Chapter 13
Oh, darling. You've Gone Red.
Hermione arrived later to breakfast than normal. Drogon had dragged out a black jumper from somewhere and wouldn't rest until she took it with her. Each time she removed it, he put it right back in her satchel. It went on for fifteen minutes whilst all her roommates complained of the incessant meowing. Finally, she caved when Lavender tossed a pillow.
Gryffindor was a sleepy table. Their heads were sunken. Voices quiet. It took a while for the lions to fully roar awake. Harry and Ron were lucky to make it in time to snag a bite of something before class.
The Slytherins, on the other hand, were in their full swing. They chatted with smiles as they ate off plates brimmed with fresh foods. Draco Malfoy was in his usual place. He chatted with a Slytherin she recognized from the Pitch. What was missing from his space was the usual high-pitched squeal of that pig Pansy Parkinson.
The embarrassment of Pansy's statement was washed away the night before. Hermione hardly cared if the witch thought of her as a whore. She wasn't one. That was the truth and that's all Hermione needed.
Through the crowd, she spotted the ebony black hair down on the other end, nearer the younger Slytherins. They stared with their wide little eyes as she ate silently.
A small, shallow vein of satisfaction twisted Hermione's mouth with a smile. She had to enjoy the little things. It looked like karma found its way to the bitch after all.
She made her way toward the deserted table of burgundy and gold when a sharp echoing whistle split the room. For whatever reason, it halted her steps.
The Great Hall was not a place of epic scenes in the morning. Some acknowledged the sound with a wince while others continued to stare at their places with a faraway look in their eyes.
Hermione Granger glanced at the Slytherin table, where, sure enough, Malfoy stared. His hand was gestured toward the seat at his side. Crabbe and Goyle were late risers. It was possible they weren't awake yet to corral her.
It was just lucky that she was not in the mood to fight him. She wanted to eat and start her day on a pleasant note.
She walked the lonely distance of the Slytherin table until she reached the section of the fifth years. The open seat was hers. She took it without an ounce of hesitation. The ease of the transition from Hermione Granger, Gryffindor to Granger, Slytherin pet was frightening.
Malfoy continued a tired-out discussion of his mother's Christmas parties. They took place every year. The Daily Prophet reported the gala every year with detailed pictures of the decorations and those in attendance. It was the red carpet of wizarding society purebloods. A practical list of Death Eater compadres and Voldemort sympathizers.
Her ears were piqued with interest as to whom Malfoy mentioned he dreaded seeing – one whom spilled brandy on his new imported shoes! The horror! – and the odd withdrawn nature of the witches.
Plates atop the Slytherin table were spread out, as they were with every House table. Hermione felt a discomfort in asking for what she desired, the plates nearest being picked through for their warmest and best contents, so she picked at some fruit and ate them quietly. Her tea was hot. That was most important.
"Here." A plate was thrust to her face. Grapes dropped from her fingers as she reached out to take it.
"Um, thanks." Hermione didn't know what to make of it.
The Slytherin witch, of wavy blonde locks and thick rimmed glasses, shrugged. "The boys clean out the plates this section of the table. You'll never get anything if you sit next to them."
Near Ronald Weasley at a table, it was much the same. That kid had a knack for eating. He wasn't picky either. He grinned at a plate of chicken drumsticks as he did beans and toast.
"I'm Daphne." The witch gave a soft, yet inquisitive smile.
"Right. Nice to meet you. I'm, well, Granger to you lot."
The witch wrinkled her nose. "Do you mind? I'm not for all that last name pretension. It reeks entirely of the classless."
Hermione's head bobbed as she swallowed a crumble of a muffin. "Of course. Hermione is fine with me."
A levelheaded witch in Slytherin. What a treat!
Daphne Greengrass was a faceless witch in the background of Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson's reign of Slytherin terror. There was no moment Hermione could recall the sound of her voice or the bounce of her glasses at she wiggled her leg. She dressed plainly, same as Hermione, with looser trousers and jumper, with a necktie just below its proper height. Her hair was tied at the base of her skull, loosely. Strands of her light hair spread through the dark weave of jumper.
