Chapter 2: The curse

Hermione watched with curiosity as Malfoy moved away from her and dragged himself to the sofa. He collapsed onto it with a defeated attitude, burying his face in one hand while the other continued to hold the sheet at his waist. The Gryffindor gathered her courage and cautiously walked towards him, sitting down very slowly beside him. Malfoy's body subtly turned to the side opposite from her, which Hermione interpreted as a reflexive act. As if unconsciously, he wanted to protect himself from the threat her presence represented, especially now that she was about to uncover his secret. A terrible one, judging by the way it seemed to be eating him up from the inside. Hermione waited tensely, even controlling her own breathing so as not to disturb the perfect silence that had settled in the room. Her heart was pounding wildly within her chest. Adrenaline coursed through her body. She was probably one of the few people in the castle to see Draco Malfoy as a slave to his deepest demons, dominated by the darkest thoughts of his heart. Until that very moment, she had never believed he had one. But there he was, and although his slightly turned face was sharp even in the darkness, Hermione saw… Hermione felt that at that moment he was delicate, like a feather in the air, being a slow victim of gravity until he touched the ground. The silence stretched on for several more minutes. It seemed like he was prolonging the moment as much as he could, but she did not show impatience or annoyance at his muteness. She had all the time that first night to listen to what he had to say. At one point, Malfoy hunched over and stifled a groan that seemed full of pain. Only then did he turn towards her and look at her. He looked her in the eyes with a hint of vulnerability, and Hermione felt her own chest tighten at his pain. This gaze lasted only a couple of seconds before he looked away to a point behind her, lost in thought.

"My father," he finally said, his voice barely brushing the silence, "works at the Ministry. The family's name and wealth make him one of the most influential people in the wizarding world, as you probably know. Who doesn't know Lucius Malfoy, right?" She nodded her head when he fell silent, subtly urging him to continue. "About a year ago, he started investigating Muggle-borns working at the Ministry of Magic with the intention of proving that they are not the best choice for positions of responsibility, not when there are witches and wizards who have grown up with magic and are more qualified than they are to work for and with the magical world..."

"That sounds more like a smear campaign against Muggle-borns than anything else," Hermione pointed out, speaking for the first time in a long time. Her voice sounded annoyed. He gave her an irritated look, though with some reservations.

"You know, people like you are not as good as you think."

Hermione felt slightly offended but managed to keep her voice calm.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because it's a woman like you, a Muggle-born, who did this to me," he replied. Just as he finished speaking, something seemed to cause him a wave of searing pain that made him shudder. Hermione was startled when a growl laden with what seemed to be anguish climbed up the Slytherin's throat without him being able to contain it.

"What did she do to you?" she then asked in a barely audible voice.

"She cursed me," he confessed after a few seconds with his eyes tightly closed, as if trying to control the pain. "My father took her job away, and she decided that she would take my dignity."

Hermione tried to piece it together, to understand what his story had to do with what he had been doing under the sheets when he thought she was asleep, but she couldn't.

"I don't understand," she finally whispered, starting to feel a bit anxious all of a sudden.

Malfoy sighed heavily.

"That woman cursed me so that I have to... so that I must..." He paused to take a breath. "So that I must 'satisfy myself.'" Hermione's eyes widened. "And before you say anything, I know what you're thinking; what a curse, right? How can someone try to cause harm through pleasure? The problem is that each time it happens, I get a little weaker." Hermione watched as he opened and closed his fist repeatedly, a tormented expression on his face.

"And what happens if you don't... you know, if you don't do it?"

"I die," he said, and the weight of his words fell on Hermione's thoughts like a stone.

"Are you dying now?"

"My body is dying every second I feel this need and don't satisfy it. I can already feel cramps in my hands."

"Does this happen every day?" she asked, unable to control her curiosity.

"Yes, but the timing is unpredictable. It can happen in the morning, in the afternoon, in the middle of the night... in classes, in the Great Hall, during Quidditch practice..."

"Do your parents know?"

"Do you think this is something I'd want to talk about with my parents?" he snapped, and then, in a less aggressive voice, he added, "Professor Snape is helping me. He's trying to find a way to break the curse before it kills me."

