Chapter 3: Souls

"You can't help me," said Draco, making sure to enunciate his words clearly. There was a certain firmness in his tone. A certain hardness as well.

Hermione felt a pinch in her chest, akin to frustration.

"Why not? I could investigate, try to find a solution. I've solved problems before."

"Do you think you're more capable than a professor? Than Professor Snape?"

She twisted her lips into a grimace.

"I don't think I'm better than anyone, Malfoy," she retorted. "I'm just saying that three pairs of eyes see more than two. Maybe you both missed something and didn't realize it."

"You can't help me," he reiterated, reinforcing what he'd said earlier.

Hermione rolled her eyes. If there was one thing she had always hated, it was being underestimated. But if there was something she loved above all else, it was proving her worth, especially to all those people who had ever told her she couldn't do something. Like when her aunt had assured her she would never be able to recreate her grandmother's famous cake, and she had not only deciphered the ingredients with the flavors that had been etched into her memories but had also nailed the cooking time through trial and error to make it as fluffy as her dearly departed grandmother's. Or when the very boy she was now bound to had called her a Mudblood and laughed at her for not being a "real" witch, and she had shown him what she was capable of by getting better grades than him in any subject. She suspected his disdain for her might be motivated by that, being a clear channel for his resentment. Because if Draco Malfoy had one thing, it was pride, pride that was surely hurt when he was outdone by the girl he hadn't bet a single Knut on in their first year.

When they arrived at the Great Hall, everyone turned to look at them. Looking at each other with furrowed brows, not understanding much, was an involuntary reaction. Hermione saw Zabini fidgeting in his seat as he watched them approach the Gryffindor table for dinner.

"Have you two hooked up?" he asked in a high-pitched voice, leaning halfway over the table in what Hermione assumed was some kind of excitement. He was so close that Draco slapped him on the forehead, making him recoil.

"Hey!"

"If you keep saying stupid things, the next one will be with a closed fist and straight to the nose."

"What a temper!" his friend complained, rubbing his forehead with his fingers. "I was just asking if the rumors were true. The information dropped like a bomb just a few minutes ago."

Draco didn't need to ask. He turned his head so quickly it took just a blink, and when Hermione followed his gaze, she found the Ravenclaw boy whispering something to the people at his table. The Slytherin muttered something under his breath, something that sounded like a mix between an insult and a... threat? Hermione saw out of the corner of her eye how Malfoy looked towards another table. His eyes slid over it from left to right, precisely, as he tried to find someone.

"She's not here," Parkinson interjected. "Daphne. She was ahead of us when we were coming to the Great Hall, and when we heard what all the students were gossiping about at the door, she turned around and started to leave like a shot, muttering something like 'let him blow off steam with that Mudblood.'" Hermione grimaced. She didn't relish the idea of sleeping so close to what seemed clearly to be a scorned girlfriend. Her mother was a fan of soap operas, and she was sick of seeing endless hypothetical situations that the protagonists could reach in a fit of jealousy... especially with the third wheel in the relationship. Pansy glanced for a second at Hermione's contorted face with curiosity but continued her story to her friend as if nothing had happened. "She also insulted you a couple of times, but she was already far enough away for me to stop hearing her curses. You should have seen her face," she said with a giggle as she recalled it in her mind. "It was... wonderful."

"Weren't you friends?" Harry asked warily. "Why are you happy about her suffering?"

The fact that Pansy almost laughed made Harry blush.

"Not friends, companions," she emphasized. "I can count my true friends on the fingers of one hand, and she wouldn't fit into that category even if I counted my toes. I simply... tolerate her. And only because she's dating him," she said, nodding toward Draco. "But I never bet on them."

"And that's a true Slytherin friend," Blaise mocked. "She tells you the hard truths to your face."

"Alright, that's enough!" exclaimed Draco, apparently tired of the conversation and visibly irritated. "What exactly are the rumors?"

Pansy was already taking a breath and opening her mouth to respond when Ron beat her to it.

"Basically, someone is saying around here that you two were making out in the bathrooms."

"Really, Ronald Weasley? Are you now a Slytherin friend?" asked the boy to whom she was magically bound.