The witch had three friendship bracelets twisted around her wrist. Plus, a thick gaudy brown leather split in the center by a large silver tree. Her hands had little drawings of black ink between her fingers.
There were astrological symbols, like the phases of the moon and some stars. A few lightening bolts. A simple heart with a twisted curl at the base. One was an intricate anchor crafted of navy-blue ink rather than the black.
"We have potions together," Daphne stated.
Really? "Yeah. Gryffindor and Slytherin have potion together. I remember."
"You and Ron and Harry have to fight over who is counted out." It was not a question. She said it like a statement, to point out some underlying truth that Hermione could not figure out. Did she seek to draw attention to Harry and Ron? Was it a question over why they switched?
Hermione swallowed her confusion with an unbothered tone. "Yes, well. Threesomes are unfairly broken sometimes."
"Malfoy changed partners and I don't want to have Goyle as mine." She pulled at the bundle of bracelets on her wrist. "It would be easier on both of us if we paired up."
That was news.
Malfoy was the second best in the class. Who would want to lose him as a partner? He did impeccable work. His grade was close to hers.
She leaned forward, very interested. "Pansy and Malfoy aren't partners anymore? Why would she do that?"
"Pet." Malfoy's elbow nudged her gently.
Daphne gave her a knowing look and shifted away when Malfoy demanded Hermione's attention. She twisted back toward him.
"Hm?" She said softly.
"We should study in the Great Hall today instead of the library," he suggested casually. "During our free period."
News of the separation of Pansy and Malfoy as potions partners was still fresh. She didn't know what to think. Was it Pansy's idea to break things off? That was impossible. Malfoy had the second-best grade in the class. Who would ever risk their grade like that? Even if they were fighting over their breakup.
Hermione was giddy, though, that she learned of the intimacy of their breakup. Pansy cheated. Malfoy hated her for that. He wanted nothing to do with her. That meant that he was moved on with his feelings for her. Possibly extinct emotions. Her heart thudded to a wild beat as she struggled to even out her breath. The logical assumption was that Malfoy was not jealous of Pansy and he certainly did not need a way to get back at her. He'd like to be rid of her. Which meant…it was entirely rational for his emotions for Hermione to be real. He kissed her like he meant it. They lounged around each other with surprising comfort.
Things were not as she originally planned. That was clear.
Her eyes grew wide as Ginny's cute little face popped in her head with those words she'd hated to hear. Malfoy had feelings. Whatever they were, they were there. He wanted to possess her. Control her. All other wizards had to leave her alone. It was practically in front of her face.
Malfoy liked her.
Even now there was a softness in his features when he suggested not demanded they study in the Great Hall. Hermione was given the option to debate the suggestion if she wanted. He was pliable. Flexible.
What. The. Bloody. Hell.
"Sure. The Great Hall sounds great."
Did it though? She preferred the library because it was a forced quiet. It was easier to focus. Plus, books. And everything about books was positive in her mind.
He watched her wrap both of her hands around her teacup as she sipped. His eyes narrowed slightly.
Malfoy was next to her face the next instant. "Curious. I never pictured you to be nervous at breakfast time. What's got you all in a twist?"
"Don't play coy, you sod," was what she wanted to say. Wanted.
Instead what she said was, "Potions. I've got a new partner and I don't think my friends will approve."
His face twisted to a smirk. "A new partner in Potions, eh? Wouldn't happen to be a Slytherin, would it?"
She placed her teacup lightly in it's matching saucer. "It would. Daphne asked me and I accepted."
"Daphne?" His brow twitched. His eyes glanced over her shoulder at the witch alongside her. "Doesn't like the prospect of a new partner, does she?"
"Seeing as the options are Pansy, Crabbe, Goyle and you, I'd suspect not."
"Like you wouldn't jump at the chance to be my partner," he snickered.
She felt a rise in her. The opportunity was just there for her to reap.
"You must have me confused for someone who likes to stroke…your ego."
A silent stir came to Malfoy as he sat there alongside his peers. His eyes turned to burning flames that she knew were laced with desire. Did he want to push her into that wall and snog her lungs out? Probably.
His eyes shuttered to her parted, pouty lips she made extra red from biting. "Mm. And where might I find a witch that doesn't mind a bit of stroking? The library perhaps?"