"Does Dumbledore know about this?"

"Do you think if he did, he would have chained you to me twenty-four hours a day for an entire week?"

Hermione blushed at the obviousness of it. She was grateful that the room was dark enough to hide the redness of her cheeks.

"Why don't you ask for his help? He's the most powerful wizard in the magical world; surely he would know what to do."

"Granger, do you really think I would tell the headmaster about this? There's no way to do it without incriminating my father too." He fell silent for a moment, realizing he might have said too much. "It's possible that my father used false information to get all those Muggle-borns wrongfully dismissed from the Ministry." Hermione pressed her lips together at this, disgusted. "No, Dumbledore is my last option in this."

The Gryffindor found herself surprised by how Malfoy was trying to protect his father, even though what was happening to him was his father's fault. She tried to process all this while the boy hunched over again, breathing heavily.

"There's something I still don't understand. Why did that woman take revenge on you? You had nothing to do with her wrongful dismissal, did you? Why didn't she go after your father?"

Malfoy jumped to his feet.

"Enough!" he interrupted her, his voice louder than necessary and echoing in the room. "Enough," he repeated, this time in a lower tone. "I don't want to talk about this anymore. I can't. Ah."

Hermione also stood up. Until now, she hadn't noticed the bluish tint his skin was taking on. The dark circles under his eyes had deepened, now two dark shadows over his cheekbones, which stood out more than ever on his face. She watched him gasp for air and stagger. She hurried to grab him by the elbow to help him into bed. She watched him a little longer, equally scared and concerned.

"Do what you have to do," she told him before lying back down on the sofa, this time turning her back to him and covering herself with the blanket over her head.

She didn't want to think about what Malfoy was doing a few meters away from her, but she couldn't get it out of her head either. Damn it, now she didn't know if those sounds she was hearing were real or if she was imagining them.

She tried to change the direction of her thoughts, but couldn't get past what he had just told her. Lucius Malfoy. Muggle-borns. Strange curses. She couldn't help but think that there was a piece missing to complete the puzzle... He was hiding something from her; he hadn't told her the whole truth. But how bad could that part of the story be? Why omit it when what he had already told her was horrible enough?

She kept musing over the reasons that witch might have had to take revenge on Draco instead of his father when, a few minutes later, she heard a faint moan, and then a sigh.

She wished with all her might that she could fall asleep, but she couldn't close her eyes for what felt like an eternity.

Hermione's unconscious mind forced her to wake up with the dim light of the first rays of morning sun. She had barely rested for two or three hours before that moment, but she knew she couldn't afford to laze around... Not when she was an unwelcome intruder in the snakes' common room. She needed to be alert before the Slytherins started to wake up. She yawned, got up, and reached for her beaded bag. The fact that she hadn't showered the night before, combined with the unpleasant scene she had witnessed with Malfoy, made her feel filthy. How long could they go without washing up? This question circled her mind as she began to undress to put on her Gryffindor uniform when, at one point, Malfoy made a noise, and she turned to look at him. She felt a wave of relief when she saw he was still asleep, that it had only been a slightly louder snore than usual.

She averted her gaze from him as soon as she realized she had been staring and sat on the sofa, waiting for the others to start appearing. It was early, but she couldn't tell how early.

After a long while, Pansy Parkinson's shrill voice echoed from the other side of the room.

"Damn it, Potter! I told you not to look!"

"Sorry, sorry!" her friend exclaimed right after.

Draco Malfoy stretched out on the mattress and opened his eyes heavily. The shouting had woken him, so he glanced irritably in the direction where the other punished pair was and, realizing he couldn't see them, turned his gaze to Hermione.

They shared an intense moment before looking away.

"If you say a single word..." he muttered under his breath.

"I promised I wouldn't," she replied, slightly annoyed that he doubted her word.

If there was one thing that characterized her, besides her determination in her studies, it was her honesty. Everyone knew that, unlike a Slytherin, anyone could trust a Gryffindor to keep their promises.

He simply said a curt "fine," and Hermione waited for him to get dressed before heading out of the common room to the Great Hall. Harry, Pansy, Ron, and Blaise soon appeared there as well.

