chapter 3
Reflections
There Hermione stood between Ronald and Draco Malfoy, a decision to make.
She glanced back at Malfoy with question. Could she really stand him enough for Harry? One fight with Malfoy would leave Harry at the possibility with expulsion with Umbridge on staff. It would be the last thing he needed. Voldemort was back. The world depended upon Harry Potter.
Hermione sighed. "Come, Ronald."
They walked away. It made Ron jumpy. Every few minutes he glanced back over his shoulder in anticipation for a hex from the end of Malfoy's dark Hawthorn wand.
"Are you alright?" He asked. "What are you doin' with Malfoy? You know the prat hasn't got an honest bone in him."
"I'm fine, Ron. Honestly. It was nothing. He just likes to fight with you and Harry, you know. How many times have I told you that he just wants to get you in trouble?" She grumbled. "He's normal enough without you two around."
It was the best she could manage. Under the circumstances.
There was a thought that kept her mind preoccupied. How had he known who her friends were? If they weren't complete bullies, she would have no idea who he associated with. She ignored him.
Unlike some. Girls in the castle acted as if they disliked him but got excited when he paid a bit of attention to them. She imagined him a tramp. With how many girls crushed on the wizard, he could have most the castle under his belt.
Strike that. He did.
What other explanation could there be for the kid glove treatment he got when he incited duels? Harry was the Chosen One. He was a good student, a little misguided which was not her fault since he never listened to her any way, but he was not nasty. Draco was awful. Detention often fell on Harry's lap, not Draco's.
"Just forget it." She didn't have the time to expand on her lie yet. That required a bit more time. "You should be with Harry."
"I don't know, Mione. He doesn't seem like he wants company."
"He doesn't. But he needs it," she said. "Stay close. He'll need you to watch out for him."
Ron snorted. "Come on. You've got to be joking. This is Harry Potter we're talking about. He knows how to take care of himself."
"Don't tell me he seems fine to you." She groaned in irritation. "You saw him over holiday. He's suffering. Cedric's death. Voldemort back. Dumbledore. He's got all that on his mind. And I can't be with him all year. You have to. "
They agreed that Ronald should be the one to focus on Harry. Their entire dorm, except Neville, didn't believe him. The Prophet did well in discrediting any thing he said. Tensions were higher because Seamus' parents didn't want him to return to Hogwarts and he blamed Harry for it.
Times were chaos.
Umbridge's presence in Hogwarts said enough. The government wished to cover up the horror that sat on the horizon like a sweeping cloud with the promises of continual sunshine. Fudge, the Minister for magic, was scared. The sweeping cloud of dark magic was difficult to rid the world of. Last time it came, it almost never left.
Classes started the next week which helped keep Hermione's attention distracted. Until came Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Umbridge did not like her. There were many times she tried to confuse Hermione in class (unsuccessfully). Finally, she just started to straight up ignore her raised hands or explanations.
That class caught Draco's attention, too. He forbade her from challenging the professor.
It was later that day when she laid on the shore of the Black Lake, studying her notes, when Draco helped himself to her company. She got used to Crabbe and Goyle being her shadow. They went every where she went at a distance far enough she could pretend ignorance to their attention. Draco came and went to his own schedule.
Apparently, it was after Quidditch practice. He trudged up the rocky shore in his Slytherin uniform with leather shin guards, wrist braces, finger-less gloves, and shoulder pads beneath his cloak. The broom was abandoned somewhere else near the Pitch.
He looked cross. Sun glinted off the water in magnified rays. He scowled and cast a charm above them.
Shade fell over her things. It was a tad too dark to read. She sighed and placed the things aside since he was bound to require all her attention in that typical Malfoy fashion.
"Help me, pet." He gestured toward his gear.
Quidditch made a player sore. More than once, she helped Harry remove his. A gentle hand eased the weight off their tired muscles gently rather overstretching already tired muscles and pulling them farther from the bone.
She carried the gear to the grass and arranged it nicely. It made him more pleasant to be around when forced if she hid her frustration. In the long run it'd be a smart decision. She brushed the grass off her hands and looked up. Crabbe and Goyle had disappeared from their spot under a tree. Strange.
When she turned back around, there was a missing green and gray jersey missing from Malfoy's chest. A flat, shapely torso lingered in the bare air. Naked. His beautiful porcelain skin shimmered with sweat. There was a red mark just between a pair of ribs. The end of a broomstick it looked like.
Hermione had never seen so much of Draco's body before. Or, any wizards for that matter. It took her breath away.
"Your shirts off," she blurted.
He sneered. "Better observation, why isn't yours off?"
Her hands to her chest in surprise. "Why I'd – what on – that's ridiculous. I'll stay fully clothed. Thank you."