She had to tear her gaze away to withhold the lust from pouring out. Instead she focused upon her teacup once again as she pulled the cool cup toward her mouth, steam hot in her face, lips caressed the edge.
"From what I heard, the Great Hall."
He smirked. "I'll see you then."
Hermione had a smile the whole day. She went through her classes with a noticed enthusiasm that her friends beheld with questionable gazes. The shimmery glint in her eye didn't diminish when Umbridge made the offhand comment that she preferred elves with 'leashes round their filthy little necks', though Hermione fingered her wand in it's place. She still wore her S.P.E.W. badge proudly.
Her friends were lightened by her joy. They smiled more than they had all year long. It was a refreshing change to the depression tone of Hogwarts since the Tri-Wizard tournament, Cedric's death and the rise of Voldemort. Of course there was Umbridge. No one was too happy with her around.
Still, she couldn't let the weight of the whole world stamp out her brilliant mood. It was a rare find. She let it use her as it willed before it left, and she returned a nervous, anxious, frustrated witch.
Potions came swiftly. She was ready for the stir it'd cause in the Gryffindor House. She held her chin high as she took a seat next to Daphne, on the Slytherin side. Neville's bottom jaw dropped.
Daphne Greengrass smiled. She grabbed out her Potions text and placed it in line with Hermione's atop their shared table. The witch asked after Hermione's day which she reciprocated in polite curtesy. They talked softly to themselves as the rest of their houses filtered in, eyeing them very directly. Gryffindor was not subtle in its shock. Their mouths hanged low.
Slytherin was surprised but had become accustomed to her presence thanks to Malfoy. Pansy was the most haunted by the fact that Hermione crossed the lines. Her eyes grew twice their size, jaw clenched shut, and her feet slammed against the stone floor until she reached Goyle's desk and tossed down her things in a very obvious hissy fit.
At her side, Daphne snickered quietly.
Then stumbled in Ron and Harry. Ronald moved to an open desk on the Gryffindor side of the class. It was different for Harry who'd noticed her placement. He remained fixed in the aisle with his eyes on her, with question. She forced a smile. It hurt to see his confusion.
There was a noted sigh. "Come on, mate." It was Ron's low mumble.
Draco Malfoy strode through the classroom with an all too delighted look on his face. It was to taunted Harry. She glared very sharply at his stupid face.
Daphne shoved her shoulder. "Ignore the wizards, Hermione."
"If I can get along with both of them, then they could at least pretend to get along. Or for Godric's sake, ignore the other. Why must they go through this charade?"
"They're wizards. Think of them like cats. Each one has a scent mark on you and their vying to fight over whose is more dominant. Draco or Harry. Who has the bigger wand, so to speak. Since you're not a bleeding cat and can make your own choices, they've got to do this awkward dance to see whom you're subtly choosing more."
"Honestly, that's just barmy."
"Duh," Daphne enunciated clearly.
A dark wraith entered the damp classroom. The candles heightened their glow. Shadows grew against the thick stone walls. Coldness sank through the room once the door of the class was closed shut; the warmth of the corridor was all that gave a bearable temperature.
Hermione shivered. She pulled her robes closer to her body. The dungeons were so cold. How did the Slytherin's live in it all year long?
"Miss Granger," said the wraith of flowing black: Professor Snape. He favored the darker colors just as Malfoy did. It was all he wore.
"Yes, sir."
His dark eyes examined her with a pointed edge. It stabbed through her confidence. Her joy of the day was punctured and drained slowly.
The silence of the room gaped the hole open deeper.
"Has your inflated ego grown since we've last met that you intend to take over the Slytherin's with your insufferable sense of self or have you had a sudden change of heart?" It was said with a nasty tone. It implied that she desired to disrupt her classmates by invading their space. Which was an outright lie.
Pansy Parkinson snickered at the professor's statement. The rest of Slytherin remained quiet.
The lack of reaction had the professor twitch the thin brow above his eyes. Black eyes landed at Draco. It was not a secret that Draco and Pansy ran their peers. While one had laughed, the other stayed silent.
