." She rolled her eyes but gestured for him to continue. He liked when she was all playful.
"So, as I was saying. We obviously are – in each other. Resealed one another's holes. Bonded, whatever you want to call it," he started, trying not to laugh at the possible innuendos that he couldn't risk expanding upon for fear of driving Granger back in the direction of her stupid friends. She was cringing at his words already. No need to torture her.
"I've come to terms with it, whatever it is. And I'm not nearly as noble as Potter or whoever the fuck else. I'm not going to force myself not to feel it just because it's the admirable thing to do."
"The admirable thing to do?" Granger asked.
"Yeah, Granger. Or should I call you Hermione," he taunted as she narrowed her eyes, "it'd be admirable for me to fuck off. Leave the little savior of elves, muggleborns, and fucking idiots alone so as not to ruin your reputation. Anyone with half a brain knows you're the one drawing the shit end of the broom. I'm a marked former Death Eater." He said, pretty much immune to shuddering at the words now. Based on Granger's reaction, she wasn't quite there yet.
"That's beside the point, though. I'm Draco Malfoy. I'll have my family's name restored to its former glory and status atop society within a decade, with or without a war heroine interested in me sexually or otherwise."
"Get to the point." She said harshly. Ouch. Impatient Granger.
"What I mean to say is that I literally don't give a fuck, Granger. I'm not going to be the hero and try to save you by keeping away from you. Honestly, with this potion, I'm not sure it's even possible. But I'll not be trying to explore that. I have no idea where this will go, but I do know that I've undergone quite the personality transplant. In that I quite… enjoy listening to you fucking speak and agonize and analyze. It appeals to me. And I'm uninterested in continuing trying to figure out why that is. According to you, it's because we're soulmates."
Granger looked… like she was melting at his words. He took it as a sign to continue.
"I suppose it's up to you now, Granger. I can't make you be on the same page as me. I'll just add that while I somehow now enjoy conversing with you, I'd also quite like to fuck the shit out of you, preferably sooner rather than later. But I won't force the issue." Draco finished, his nerves out of control. He looked her dead in the eye and cracked his neck. Granger jumped.
"You're so… vile," his face must have fallen at her words, because she rushed to continue.
"Vulgar – you're vulgar." She revised, and Draco's ego perked back up a bit. He was fine with her being scandalized by his words, but he didn't want her to be genuinely disgusted.
"Your turn to get to the point, Granger. I haven't got all day." He said, completely lying. He absolutely had all day.
She stared back at him, seeming to be choosing the words she'd use carefully. He loved how hard she thought about everything. But, actually, right now he'd rather like for her to speak her mind. No more fucking thinking.
"I think I'm agreeable. To your suggestion." She said, a little mousey and nervous but still definitely Granger-brand swotty.
"Which part? If you're agreeable to the shag, I'll get us a room." Draco knew that wasn't what she meant, but he couldn't resist the chance to make her get all outraged, and he also really needed her to be more specific. For some reason, he wanted bloody reassurance now. How humiliating.
"I don't want to keep pretending I don't feel how I feel. I want to see where this whole thing can go. If we aren't at each other's throats." She finished, to his great relief.
"Don't be daft, Granger. We'll always be at each other's throats, regardless of whether we're a perfect match," Draco finished, purposely using dramatic words to describe their situation, but unexpectedly a bit put off at the possible accuracy.
"Fine!" Granger exclaimed, crossing her arms. So sassy.
"Would you like to announce it now? Give the war heroes the good news together?" Draco asked, pushing her further than he should have as he scooted his chair back in anticipation of the end of the discussion.
"Shut the hell up, Malfoy. We'll need to set aside some time tomorrow to discuss my terms. Which include some discretion on your part. For now."
"For now? Don't throw me a bone if you don't really mean it, witch." He replied rudely.
"Tomorrow. I want to discuss this with you further." She said with an air of superiority. Who did she think she was talking to?
"Would you like to, I don't know, give me a time? Maybe a place, too, Granger? Or shall I wander about the grounds aimlessly, hoping we find each other by chance like I'm Loony fucking Lovegood?" Draco asked, partially bitchy at the anticipation of her departure from their table. He'd have to watch her crawl back over to those two fucks.
"The first rule is to stop being so fucking rude to me. We'll meet in the classroom you cornered me outside of on Wednesday. No one uses it anymore. After breakfast." She lifted her chin. All her cursing was getting him kind of horny.
"I'll see what I can do, but I'm not making any promises – in case you hadn't noticed, being rude is sort of my thing," Draco winked at her as she rolled her eyes, standing from the table and preparing to turn around, "I'll meet you there, Granger. Maybe skip the jeans this time." He finished.
Suddenly, she looked back at him with a bit of a crazy glint in her eye.
"Malfoy, do keep in mind that despite my lack of experience, sex is a two-way street. I'm not just going to let you shag me. Both people can be active participants. I won't just take orders from you." She spat back at him, to his absolute shock.
"And I'll wear whatever I damn well please!" With that, she turned on her heel and stormed back towards her friends. She was so bloody hot when she was outraged. Luckily, he quite easily evoked such reactions.
He shivered as he stood, trying not to think too much longer about how she'd told him she planned on being an active participant, whatever the hell that meant. If he didn't focus on something else, he was going to blow their cover by way of sporting a noticeable boner in a public place. He figured that would probably be against the rules.
Draco gulped and followed her back to the bar.