"It would be better if you are not when I throw you in," he stated with a shrug. "That sweater will shrink. I'd hate for your secret to be out. You're a witch and not a shapeless blob."
"That's not funny."
"Course, pet. Now come here. We're going for a swim."
There was a whole roll of parchment she wanted to review before it was due. A book was due in the library tomorrow. She wanted one read through.
She shook her head. "I shouldn't. I've got work to do."
"I've got the same as you, Granger." He walked up and grabbed her wrist. She dug her feet into the ground, but chipped rock was not steady against her weight. Two ditches cut through the surface as Draco dragged her to the water. "I was nice enough to ask. Now, you've got no choice. In you go."
Draco was surprisingly strong. He lifted her against her flailing arms and kicking legs and walked into the chilly water. She gasped. The water reached the tender flesh under her knees that caused her to involuntarily kick out her legs straight. She bit her tongue. He would not get satisfaction from her exclamations.
It became harder and harder to do as the water climbed higher against their bodies. She clung to Draco's chest. The water was so cold it hurt. Her teeth clattered together.
When the water reached her erect nipples, she finally let her tongue go.
"Holy fuck! It's freezing."
A venom-less sneer crossed his lips. "Didn't know you knew such foul language, Granger. What would McGonagall say?" He mocked a gasp.
It was not funny. She splashed him in warning. The water was high enough for her to float away from his person. She swallowed a silent thank you. It was impossible to concentrate when her mortal enemy was pushed against her frame in a more familiar way than the extent of their association.
"I'm a teenager, same as you." She glanced back at the castle. It'd grown smaller in the distance. The forbidding presence was less so out so far. "Just because I don't spend my days shagging through the houses doesn't mean I'm not bound to the same proclivities as you."
That was the very moment she realized just how wrong it sounded.
A rushing blush consumed her face as Draco half-smirked with obvious enjoyment of her idiocy.
"Gryffindor princess, a usual student. Who would've guessed? Not Dumbledore." It was difficult to read through the mask of Draco Malfoy. There were points where the edges fell away, but the majority of him was covered entirely. All she knew was his tone. It was full of spite. "Man won't rest til there is a statue of you in the quad. 'Best student of the century' it'll say, knowing the ridiculous man."
"And Umbridge will frame your portrait as the best pureblood there is," Granger sneered. "Quite the pair, we are."
"We are not the same, Granger. We'll never be."
She nodded. "Then why are you doing this? If you want to hurt me, just do it and leave me alone."
"You ought to be grateful to me," he said.
That had to be one of the down right, most hilarious things he'd ever said.
"Grateful?" She choked. "For what? You've kidnapped me. Blackmailed me. Humiliated me in front of your friends. Tell me I can't write my friends. Have my entire house distrusting me. Not a single them will talk to me, now."
He was silent. It was not like he cared for what he'd done. Lucky her two best friends didn't hate her, or she'd just fight Draco herself.
She harshly chuckled again. "Oh! But there is the upside of having your two followers stalk me around and threaten to beat up any wizard who gets to close. It's like I have a master or something."
"You do," he said flatly. His eyes turned upward as he examined the sky. "Funny, you lot. Gryffindors. All dedicated and loyal. Until you get a friend in Slytherin. Then it's excommunication from the pride."
Waves of the lake splashed against her neck as she tread the deep black water. They were far from the shore now. Goosebumps puckered her purple flesh. She was numb already. Summer never reached the depths of the Black Lake. It stayed frigid all year long.
"It's not just a Slytherin," she snipped. "It's because it is you. If you were Terrence Higgs for example - ."
"Higgs?"
His eyes grew two sizes. She didn't see him swim. One moment he was a fair space away then another, he wasn't.
Draco's eyes coursed, the whites brighter than a full moon. Void of all sensation beyond exhaustion from treading water on an endless loop, Hermione felt the stinging chill down in her bones. It felt strange to be his focal point. An obsession. Scary, but thrilling.
A shiver of excitement stroked her spine. The base of the bones tingled.
"I said no wizards." Draco growled. He gritted his teeth to bite back the anger. "No other wizard can touch you. Especially Higgs. You stay away from him."
The bodily response had nothing to do with her emotions of the issue. She hated it. She wanted him to leave her alone. There were better things both could do with their time.
"No one in their right minds is going to steal me away to become their pet, Malfoy. It is not a normal thing to do. Illegal in some places, you know. Most in fact."
"No. Wizards." His face was centimeters from hers, moving closer with each pulse of the water. "Those were the terms you agreed to, Granger. I do not share."
For a split second, there was a change in his eyes. She saw through the mask into the deeper parts of him that were haunted and more treacherous than simple blackmail. Her pulse quickened. So did her breath.
The warmth of his breath touched her nose. They were so close now.