It was not beyond the notice of their Head of House when all the Slytherins accepted Hermione within their ranks. He had to have noticed. Draco was a star in his house. A diva. Everything gravitated toward him. Including teachers. Professor Snape knew that she was in the ranks of Slytherin quite commonly.
"I am with my potions partner, professor."
She felt Ron and Harry's eyes on her. In fact, they were accompanied with all the Gryffindors. She fought the threat of a blush. One weakness and the professor would slaughter her until she rejoined her ranks.
"I see," Professor Snape said coolly.
The quiet settled his debate. Hermione guessed he'd wanted to cause a stir within Slytherin, perhaps let them have a few quick jabs at a muggleborn in their House, before he commanded her back and withdrew points for disrupting class. The outcome was much nicer.
He gained his stride once more as he spoke of the upcoming segment of their class. It covered venom antidotes, which Hermione was keen to learn. Venom was almost always deadly unless treated with an antidote. It was easy enough to stumble upon a plant or animal with a venom. She deemed it a necessary skill to learn. Practical to know thoroughly.
There was a wild chance that Ronald or Harry might need a venom antidote. Actually, now that she considered it, it was a miracle they hadn't needed one already.
"Fresh ingredients make a more potent brew," the professor revealed. "That is why. Today. We will find a wild grow of one of our ingredients and each pick a week's worth of the ingredient for our class. Each pair will be responsible for their own ingredients. Fail to collect enough will result in failure of the lesson. No exceptions."
The class remained silent.
"As for how we are to find them," his lips suddenly curled at the corner, "the class shall be in charge of finding and identifying the plant. None shall be picked until a clear identification is done. Failure to find, identify, and secure a patch large enough for the entire class with result in failure. For the entire class."
That was quite a punishment. There was no way to know for sure if there were even patches large enough for the entire class, much less finding them. The Hogwarts school grounds were massive. Acres upon acres.
It was just lucky that Neville was a Gryffindor. He loved Herbology. He was bound to know locations on school grounds where the plants might grow wild. At least, he better. Or else all the time he spent in the greenhouse was useless.
The class bundled up their bags and satchels and jumpers and followed the professor out of the heavy wooden doors into the blistery green of the school grounds. It was a windy day. Dreary, too.
Daphne and Hermione walked together through the wave. Neither knew where to look to find the wild grows. Daphne said Herbology was her least favorite class. It wasn't Hermione's least favorite (divination took that place), but it was not her strongest either.
Ron and Harry lined themselves with the girls and started to ask if Hermione had gloves. She sighed.
"I swear if your heads weren't attached…" she rummaged through her bag.
"We know. We'd have lost them by now," Harry replied.
"It's not our fault," Ron pointed out. "If he'd have told us we were going outside, I might have brought mine."
She transfigured a few of her things into gloves for her friends. They thanked her quietly and slid them on their hands.
"It wouldn't hurt you to carry them," she snipped. "It is autumn after all."
"Or magically thread them into the sleeves of your robes," Daphne offered.
The two Gryffindor wizard's eyes bulged. They seemed to have forgotten Hermione had a new potions partner. A Slytherin. It was a rare occurrence to have polite conversation with a Slytherin. Not even rare. It'd never happened.
Ron averted his eyes from Daphne. Hermione watched it rather curiously. What was that for?
"Is that what you do, Daphne?" Hermione asked lightly, in an attempt to keep the conversation going and her boys not so nervous.
Daphne's thick glasses fell down her face. She pushed them up quickly. "Not me. My younger sister could never keep track of anything so my mum would magically stitch her gloves and scarf to her coat so they'd always be there when she needed them. Course, she was four then."
A light blush tinted Harry and Ron's noses.
"What a brilliant idea," Hermione said.
They spoke with as much effort as had ever been witnessed before. For some reason, Harry and Ron had to force the words out. It was odd since herself and Daphne were at ease. But the two wizards stumbled around a conversation rather awkwardly. Harry would let sentences die right in the middle, without an ending. Then was Ronald. He'd speak so softly that they'd ask ten times what he said. It was embarrassing. Hermione thought to smack some sense into their head when Daphne's attention was snared by something else other than her friends.
"Here." A voice split the air. Everyone knew who it belonged to. "Dittony."