"Oh, come on. What's with the long faces?" asked Zabini as he sat next to Lavender, who gave him a look of repulsion and moved away from him. It was curious to see that he was handling it the best of the six. Now he even addressed the Gryffindors with full confidence, as if they had been friends forever. "Come on, let's cheer up. Got any anecdotes from the first night together?" Ron looked at him with some curiosity but also cautiously. Blaise didn't wait for the others to respond. "Okay, I'll start." He paused to keep everyone in suspense for a few seconds. Then, in a calm voice, he said, "Weasley farted last night."

Hermione's friend's skin turned a scarlet red, similar to the emblem on his robe.

"What? That's not true!" he protested.

"Oh, it is. And it was one of those long ones; the kind that last five seconds and smell for an hour."

Most people around them laughed at what he said, but Ron opted to kick him hard under the table.

"Ouch!" Blaise complained. "You better not hit me again, Weasley. We Slytherins can be really vindictive." Then he turned to Pansy. "Is Potter also a fart machine in bed?"

She rolled her eyes.

"No. At least not that I've heard. But he is a peeper," she said, raising her voice a bit at the end of the sentence, aware that many would hear what she said. She seemed satisfied to have achieved her purpose when several Gryffindor girls glanced at Harry sideways.

"For the last time! I thought you were done dressing!"

"What a good excuse to see me in my underwear, Potter," she retorted. "Truly splendid."

"Let the sarcasm aside, will you?"

"Aside? You mean where you were supposed to be looking instead of at the lace of my underwear?"

Harry growled and pressed his lips tightly together until they became a thin line, his face turning the same color as his friend's, like a chameleon. Zabini laughed uproariously before looking at the last pair.

"So, we have a loose sphincter and a peeper so far," he said mockingly. "Anything happen to you two last night?"

Hermione felt the exact moment when Malfoy glanced at her from the corner of his eye. The girl shook her head.

"Nothing worth mentioning."

"Oh, come on! Nothing?"

"No, Zabini, nothing," she replied, then gathered her things and stood up. "Shall we go?"

Draco Malfoy followed her, for the first time, without a word of protest.

It seemed everyone had agreed to go to Defense Against the Dark Arts, despite the Gryffindors not being scheduled to be there. They had to explain to the professor why several students who didn't belong to the assigned houses were in the classroom, and although he wasn't entirely convinced, he allowed them to stay. This finished spreading the word among the students about what was happening with these three strange pairs. Christopher, the Ravenclaw from the boys' bathroom the previous day, was there. He and his friends stared blatantly at Hermione and Draco as they entered the class. Fortunately, the class was relatively engaging and ended before they realized it.

"I'll see you later... I hope," Hermione said to her friends as they left. Malfoy and she had decided to go to Transfiguration class, while Harry, Ron, and the other two had opted for Divination.

Daphne Greengrass passed them, not without bumping her shoulder into Hermione's with more force than a mere accident would have caused. She didn't even glance at Malfoy as she passed.

Both of them stared at her back as she walked away. The movement of her long legs combined with the sway of her hips gave the impression of presiding over a fashion show. However, she seemed to do it effortlessly, Hermione dared to say, without even realizing it. Her long, straight hair waved gracefully above her lower back.

"She knows, doesn't she?" Hermione asked despite already knowing the answer. "About your... your situation. That's why she was so upset when you explained the punishment."

He rolled his eyes. "Of course she knows. Who do you think covered for me when... when it happened? She was supposed to be my girlfriend."

"Isn't she anymore?"

"I'm not so sure now," he grumbled.

After that brief conversation, they walked in silence, taking full advantage of the five meters they were allowed to be apart until they reached the Transfiguration classroom. McGonagall, who was already there, nodded and urged them to take their seats.

For Hermione, it was a relief to escape and forget about the situation she was in when she focused on the classes. The punishment hadn't affected her determination in her studies; that morning, she had already written five scrolls front and back. She had noticed Malfoy rolling his eyes at her enthusiasm for taking notes but had deliberately decided to ignore it. She was still waiting to see if he would ask for her notes to study.