She nodded under the demand of his eyes. "No wizards, Malfoy. No other wizards."
A darkness crept in on dense clouds. The playful summer breeze turned violent. Strands pulled from her hair tie and danced around the edges of her face in their curly Q nature until they were tucked behind her ears. Soon enough it wasn't just the water that was cold. The air became so chilly that the water almost felt warm as her skin blistered against in long cold drags of the wind.
There was not a person outside the walls of the castle. Brilliant stretched lawns of Hogwarts were empty. It was far enough that no one would spy them from castle windows. The fallen dark of the pending storm protected them, too, but with pregnant bellied clouds overhead in dramatic revelation.
Thunderstorms in the Gryffindor dormitories were frightening. Every quake of thunder shook the walls of stone. She pictured the flooring falling out below her feet and a nice plunge onto the ground after each one.
Hermione started to panic. A body of water in a thunderstorm asked for trouble. Trouble of an electrocuted variety.
The sky looked ready to threaten violence should they linger any longer. White topped waves started to levitate them higher and higher in the water. They'd have drifted apart if not for Draco's hold. She curled her fingers backward to hold onto his wrist, too.
A cruel joke of sending her out to Mervillage was not below him.
"We should go," she shouted through the forceful wind. It whittled her voice to a hollow sound.
The intensity of Draco did not change, nor did his attention turn to the storm around them.
"You are my pet."
Anger. She knew how to read that emotion well from him. It was Malfoy's anger.
"I know," she roared over the thundering above their heads. "Only yours to bully. I bloody get it."
"No that's not what I –."
A strong pull ripped her under. Air forced out. The watery depths pushed against her body in every direction, swirled so hard almost able to give whiplash. She clawed at the water. Air became limited. Her feet kicked hard as she could, but the water had ideas of pulling her away further. Or closer.
Hermione was all turned around. Up. Down. She didn't know where to go.
Fear licked its way up her spine like fierce flames. Dark water surrounded her. It closed in to personally suffocate her of every sensation as death circled. So did the pain. Her throat was on fire from the urge to scream out all the ache that came with drowning.
Another push of the wave pushed her deeper. She crashed up against something solid. The last bits of air bubbled out her throat. The boulder bullied her a few moments longer, bruising the soft tender spots of her torso as waves of water coursed by.
It was the last bit of energy she had to not inhale deeply when a column of white water appeared above her. Two hands reached out, grabbed hold of her elbows and pulled her up through the film of tickle bubbles to break an icy surface.
She screamed when air finally filled her lungs.
The hands didn't relent. They kept her above water as she trembled from pain. Despite the lovely flow of air through her nostrils, no relief came to her chest. Each breath was rawer than the last.
Crispy grass stabbed her back as she was thrown against the ground. A shadow hovered above her.
Still, she struggled to breathe. A blur came to her eyes. They struggled to focus on anything: the grass, her hands, Draco. He was there. Although, where, she couldn't say.
"Pulmonem repairo."
Anyone who ever claimed fresh air was the best never had a first breath after nearly being suffocated from a collapsed lung. Oxygen felt heavenly. Her eyes rolled back as she breathed with greed.
The Black Lake was not a nice place for a swim.
"Malfoy. That was - ."
"You just can't help but be that way, can you?" He snapped.
She recoiled back onto the grass. "I didn't do anything."
"You don't matter. I could have left you at the bottom of that lake and no one would have cared." Her eyes enlarged as he spoke. "Strike that. They would have hung a bloody medal round my neck for letting the world's most annoying know-it-all become fish food."
Had she bumped her head on the bottom of the lake or was Malfoy off his rocker?
"What did I do?" She gasped. "Why are you saying these things?"
Draco marched away, scrunched up expression on his face. He came back with an extended finger. "You, Hermione Granger, are nothing. You know that? You are nothing but my property. Property. Like an animal. And just like an animal, I can put you down at any time. Just remember that. I won't hesitate to put you in your bloody place."
Frustrated tears fell down her cheeks. "How dare you!"
That was not the way to go. It only encouraged his anger farther which made her want to push back even harder.
He squared himself up ready to fight. "How dare I?" He chuckled sardonically. "How dare I. Not much of a dare to threaten your best friends when neither care to even try and fight for you. What's that say about you, Granger? Really. Just really think about it. Your beloved Saint Potter and the dimwit sidekick. Doubt either noticed your gone. But how can that be? You're always there to remind them just how stupid they are. Perhaps they're glad to be rid of you."
Draco kicked up grass as he marched over to his things. In one hand, he grabbed his discarded clothes, the other held his gear.
He hadn't waited for her response. There was none to say anyway. Her mind fell darkly numb. It hurt worse than her body beat up by the waves and the water and the cramps of her legs from all the swimming. Her knees wiggled together as she tried to move.