Malfoy stood by his find. The dark robes of the professor fluttered in the wind as he appraised the Dittony patch.
It looked the part. Plus, it was large in size. The class would easily have enough for their potions.
"Excellent, Mister Malfoy. You've found a proper grow," Professor Snape proclaimed. "Your class is blessed to have a populated grow so close to the castle."
Scotland took a bit of pity upon the students outside in its weather. Clouds parted overhead. As the students descended to the Dittony, a ray of sunshine warmed their skin. Hermione relished to splash of warmth through the bland stretch of cold lawn.
Daphne and Hermione took the opposite end to start their collection. Just before she bent her knee, Hermione looked around to take stock of the class. Malfoy was at the opposite end. They caught each other's eye for a moment.
"What are you doing with Draco?" Daphne suddenly asked.
Hermione gasped. "Pardon?"
Had she seen their eye contact? Did she suspect something?
"You're smarter than this. Whatever it is. You have to have at least three ways to get rid of him, and that is just a bare minimum. Knowing you, you've thought of ten," the witch said. "So why are you still here?"
Goodness. That was not a question she was prepared for. Hermione ran her hands down her pants although the sweat in her palms was contained by her gloves. Her heart jumped to a thundering pace and a heat came to her under arms.
The blonde witch paused her collection and appraised her. "Do you like him?"
"What?" Hermione breathed.
"Do you fancy him?"
"That's preposterous."
She was suddenly aware of her voice. It sounded so shrill and emotional.
"I know," Daphne stated. "But that doesn't make it any less possible."
Hermione focused her eyes on the dittony. Pick. Pick. Pick the dittony.
"Yes. It does. Gryffindors and Slytherins don't mix."
"He doesn't seem to think so." Her eyes motioned upward where Malfoy obviously watched them as he worked and then shoved Neville out of the way. Hermione refused to stare. Her eyes went right back down to her foraging. Wasn't class more important that boys?
Her only reply was, "That's mental."
"Aren't all wizards?" Daphne snickered.
It was a sign from Merlin himself when Ron waltzed up not a second later, hands in his pockets, an awkward stance to his build. She near felt her jaw fall from her mouth as he stood there.
"Hey Mione," he said. His eyes then turned to the witch at her side. He then cleared his throat, hands still shoved in his pockets and shoulders hunched high. "Daphne, right?"
She nodded. "And you're Ron."
Then. He smiled. It was small, not toothy or overzealous. Just natural.
It was freaky.
"Right."
Hermione brushed the grass and pieces of dittony leaves from her robes as she stood. "Daphne hated us to fight over partners, so she offered to be mine for potions."
His head bobbed. Like he understood.
"Oi. You like Quidditch?"
The blonde witch nodded and said she watched every match.
"I play soon, you know. Wait. Well, you probably know that. I play for Gryffindor. Keeper."
It was painful to watch the witch blink and say, "Why would I know that?"
It took all the wind out of Ron's sails. A sure sign of panic crossed his face.
"Right. Well. See you around," he said and walked off.
Hermione went after him. "What is the matter with you? You're acting like you've never talked before."
She rubbed his shoulder gently. It used to help ease his worries. Though it did little to help this time.
"I can't do this. It's too much pressure," he said frantically. "I'm going to resign."
"It's only a game, Ronald."
Ron suddenly pointed a finger. "You know the whole school sees them. None of them forget a thing. I can't handle it. They all look at me and wish me luck. Luck? I need a bloody miracle to beat Slytherin."
She frowned. It was so sad to see him a mess like that.
"It's going to be alright," she said. Her arms wrapped around him in an embrace. "You'll do great. Just keep focused and don't lose your nerve."
"Yeah." He swallowed. It did not convince her that he was calmed.
What else could she say?
"Oh! And trust your stomach. Or was it your intestines? Oh well. Trust whatever digestive organ that helps you make decisions."
He groaned and rubbed his palms into his eyes. "It's your gut, Mione. Trust your gut."
"Gut isn't a proper term for anything specific."
"I know." He sighed with a soft chuckle. "So you've said."
The class started to disperse from the dittony. Half were already on their way back to the castle.
