Chapter 11

Hermione wanted to sleep the weekend away, but a knock at her door the next morning was revealed to be Pansy Parkinson who opened the door a crack and peered in.

"Are you alive in there, Granger?" The dark-haired witch asked from the door.

"Unfortunately Parkinson. I am still living." Hermione huffed, sitting up and smoothing her hair which was sure to be going in every direction.

"You missed breakfast," Pansy pointed out, scrutinising her.

"And?" Why was everyone so concerned about her eating? Why did all these Slytherins care if she skipped a meal? Harry and Ron had never noticed when she skipped meals unless they needed to ask her to do their homework or something.

"When was the last meal you ate? If you don't start eating soon, they will probably find some way to blame Draco and he'll go to Azkaban for cursing you or something. And it will be all because you refused to eat the shite food they serve here." Pansy tapped her long manicured nails against her forearm with a look on her face that Hermione could not define. Was this really the same girl that had helped her into bed last night.

"The food isn't shite," Hermione argued, for the sake of arguing, because the food at Hogwarts wasn't particularly great either.

Examining her nails, Pansy asked. "Then why aren't you eating?"

"Fuck Parkinson what is this, an intervention?" Hermione crossed her arms in annoyance.

"An inter-what now? No, I was trying to figure out what your deal is. Are you trying to commit passive suicide? Or was it Potter or Weasley who got you up the duff?" Pansy's face looked remarkably free of judgement, but Hermione was bowled over by the Slytherin girl's nerve to ask such a private question.

Hermione was still a virgin, but that was hardly Pansy's business.

"Bloody hell Parkinson, did you just wake me up to accuse me of what exactly? Being anorexic or being pregnant? Are you planning to sell the story of what a disaster my life is to the Daily Prophet if that's the case? You'd probably make a good amount of galleons if you did. Rita Skeeter does hate my guts." Hermione sneered as best she could while wearing pyjamas and sitting in her bed. Her smoothing at her curls had done little to nothing and her hair was wild.

"I just thought maybe…you know what…never mind. Anyways there is a tray of food outside your door." The dark haired girl snapped her fingers and the tray floated up and landed on her bed. Hermione could recognize Theodore Nott's handiwork, along with Draco Malfoy's handwriting on the vial of Pepper-Up Potion. "Maybe eat something so you don't die."

Pansy turned to walk away.

"Parkinson," Hermione called, causing the other girl to look back. "Thank you. I'm sorry if I was being a bitch. The last few months have been hell and the last week has been worse. I'm just not feeling like letting people in is the smartest thing that I should be doing."

"Maybe not, but has being the Brightest Witch of the Age always served in your best interest?"

Hermione was left alone to contemplate that after Pansy closed the door behind her.

When she took a sip of the coffee, she savored the taste because it was perfect. She realised that Theo had remembered how she took her coffee.

For some reason that shook her more than anything else that had happened that morning.

She wished she understood what his goal was. The Purebloods were supposed to be pursuing brides, why was Theo who was a bloody Lord, expending so much time and energy on her.

It made no sense.

...

Theo caught Pansy in the common room when he was coming back in from watching Draco practise for Quidditch tryouts. He'd been fighting stretching his own wings so hard that eventually it just got easier to leave and end the temptation, plus Draco had already told him that there wasn't enough privacy for them to shag in the locker room after the game.

Theo tried to be unthreatening, but he'd grown so much taller in the last year. He couldn't help it that he loomed over her.

He had her pinned between his arms as he leaned toward her, refusing to let her escape from his scrutiny. Even knowing it wasn't precisely ethical, Theo allowed his pheromones to exude from him, not enough to make Pansy desire him, but enough to make her more compliant.

"What do you want Theo?" Pansy scowled at him in annoyance. Of course she'd be immune to his nature, it just figured. She was probably part fae or something.

"What the bloody hell is going on with you, Pans?"

"None of your business, Theodore." She hissed, nearly spitting in his face as she leaned toward him.

"I refuse to allow you to kill yourself. You are barely eating! We already dealt with Draco starving himself in sixth year, why do you think that I would allow a repeat?" Theo snarled. "You are my friend and I refuse to watch you pine for someone from Gryffindor!" Theo watched as her eyes widened as his guess found its mark. Bingo.

He wasn't surprised when she slapped him.

He was surprised when he heard Draco's hiss behind him, and turned around to see Draco's look of betrayal right before the blond fled the common room. Fuck!

"You better go after him before he does something stupid," Pansy pushed his arm out of the way. "Worry about your own house Theodore Nott, before getting involved where you aren't wanted."

Theo nodded and took off after Draco. That had to have looked really bad from the angle Draco had seen it.

Shite.

Theo felt the sinking dread in his stomach that he had really screwed up this time.