It was cold. The wind burned her exposed flesh. She felt one of her ribs knock against something else as she breathed.
It took ages to get herself back to Gryffindor Tower to clean up for when Harry finished with detention. He worked with Umbridge every night that week. Each night he wrote lines that scarred the back of his hand. She'd found a wrap, with Ron's help, to help with the pain. A temporary fix. Not permanent.
If Harry wasn't too stubborn to go to Dumbledore, it wouldn't have to continue.
She picked the pieces of seaweed out of her hair as hot steam rose from the shower. It was cranked as far as the handle would go. Her bones needed heat.
The hollow coldness in her chest stayed longer than the chill. Dressed back in her black robes and fresh as the day, Draco's words sat within her heart in the cleverly crafted knife he made himself fin the situation he created in the first place. Worst part was, he was right.
Hermione sat on the edge of her bed, face in her hands.
Harry was so different. After the night in the graveyard when Voldemort came back, he wasn't himself. He was angry. Every little thing made him snap. Ron had no choice but to be there for him. Harry Potter was the only chance for the good side to defeat Voldemort. Whether anyone liked it or not, war would come.
Not today. Maybe not tomorrow. It still descended.
Neither of her boys needed her to cause trouble. They had to prepare. Harry had to stay strong. Ron needed to keep Harry alive until the time came to use his strength.
Where did that leave her?
Depressed, alone in a dorm room, with Draco sodding Malfoy at the root of her pain, that's where.
She didn't know what to do. There was nothing to do. Draco Malfoy was a git, yes, but small in terms of the world. Voldemort was a true problem. He posed a great threat to all people. Not just her. Everyone should prepare for the rising tide that came from his threat to humanity.
The idea took a bit more time to form. It didn't truly take shape until Harry returned that night after detention. She felt the words finally fall out of her mouth in a way her personal pride took a subtle hit from.
Lessons to defeat Voldemort from Harry was the only way she'd learn how to fight off dark arts. Umbridge essentially ensured the school would be inept with a wand against anything tougher than a pixie.
But, if she was going to suffer with Malfoy so that Harry could focus on himself, then she might as well learn to protect herself. There would come a time when it'd be just her for herself, no one there to save her if she needed it. She needed to be aggressive with a wand. Dark arts were powerful. That took skill and practice.
Harry had skill, due to unfortunate circumstances of his life that kept happening, and practice from aforementioned circumstances. He knew spells some grown wizards couldn't conjure!
She obsessed about it for two weeks. The start of a student-led training program for those who wanted to truly learn defense against the dark arts. The preparations were done under the supervision of Crabbe and Goyle. They kept their distance, never too curious to uncover what she was doing. Still whenever she looked over her shoulder, they were always there, hands in their pockets or a biscuit in their hand.
Draco stayed away.
That was delightful. All she had to do was ignore him in class, too, and it was like he never existed in the first place. It baffled her that the two followers kept their place as her shadow but as long as he never came back around, they could follow her forever.
Except, she had secret meetings coming up. Secret things to be done.
She couldn't do that with them following her everywhere. That risked everything. The Order. Harry. Plans.
The night before the weekend visit to Hogsmeade, Hermione was given a surprise. She was at her usual place at Gryffindor table. Harry retired early to be alone. She didn't mind. Alone time sounded great. Ron conjured some excuse to leave after him, knowing full well that he was going to keep an eye on Harry just in case he did something impulsive and crazy.
Hermione felt entirely abandoned.
The Gryffindor table was divided between those who believed Voldemort returned, and those who thought Harry was a nutter. She viciously defended Harry whenever she could. Now that Draco inserted himself as a tie to her, none of her classmates ventured close.
She sighed, dug at the small peas on her plate, ready to curl under her blankets, when the bench bumped the back of her calves. She turned, surprised, to see a friendly face.
"Ginny." Hermione smiled.
"Evening, Mione," the witch greeted. "What have you been up to? Not seen you much this year."
"Studying and schoolwork. I've got so much. Not much time for anything else it seems. OWLs are this year. Got to keep up with it all." She pushed her utensils aside with one last swallow of her tea. "How have you got on?"
"Fine. Ron's the one you ought to be worried about. He never does his homework."
There was a clear tension in her voice. It wasn't voiced with words, but Hermione saw the downturned slope of her lips as Ginny Weasley fell quiet. A sadness glinted the edges of her eyes.
Hermione touched the witch's arm. "What is it?"
Two blue eyes stared up at the ceiling with a swallow.
"Has something happened, Gin? I can help. Is it Michael?"
Ginny chuckled and wiped below his eyes. "Godric, no. It's actually…I'm worried about Harry. He's got that look in his eye like he's gone mad. Do you think he's, well, that he's, alright?"