Harry waved at both his friends. "Hermione. Ron. Let's go."
They hurried after him. Both smiled a bit. Perhaps her words of encouragement helped. She walked arm in arm with Harry and Ron as they rattled off excitement over lunch. Ron was starving. Hermione herself was left hungry from breakfast with the Slytherins. Harry avoided breakfast altogether and was famished by the time the meal rolled around.
It felt the first time in a long time that Hogwarts was like years before. They smiled and laughed and joked and ate. Neville joined them. Ginny was there, too. Seamus and Dean invited themselves inside the conversation halfway through and never left after that.
There was talk of Quidditch, which Ron remained quiet. Then it turned to Viktor Krum, his professional Quidditch team being 'one of the best' in all of history which Hermione thought was exaggerated. Somehow it turned to a party plan in the Gryffindor tower after the match which they all declared Gryffindor a winner. Hermione pointed out that the Slytherin team was rather good. There was no way to know for certain that they'd win. It was answered with a table full of angry glares. She digressed from it all together.
It was a losing battle to fight with the whole of Gryffindor over the nature of games. Some are won. Some lost. That was inevitable. And after firsthand witnessing the collection of the Slytherin team, Hermione knew it would be a fight for the best.
After lunch, the boys disappeared to their Quidditch practice which had to be done elsewhere since Slytherin had the Pitch reserved almost every day until the match. Hermione went to her dorm, collected her study materials, gave Drogon a treat, and headed down to meet Malfoy in the Great Hall.
She joined him at the Slytherin table. He never sat at the Gryffindor table. Ever.
Malfoy had the same books as she. Hers were placed next to his.
"Great minds think alike, eh?" She was in a great mood and didn't try to hide it.
Life was great. She had the DA, Harry was back to normal, and she had snog sessions with Malfoy. It was all the best. Pansy was low on the Slytherin totem pole, magically put back in her place and Daphne was a new acquaintance that she actually enjoyed.
Of course, there was the dilemma of Malfoy's feelings. Hermione opted for a little denial. She pushed those thoughts away with a happy smile on her face. Into the shadows they went.
"Gee, pet. You seem rather cheerful. Anyone in particular been cheering you up lately?" His voice was less pleasant than she expected.
"Being as I am your pet, wouldn't you be the one responsible?" She grinned.
Malfoy's shoulders eased in their sockets. "What the hell is with you, Granger?"
"What?" She shrugged. "I'm happy. You've seen me happy before."
He blinked. "Not like this."
"Then you should be celebrating," she said with a teasing brow.
"How do you figure?"
It was not nearly the same amount of fun when he wasn't in a similar mood. He'd been so just that morning. What had changed since then?
"I've finally adjusted to that massive ego of yours and have thrived," she teased. When he didn't smile, she rolled her eyes. "What is with you? You were all playful this morning at breakfast with the hilarious assumption I'd stroke anything of yours and now you're pouting."
His face scrunched. "I am not pouting."
Hermione sighed and conceded. Whatever his deal was, she wouldn't feed it. She dipped her quill to ink and started to scratch in a legible scrawl about the benefits of venom antidotes and their various techniques of brewing.
Malfoy had continued his own work but paused. "I don't seem to remember you believing it hilarious at breakfast."
Her eyes popped up instantly. He remained focused on his work. His hand moved fluidly over the paper, perfectly calligraphy as he wrote out his own potion's assignment.
"If I recall, you were open it."
Her eyebrows near flew off her face. "Open?"
Malfoy smirked. "I'd been under the impression a bit of privacy and you'd have warmed to the idea quickly."
Apparently, the mood had been asleep.
"You must have me mistaken," she gasped. "For a witch who is swayed by the tides of your changing moods."
"Are you not?"
The way he said it. It made her stop.
She remembered that tone from the locker room out at the Pitch. It was vulnerable and tense. That way made her insides melt with unhinged desire she hated to be fed, but loved the way it felt with a sharp hunger
Hermione lowered her voice. "Only a little."
His smile consumed his face even as he worked. It was a delicious sight of brilliant white teeth lined in a shapely mouth. His lips were thin and pale but expressed him so animatedly. She was drawn to that part of him. Where all his walls dropped down to the fun, teasing, arrogant inside who kissed and held her and made her laugh.