Lunch passed with Zabini trying to lift everyone's spirits. Despite Hermione's inability to avoid feeling miserable, she couldn't deny that the boy was starting to grow on her... if only little by little. She didn't deny that, like a good Slytherin, he had enjoyed bothering her and her friends for the sheer pleasure of it. But after the short time seeing his true self, she was sure that most of the time, he only participated in the teasing out of his friendship with Malfoy. It didn't surprise her; Malfoy was a person whose power of persuasion was such that he could get anyone to move a mountain in his name.

Pansy Parkinson's personality, on the other hand, was more similar to the blond boy's. Hermione saw her as more calculating, colder, more... snake-like. But clearly less control-hungry than Malfoy, more indifferent in a sense.

"You and Daph broke up?" asked the girl Hermione had been analyzing while eating the stew on her plate.

More indifferent, but not less observant.

"You can ask her," Draco replied. "And on the way, tell me what she said."

"Relationship drama?" she said again, this time with a mocking smile on her face. Indifferent, observant, and cynical. "I'll ask, but you'll owe me."

Also self-interested.

After witnessing that conversation, Hermione could assert that Pansy Parkinson was the living image of a pure Slytherin; she was observant enough to find anyone's weak point at any moment, and cunning enough to turn the situation to her advantage.

She was also very intelligent.

Harry interrupted her musings by addressing Malfoy directly, which inevitably caught everyone's attention.

"I know we're natural enemies and all that, Malfoy, but if you want, I can ask her," he offered, and almost immediately, five pairs of eyes were on him with curiosity. "I won't ask for anything in return, and therefore, you won't be in debt to anyone."

Hermione thought she could guess his intentions behind the smile he gave the Slytherin girl. He hadn't taken kindly to being accused of being a pervert in the morning, so now he was trying to annoy her in the afternoon. Pansy Parkinson looked at him with barely contained irritation.

"Careful, Potter, you're going to reach number one on my list of most odious people."

"Wasn't I already?"

He gave her another bright, satisfied smile and continued eating his roasted potatoes.

Draco Malfoy shook his head, unable to believe he was witnessing such a tense and senseless conversation. Zabini was even piling more chicken onto Ron's plate. Ron Weasley had turned crimson.

"Let's get out of here," he muttered to Hermione, who took one last bite of her food and stood up to follow him. She would have liked to have dessert, but she was much less inclined to start a discussion. When they were far enough from the crowd in the Great Hall, Malfoy added, "We have a few minutes before the next class starts. I'm going to inform Snape about..."

He left the sentence hanging. Under other circumstances, Hermione would have protested, but she knew she would soon find out what was on his mind, so she decided to simply wait.

In the same deserted dungeon corridor as the day before, Draco Malfoy knocked on Severus Snape's office door. The professor opened it reluctantly; he wasn't expecting anyone that day.

"Professor," the boy began, "I've just come to tell you that we can continue with the sessions. I had no choice but to... Well, anyway, she knows now."

"Indeed?" Snape responded in a chilly voice. "And how much does she know?"

"Enough," Malfoy replied quickly, almost insolently.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. Did this confirm her suspicion that he hadn't told her the whole truth? She didn't have much time to ponder it.

"Tomorrow at this time," the professor snapped, then shut the door in their faces.

Hermione glanced at Malfoy, who seemed unperturbed by Snape's abruptness. As they walked back to their next class, she couldn't help but feel a mixture of curiosity and frustration.

"What are those sessions about?" she finally asked, unable to contain herself any longer.

Malfoy sighed, clearly reluctant to divulge more information. "It's complicated, Granger. Snape is trying to find a way to break the curse, but it's not easy. There are different aspects he needs to explore, and... well, let's just say it involves a lot of trial and error."

"Does it involve...?" she hesitated, not wanting to sound intrusive, "What happened last night?"

He shot her a sharp look but then nodded. "Yes, it does. But that's all you need to know for now."

Before she could press further, they reached their next class. Hermione couldn't help but feel a growing sense of unease. She had always prided herself on her ability to solve problems, to find answers. But this situation with Malfoy was testing her patience and her determination. For now, she would have to be content with the pieces of the puzzle she had and hope that in time, the full picture would reveal itself.