That had been on her mind. Albeit not as much since the Malfoy mess. Plus her studies.
Every morning both her best friends emerged with sunken eyes of restless slumber, physically assaulted by darkness. She was also. But there was importance in Harry's suffering. It couldn't break him. Ron either. They were the key to everything. The entire world.
She swallowed back down her fear. Ginny needed comfort. Not fact.
"Harry's fine," she answered with a bit too much hype in her voice. "He's how he always is."
"Everything is so different this year. Harry is whatever he is. I'm with Michael now. You're friends with Malfoy." Her eyes turned shifty. "Which is odd. What happened with you two? You told me you hated him. You all hate him, don't you? Are – and I promise I will not tell Ron whatever the answer is – you dating?"
Dating? Her and Malfoy.
The idea was so hilarious she burst into huge rolling laughter that attracted lots of attention. She didn't stop. Tears rolled down her cheeks.
"Dating?" A splitting pain shot up her side.
"It's that ridiculous? You're telling me that you being friends with him is less ridiculous than dating him? The only thing that makes senses about it is if you were snogging."
"Snogging is the last thing I'll be doing with Draco Malfoy. Ever."
Ginny leaned forward and whispered, "Does the Order have you on some secret mission to spy on Malfoy?"
Bullocks. That would have been a great excuse to give Ronald. It explained things much better than 'being friends', something that would never fly with any member of the Order. However, it convinced Ron and Harry to stay away. No chance of expulsion at every corner.
Ron hadn't taken the news well. She had heard about it for nearly two days straight. Eventually Harry had captured his worry enough to let the Malfoy thing go.
Things were different when Harry found out. He was much more suspicious. Every other statement was a question of her part to ensure she was truly herself. Quite insulting, it was. It took a great deal of convincing to stop him from confronting Malfoy that forced her to 'admit' that it was her own thinking of friendship rather than his to bury the hatchet between them.
That was rough.
She gritted and bared it for them both. Stubborn wizards.
"He's not that bad, you know," she said softly. "Boys will be boys. Fight over themselves. He isn't so awful."
"He calls you mudblood all the time, Mione."
It did not get any easier to flat out lie to her friends.
"That's just an inside joke. You know. Because he's a pureblood and I'm, not. It is all good fun. We tease one another, like you and Ron."
"Oh."
The hall was busy in the commotion of supper. There was the rowdy laughter of Seamus at one end of the table. His goblet clattered to the table with a ringing cling. It radiated in their ears. Gryffindor table turned on him, ears over their ears, with a consensus of disproval.
He sank back down in his seat.
"I'll never forgive him for what he's done to Harry, and Ron, and poor Neville. It is just cruel."
Hermione nodded. "I understand."
"But I don't hate you for being friends with him. Don't ask me to be nice to him. I respect your choice to willing associate with the wizard though," Ginny promised.
It was a kind enough offer. More than any other Gryffindor would be willing to extend.
As the girls talked more, a few shadows emerged behind them in the Great Hall. They noticed the lumped pair with uncomfortable gazes. One glared down at Hermione with the look of daggers. The other gazed off to the plates that littered the table.
A smile slacked off Ginny's face as she noticed them. "What's this now?"
Hermione shrugged. They never came that close when they followed her. For all she knew, they wanted to talk to her on their own accord, though she had doubts since muscles in Goyle's face twitched so hard against his scowl.
"Draco wants to talk to you," Crabbe said.
To beat her down, no doubt. Hermione flipped her hair over her shoulder and stared at the Slytherin table. There sat the prince of darkness himself. He wore his hair moussed to the side, exposing the short hairs on each side. The typical black suit hugged his features tightly. Broad shoulders, slender length like a cool drink of water on a summer day.
Oh how she hated it.
There was an intoxicating allure that radiated from him in unguarded moments where just the faintest line exposed the flesh beneath his mask. He was lost in conversation with his housemates. Whatever it was, he spoke passionately. There was a glow within the pale hue of his eyes.
For a moment she forgot what a prick he was.
"I don't feel like talking," she answered. "Tell him to try again some other time."
Crabbe and Goyle shared a look. "Umm."
She made no comment more. They left. Not permanently.
Once again they were at her back with Draco's request for her presence at his table, only they included a bit sterner warning.
"Draco wants to talk about dueling. Said you'd know what it was about."
Her eyes grew twice as wide.
Gin straightened in her seat. "Dueling. What's he talking about?"
"As Draco's pet, you supposed to come the first time," Goyle snarled. "He's not going to be happy."
"His what?" Ginny exclaimed.
"Pet," Crabbe said, thinking she'd not heard, not that she was shocked by the news which any person would be.