They worked on the assignments with their typical rhythm. He started using her ink at the same time as her, so they had to fight over it. In the midst of it, her quill dragged across the back of his hand to which he responded by poking her forearm. His ink made a large black dot.
She playfully narrowed her eyes as she dipped her quill in the ink. He smirked down from his entitled height with a familiar crinkle to his eyes. Yet he allowed the fight to cease and the homework to continue.
An owl flew through the Hall not long after. The large midnight black owl dropped a package to the table. It stepped over to Malfoy's side and rubbed its beak against his cheek.
Hermione giggled behind her hand as he tried to avoid the animal's clear affection of him.
He fed the owl a piece of a biscuit and off it flew.
The package was stuffed full of wrapped treats, little sweets and various things for his pet cat. He left the contents spilled in the center as he opened the letter.
It held a dainty, gentle, proper handwriting.
Draco Malfoy raised the letter to his face and read through the lines of black ink. His fingers flexed once. Hermione stole a glance at his face. It was not cheery. In fact, it was tense.
Her eyes caught a glimpse of the writing. There within the writing was the word "girlfriend" and "mudblood".
She focused back to her work with a struggle to keep her eyes a normal size. A letter from Draco's mother about her, a muggleborn, Gryffindor witch she thought as his girlfriend. It was only for her imagination what it said about her.
If his mother knew, Lucius was well aware of it, too.
Her intestines twisted in discomfort as she sat there with a great intensity upon her homework. She felt a dribble of sweat fall down her spine. The cheer that once filled her entire being was now anxiety.
Thoughts flew through her at millions of kilometers a second as she tried to sort through. Did he tell them? Did they learn from some outside source? Did they approve of his mudblood pet? If they did, what was the point?
Wait. What if it was their instruction that led him to entrap her as his personal pet?
Hermione Granger was reminded of Voldemort. The Malfoy's – Lucius in particular – were known followers and close at hand to the Dark Lord's wishes. There were darker plans afoot. Malfoy must have been made a part of them.
She scooted to the back edge of her seat, the farther she could manage to get away from him.
Out the corner of her eye, she noticed something. His fingers. They pushed the sweet treats forward. Toward her. Their shiny cellophane wrappers were atop her parchment.
His eyes continued to scan through the letter's contents. When he finally set it down, his face was not so playful. Their banter was over. As was her cheery mood.
"Bad news?" She asked in the hopes of seeming ignorant of the letter and it's upset.
"Hm?" He roused from whatever thought he'd had. "Uh, no. Just usual questions from a boy's mother. Am I studying? Am I having fun? She can't wait to hear about my first Quidditch match."
It was so convincing that Hermione almost believed him.
He pushed another sweet forward. She looked at him with question.
"I've got loads from her already," he explained.
She took a single piece. Malfoy rolled his eyes.
"Take them all, pet. They're for you."
There were so many candies she had to stow them in her satchel. She hadn't much of a sweet tooth. The treats might last her an entire year.
Her fingers landed on a piece of fabric when she'd put the last of the sweets away. She'd almost forgotten. A blush burned her face as she pulled the black jumper out and placed it on the table.
The white embroidered dragon was right at the chest, visible in the position she laid it. His eyes noticed it casually.
"If you wanted access to my bedchamber, all you had to do was ask."
Hermione bit her lip and tucked a piece of hair away. "Drogon dragged it up the staircase. I don't know where he found it."
He smirked. "Brightest witch of the age and that's the story you've come up with? Pathetic, Granger. I expected more."
"The truth isn't a story. He really did bring it to me."
Malfoy shrugged. "Then he wanted it to be yours."
Like homework was more important than a returned article of clothing from an opposite sex friend, Malfoy turned back to his parchment and reading his textbook. Hermione's resolve to stay calm in the light of shock was overcome. Her jaw practically dislocated.
Through fallen strands of his straight blonde hair, she saw him appraise her.
She groaned through a chuckle. "I hate you," she said softly. "You planned this. You gave it to Drogon so that I'd have to return it so you could make a quip. Go on. Don't be shy."