The day was coming to an end. They had a minor conflict about which classes to attend, but after arguing for a while, they had —miraculously— reached an agreement; one day, one of them would choose, and the next day, the other would. This way, they would avoid having to fight over the new schedule. At least now they could choose between two classes each time.

By the last hour, the energy of the students had plummeted, especially when Snape decided to give a theoretical class, setting the cauldrons aside. He dictated the ingredients of a new potion in a tense voice when Hermione started to notice that Malfoy was clenching and unclenching his fists too frequently, just as he had done the night before when he revealed his secret to her.

"You need to get out," Hermione whispered to him.

"I can hold on a bit longer," he replied. "Besides yesterday, this has been happening a lot during class. I'll draw attention if I ask to go to the bathroom every day, making it seem like I can't hold it."

"But Snape knows what's happening to you," she whispered back.

"But the other people in the classroom don't."

It was strange, but Hermione couldn't help feeling nervous with each passing second. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye several times, noticing with concern how the color drained from his face, as if something inside him was sucking the life out of him, which was most visible in his cheekbones. It really worried her. She saw him suppress a groan of pain and discomfort and felt it had been enough.

Hermione raised her hand, and when the professor didn't acknowledge her, she interrupted his lesson by raising her voice.

"Professor, excuse me, could I go to the bathroom?"

Snape didn't look at her; he looked at Malfoy.

"Get out already and stop interrupting," was his response. "And take your things; class will be over by the time you return."

Both gathered their belongings, stood up, and crossed the classroom. Daphne gave her a venomous look, and Hermione knew she would have ripped her head off if she could. She responded with a grimace and made sure Daphne could see it. Why did she have to be so hostile? It wasn't like she had chosen to suffer this punishment! She couldn't stand her. It was ridiculous.

Once outside, Draco and Hermione ran to the nearest bathrooms, which fortunately were empty. He entered one of the stalls and closed the door behind him. She leaned against the sinks and tried to play music in her head, anything that could make her forget why this situation was even more uncomfortable than it really should be.

She hummed a song from a youth band that had frequently played on the Muggle radio during the holidays and closed her eyes. She tried to transport herself to the last summer at the Burrow, reliving the happy moments she had spent with her family and friends, and, ultimately, remembering anything that would help her escape from the present. However, she found herself pondering the possible ways to cure Malfoy's curse.

She wondered why she cared so much. Perhaps her need to solve injustices outweighed her sense of pride? Draco Malfoy had insisted on being her personal nightmare since her first day at Hogwarts; why was his situation not indifferent to her? Perhaps because she knew that, above all else, he hadn't done anything to deserve that curse.

She hated knowing something was unfair and doing nothing to change it, even if the one suffering the injustice was the very Draco Malfoy.

A moment later, he came out to meet her again. He dragged his feet towards the sinks, near where she was, and washed his hands thoroughly. He looked extremely tired.

When he picked up his books, they slipped from his hands and fell to the floor with a dull thud. So it was true, this curse weakened him more every day.

Hermione hurried to kneel and pick them up so he wouldn't have to.

Kneeling at his feet, she looked up at him. He was looking at her too. A small "v" had appeared on his brow, giving him a... different look. He seemed to be debating something with himself, as if a dilemma had suddenly formed in his mind and he was trying to solve it or at least understand it.

Hermione would have liked to know what had caused his frown, what he was thinking, and if it was anything like what she was thinking. The intensity of his grayish gaze made her lips part slightly.

But that moment was interrupted when someone else entered the bathroom and, upon finding them like that, cleared their throat. It was Christopher, the Ravenclaw boy, again. Was "opportune" one of his qualities?

Hermione jumped to her feet and handed half of Malfoy's books back to him.

"I'll carry the other half," she offered.

He shook his head and took the rest of his books. He didn't want to be considered useless for doing the simplest things, not yet. Their hands brushed in the process.

She looked away as they left the hallway. Then, with her heart pounding in her throat, she said, "I still don't know how, but I'm going to help you."

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