Two wild eyes found hers. "That's your friendship. His pet. You're a pet to control." Her two raised eyebrows did not lower until Hermione hanged her head. The weight of mounted mortification was shocking. "Now I understand it. He's using you. For fun. To make fun of."
First he hurt her with words, now with exposure. What more did he want? Her life?
Hermione blinked back rising tears as she looked her friend in the eye, took her hand and said, "I have to go. He doesn't like to wait."
"Are you sure about this? It is…it's bloody awful is what it is."
"Trust me, Gin. Trust me."
"Harry will…"
"Don't." Hermione shook her head. "No one will understand. You don't either, I see that. But, please. Trust me."
Eyes watched Hermione march over to the Slytherin table. She clasped her hands in front of her as she followed the two summoners back to Draco. It was for the best. The entire school saw her near the Slytherins so word would spread once and for all.
She was his pet. That was her name now.
All the years in primary when she was desperate for a nickname from a dear friend left the irony of the situation more amusing than it should have. Leave it to fate to pick this time to arrange a nickname for her. Pet. It was far too cute and timid to suit her.
Her tongue bitterly sat fixed behind the wall of stone lips that she mentally bricked herself. It was for her friends. She had to do it for her friends. The entire world mattered more than her comfort. She kept that at the forefront as she passed Slytherins of every caliber and association. They all turned. It reminded her of synchronized swimming. One observant face after another turned in some bare-faced disbelief as Hermione Granger, best friend of Harry Potter, willingly entered a realm compromised of serpents set on her as their prey.
The backs of Crabbe and Goyle's heads parted to reveal the den: Pansy and Daphne, Theo, with Blaise on the other side on him. Two foul faced witches sat near. They paid her no attention. Goyle took his seat near the bulldog faced one with sad eyes.
Draco was at the center of them like a porcelain god. He was all easy smiles, tongue in his cheek like he's just said something clever.
It was no stretch of the imagination to understand why he was popular: good skin, handsome features, sharp blue eyes, ability to read others like a paperback. The wizard was charming. When he wanted to be, that was.
His eyes roamed every inch of her as she was presented before him as an offering to their scaly king.
"Ah, pet," he finally said. "Sit down."
She scanned the table. There was an empty seat five spaces down. As much as she longed to not be close to him (his voice brought back memories of what he'd said on the Black Lake), the space would not make him happy.
Hermione remained still.
Draco snapped at the seat beside him. "Here."
A pin could have dropped in the Great Hall. Every house looked on at the spectacle of Hermione at the command of Draco Malfoy, a sworn enemy of The-Boy-Who-Lived.
Things turned more tense as she was stopped on her path by none other than Terrence Higgs.
He smiled. "Still at this game, is he? Doesn't he ever tire of it?"
She turned wobbly at the knees. One wink made her heart beat faster.
The attention of a handsome guy, wizard or muggle, brought that pathetic insecure girl back to the surface with a hope that was ill-suited for the smart, capable witch she'd become at Hogwarts. She was not a ditzy gossip like Lavender or Pavarti. Hermione was beyond silly affections.
Still, her body responded to Higgs in another way entirely. The air in her lungs bolted from her nose and refused return until she acknowledged her feelings. An unrepeatable voice reminded her of the way her knickers wet when the kind voice hit her ears like a direct spigot to desire for a wizard to notice her.
At one point, she'd wished for Ronald to do that to her. She cared for him. There were no words to describe the feelings she had for her dear friend, but it was nothing like the mature attraction she felt for an off-limits Slytherin. Mature in terms of what she'd allow done to her.
Suddenly Draco was at her side with a biting tone. A fury wash of blue and gray battled within his eye. "Back. Off. Higgs."
The entire school watched a wizard be driven away from Hermione like the plague. It was against rules to pull of wand on another student, which Draco knew, but he might as well have pushed the wood to his throat. There was such a venom in his tone.
"Don't come near her again," Draco declared, sure enough to make his words echo through the Great Hall.
She followed him to their seats, eyes fixed to the floor, happy to just sit down and cease all the tension between the table. Whispers spread through the ranks. They all wanted to know why Draco was with Hermione Granger. It hadn't crossed their minds that the vile bully of the school grounds was involved with a muggleborn he was known to torment relentlessly.
An important notion, the two of them in anything but a feud.
Draco Malfoy adjusted his school robes as he sat. "It is a Hogsmeade weekend."
It was that voice that repeated in the darkness of the night as she laid down for sleep.
I won't hesitate to put you in your place. A growl grumbled at the back of her throat. He wanted to ruin every aspect of herself, but there was one thing she would hold onto with all her might. Her unwillingness.
Hermione crossed her arms, silent as the grave. Was it his chance to boast of his plans? Did he want to forbid her from going? Whatever it was, she cared not. Malfoy liked to blow air. So long as he blew in front of his friends with no follow through, she'd let him blow on until he tired himself out.