"Well you just ruin the fun when you point it out, pet."
"You're unbelievable."
"Admit it. You like the idea of wearing my things," he said. "Now that you call yourself one of them."
Hermione hid the shame on her face with her hand.
"Go on, pet. Don't be shy. Tell me how you like being called one of my things."
She shook her head. "I've never said such a ridiculous thing."
His eyes narrowed. "You're such a bloody liar."
"Am not!" She gasped.
"Don't play innocent, Granger. Higgs told me what you said to him." There was no containing the pleasure on his face. It ate her up. She wanted to run out all the anxiety she felt, knowing just how vulnerable she felt. She'd made herself one of his 'pureblood' things. It was possible he'd punish her for it. But the devilish look in his eye said different. "Go on. Say it. Tell me what you said."
Her hands clamped over her cheeky grin. "Never," she declared from behind.
"Oh, darling. You've gone red. Could it be, me, that's gotten you all in a stir?"
If she'd thought her jaw dislocated before, it was definitely snapped then. He was teasing her! But less in a mean way, and more in a…playful way? He enjoyed it. His lips couldn't stop smiling.
Pride? Victory? Triumph?
He danced his eyebrow as she stared, unwilling to show the embarrassment and glee in her features. But as he made another face, she chortled loudly.
Malfoy ate up the expression. "If only I could take a photograph…"
"I'd know what you'd do with it," she taunted.
It was his time to be surprised. The pleasure jumped to pure disbelief. It opened up the opportunity to laugh at his face. Which she took full advantage of.
"Oh, darling. You've gone red," she mocked lightly.
He tried his best to hide his smile in false anger. She saw right through it.
"Loosen up, pet. Don't you like the idea of me knowing what you'd do with my picture?" She dared say.
The statement was past the mark of what she'd usually feel comfortable saying in his presence, but she needed to loosen a little. This way, it made him anxious too.
Malfoy recovered like the raised gentlemen he was born to be and adjusted his necktie. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."
Her chuckles died down to slight hiccups as she tried to bring her attention back to her study hall materials. She'd allowed herself to get out of hand. It was time to come down.
"Of course," she said seriously.
"I'm more of an in-person type wizard," he continued on.
She was aware of the hitch in his breath as he spoke. She, too, was on the edge of her seat, fears of him and dark plans forgotten, solely invested in the moment with him. Just as she'd been in the Quidditch locker room. Or in the corridor during patrol.
It was all she could think about.
"I'm not one for imagination," Malfoy said.
When the study hall was done, Malfoy was pulled to his Quidditch practice and that time left Hermione with nothing but an active imagination. She remembered the way he pulled her against him. The needy grasp of his fingers in her hair. Her core shuddered. She liked that.
The feel of his erection against her belly was less intimidating that she pictured it to be as a young witch with vague ideas of lust. She, herself, had very few hormone surges until the proposition he gave her. It'd wrapped her body in a taut embrace of tension and desire. She hated how much she liked it.
Part of her felt a traitor. Malfoy was the enemy. He was not to be trusted. Not to be liked. Hell, he tormented her for years about her blood status.
Something made her not believe those things. She thought through them as rationally as possible and logic said that he despised muggleborns and yet there was a faint voice, from outside her mind buried deep in the center of her body, that declared it false. He liked her. She knew he did.
That was why he toyed with her carefully. There were times where he was given the chance for total humiliation. It was what he strived for as a second year. Now, he let the moments slide. He gave them no second glance either. Malfoy brought himself close against her body when it should repel him away. He touched her. Purebloods like him believed the touch of a muggleborn was dirty, yet he never washed her off of him. He licked his lips to savor every drop of her kiss.
Godric, when he did that. Something unfurled inside her. It surged straight to her knickers in an unladylike way.
If anyone knew how much she wanted him, they'd kill her. Or curse her.
She had to find Ginny. She had to talk it out with someone. Some witch who might understand how it felt to be so turned on by a wizard so bad for them.
The Galleon coin in her pocket vibrated. It was a calling card to the DA. They called to assemble. She rushed to her dorm, donned the black jumper that was Malfoy's with a cheeky smile and strode down to the Room of Requirement for a session with her friends.