"We're going after breakfast," Draco stated in the tone as if she'd asked him his plans. Her unfazed gaze did not hinder his entitled tone. "Courtyard. Meet us there tomorrow, pet. Wear something fashionable. You do have such things, do you not?"
Tomorrow in Hogsmeade was the first meeting to discuss secret lessons from Harry. She had to be there.
She cleared her throat, hesitant. If she mentioned Harry at all, it would become Draco's sole mission to destroy it all. That would not happen.
"Actually, I have plans. Later."
A ripe purple grape hopped from one finger to the next in Draco's hand. He popped it atop his tongue with a soft squish. The spotlight of his attention made her squirm. Between his devouring gaze and the discomfort of the uncertain surroundings, it was far from relaxing.
She jumped in her seat when a few older students raised in their seats.
Malfoy rolled his eyes. "No reason to be jumpy, Granger. There is no one to hex you here."
"Not in my experience."
"It is now." There was no caution in his voice. "They all know not to mess with my things."
His things. His property.
A person was not an item to be owned. The blood in her veins burned with oxygen and cells, same as his. The flesh stretched across her bones pierced under the same pressure of any pureblood. There was no mystery to her inner workings as some unknown creature.
Muggleborns were not created to spite the purists, no matter how they believed muggleborns the plotters of the magical world set on world domination. Funny how it was their side that truly embraced world domination, rather than acceptance.
The thought reminded Hermione to be disgusted. "I'll keep on my guard. Thanks for the concern. Is that all? If so, I have lots of things to do before tomorrow."
"What plans?" He asked. "You said you had plans. What are they?"
Brilliant. What was her lie? It damned well couldn't be the secret meeting of other students.
She stole a breath. "A patron of the Hog's Head was going to post a letter to my parents." When she looked up from her hands in her lap, there were Slytherin faces interested in her response, not just Malfoy. They seemed confused; a few had wrinkled foreheads. "They're uncomfortable with owls."
"An owl?" Theo scoffed. "What do they do with their pet owls then if they don't like a post owl?"
The stupidity made her take a slow blink to be sure it was reality.
"They don't have pet owls, you dolt."
Malfoy's tone was condescending in all senses of the word. He peered down the length of his nose with such disdain for the pureblood wizard so unlike himself who personified the makings of Slytherin house.
The lot of them were difficult to sort. Relations between Slytherins were opposite that of the Gryffindors, who regarded their dorm mates as close friends with a clear admiration for one another as like-minded lions.
Hermione was only news. Slytherin gossip. That was what had their attention.
"I hate the Head," Crabbe groaned.
"Smells in there." Goyle agreed.
She noticed a few strings on her knee, fallen from the fabric of her sweater. "He cures fish there using the most concentrated salt in the world. That's the smell."
The curl of Goyle's lip didn't change. He muttered under his breath and focused back on his own plate. By then, supper was almost done. The crowd of the Great Hall slowly trickled into the bleeding veins of the castle, a distinct problem on the grounds where warm light remained.
Early in the term sunlight shined down for a while longer after supper. Soon enough when blistering winds closed in, darkness reigned in those long evenings, making the time pass slower than ever before. Hermione loved those days. The library felt cozier as the cool raged on outside.
She loved to look up from a warm seat and watch the swirling flourishes of frost as it crept up glass panes. A warm cup of tea. That made the moment perfect.
"Write your letter here," Draco said after a long sip of his goblet. "Have Crabbe and Goyle take it there. You'll reek for days after time in the Hog's Head."
No problem. Just have Crabbe and Goyle lead the meeting too while they're there, to truly seal the casket. Hermione panted softly. It was unnatural to hold back the urge to shove Malfoy's face in his words, earning herself some points within her own house and rightfully placing him on the other side of their plans, but now she was forced to play nice with him if she wished Harry to remain within school.
It was more of a feat that she believed previously.
"They don't have to do that. I'm sure they got better stuff to do than," she swallowed, hating herself for the next words out of her mouth, "muggle stuff."
There was a silence that swept through the ranks of the Slytherins as if they'd all heard the cursed word with supersonic hearing since most were halfway down the length of the Great Hall.
Curious if Terrence Higgs was affected by the word, she stole a glance. One single glance.
The mature, rugged looks were too delightful to deny herself.
Hermione knew that it was ludicrous to develop romantic crushes during the chaos of the world. She was in school still. No relationships lasted in the teenage hormone days. It was not genuine. All of it lead to sex, heartbreak, insecurity, and trouble. Even now when she was in the trouble she was with Draco being her controlling blackmailer and Voldemort on the rise, fantasizing about Terrence Higgs was the last place she should be.
The space where he'd been with his friends was empty.
It was time to leave the Great Hall. Supper was finished.
Pansy rose from her seat. "See you back in the common room, Draco."
He nodded to each of them as they left. It was an odd habit to greet everyone by name, typically last name, and a single nod of the head. The rigid expressions on their faces unsettled her.
When it came Blaise's turn, tension turned thick. The wizard did not speak Draco's name nor did he nod. Gray and brown eyes locked together in a battle of silence, neither relenting their gaze toward the ground in defeat.
Suddenly the Italian wizard's dark eyes turned toward Hermione. "Granger," he said with a dip of his head.
Granger was not a common name amongst the fifth year Slytherins. Most called her mudblood. She hated it, of course, but it was what they all addressed her as since they were too noble to acknowledge a muggleborn as a person. It ruined their pureblood status, somehow.
Hermione glanced toward Draco. He explicitly said no wizards. She agreed to that term.
However, he was an absolute ass by the Black Lake.
"Zabini." She repeated the action back at him.
"Let's go, pet." Draco was on his feet the next moment, a long shadow above her. "We've got work to do. Excuse us, Blaise."
The library was a sanctuary. Hermione loved the old leather, ancient parchment smell drifted her back to a world of happiness as she pulled streams of knowledge from their pages. Her heart opened, blossomed.
A few Ravenclaws were at a table when Draco and Hermione entered. One of the boys whispered as they passed.
Draco kept her to his left side as he walked. Crabbe and Goyle drifted behind.
"They don't have to follow me," she said.
"Oh, yeah, Granger? You the boss now?" His eyes darted through the rows of books until he found an empty space with no one near. He set down his bag, pointed to the seat he intended her to occupy and helped himself to the seat straight across so they might openly glare at one another if they felt like it. She glanced sideways. Goyle and Crabbe already took seats near the door. "Must be since you've spoken to what, two wizards now."
She fell into the chair. "Technically that's not true. I did not speak to Terrence."
"You didn't…you didn't want to speak to me either. In fact, you tried not to."
That was a rock she did not want to overturn. There was too much homework to do. She pulled her books and quill from her knit messenger bag, teal embroidered with thick brown swirls.
A foot of parchment was due in charms class. She set to work outlining the requirements, all seven of them, highlighting the exact dimensions and applications of the spell while also emphasizing the danger of a misused charm, just as Flitwick believed in his cautious nature. He made a point to mention horrible accidents when he taught. She made sure to note them during the lesson to be utilized in her own research as well as assignments.
Once he awarded her extra credit for listing every injury possible from a backfired charm spell one of his first years did when Flitwick first started teaching.
She was happily halfway done with her outline when a blistering gaze hit her hands. It was instinct to meet the gaze.
Draco sat with lips in a firm grimace. "I hate you."
"The feeling is mutual," she replied flatly. "But you insist we do this pathetic game."
He growled. "Tread carefully, Granger."
The scratch of quill against paper paused. There was half a second where she questioned the point of her current course. It was wild. Wild in a way that seemed unbelievable. The magical world did that to her often.
Instead, she continued to write her essay.
The intense blisters of focused vision moved up her fingers, painfully slowly over her arms to her face that she kept dedicated to charms work rather than the urge to wield her wand in the form of a blinding curse, which incidentally, could permanently blind him as Flitwick would warn.
She sighed. It was all for Harry. Harry and the world depended on her.
"You think you're so better than me," Draco spat. His rage finally got the best of him, as it always did. "I'm just as smart as you. More wealthy than this entire bloody school. Quick with a wand. Yet you put on airs as Merlin's blessed one better than everyone here."
All actions ceased.
The library fell silent; the Ravenclaws left. Their throng of breaths kept the sound of the room louder than the eerie quiet.
"I don't think I'm better than you, Malfoy."
He scoffed. "Sure you don't. Princess of Gryffindor Tower is for the people. Things would have been better if you'd just been swallowed by the Basilisk second year. I wouldn't have to stare at your smug face every bleeding class."
"It wouldn't be smug if you weren't such a shallow prick!" Her voice carried.
A stern librarian answered the exclamation with a warning and following shush.
Hermione settled in her chair, arms crossed, distinct anger on her face. "If you didn't have to feel superior to every person in the entire world, you might have realized that we could have been friends. Great friends. The two most gifted students in our year, in years, with the classmates we have. Your own pride blinded you. Now you're stuck with those two."
Goyle whittled his quill into a makeshift recorder, squeaky notes flew out the end with less appeal than a dying seagull. Madame Pince bustled after him. Hermione snorted a nasty sound from her nostrils.
Draco snarled as he watched his two 'friends' rile an old librarian in their childish ways.
"Enjoy your pride and your company." She gathered her things quickly. "They're clearly a great reflection of you."