"What?"

"Oh, why do you never listen when I talk?" Blaise lamented, putting a hand on his shoulder while overacting and feigning distress. Ron stood as still as a statue. His numerous freckles suddenly darkened under his skin. When the Slytherin noticed this, he raised the corners of his lips slightly. "Are you blushing, Weasley?"

"Fuck you, Zabini!" Ron shouted, moving his torso to get rid of his hand.

The person in question let a few seconds of silence pass, as if wanting to add tension to the situation, before saying:

"That's what I'm trying to do."

Everyone present seemed to be speechless for an eternity. Then, Ginny stuck her head into the group and looked at Blaise with an arched eyebrow.

"Very interesting way of flirting with my brother and all, Zabini, but since I've heard the topic of fucking mentioned..." She then turned to Hermione. "Would you please take your cat out of the common room? Since you haven't been back, all he does is... fucking around. He's completely irritable and knocks everything off the tables, attacks the other animals, pees in the corners, and swipes at anyone who gets too close. He's already torn the bottom of my robe."

Hermione put a hand to her lips. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Crookshanks had always been independent, very independent. There were times when she didn't see hide nor hair of him for several days in a row; he loved to roam the castle and have solo adventures around the school grounds. Sometimes, when he returned after about a week without showing any sign of life, he would bring a dead mouse as a sort of apology.

But apparently, she didn't have permission to do the same as her cat, and he got angry if her absence was longer than she had planned.

"I'll go get him as soon as I finish dinner," she promised.

"No way you're bringing that demon animal into my common room," Malfoy decreed.

Half an hour later, Crookshanks was elegantly licking his paw, perched on the back of the sofa in the Slytherin common room. At one point, the cat looked at Hermione, and his relaxed expression turned to a harder, almost sharp one. It was as if he were judging her for that brief abandonment.

"I'll make it up to you," Hermione told the animal as an apology.

"I don't know how I let myself get convinced of this," Draco lamented.

"Because otherwise, you would have had to drag me here."

"I would have done it."

"And I would have insisted until you agreed," she assured him. "He's a good animal. Just a bit prideful."

"He has a face... like he wants to kill someone." Draco shivered. "And he's ugly."

Hermione laughed.

"I don't recommend insulting him. He understands... and holds grudges."

"He's just a cat."

"He'smycat."

"Yeah, whatever. Just keep that creature away from me during the night."

After all the Slytherin students had gone to bed, she and Malfoy turned their backs to each other to undress and put on their respective pajamas. Harry and Parkinson did the same on their side of the common room, and the four went to bed. It was the second day they hadn't take a shower, and Hermione couldn't help but feel insultingly dirty.

Crookshanks curled up on her belly, being the first to succumb to sleep. His purring had a relaxing effect on the girl, who soon fell asleep too.

Suddenly, she was having a gruesome dream where someone kidnapped her and put her in a huge glass box... where she only had five square meters to move and couldn't escape. She woke up startled, not just because of the dream but also because of the abrupt movement her cat made on her. She leaned a bit to see him hissing at a point above her head. She turned just enough to see out of the corner of her eye how one of the Greengrass girls covered her mouth with a hand to prevent her from screaming. Ironically, it wasn't the sister she had expected to find in that situation.

"Shh." Astoria wielded her wand and pointed it at her in a way that inspired fear. There was a malicious spark in the shine of her eyes. Hermione felt her icy fingers pressing her face with all their might, digging her hard nails into her cheek as if she wanted to tear her face apart. She looked at her with barely contained anger, gritting her teeth and feeling the wand pressed against her jaw before she whispered, "I'm going to let go of you, alright? But don't even think about making the slightest noise."

Astoria Greengrass's fingers released her mouth, and Hermione didn't open her lips to scream as she would have liked. Instead, she pressed them tighter while holding her furious gaze. She wasn't stupid. She wasn't the one armed, so she would be the one to regret it if she disobeyed.

"That's better," she said, and though she spoke very quietly, the hatred in her voice was evident. "I've heard the rumors about you and Draco."

"The rumors are false," Hermione snapped, sounding harsher than she had intended.

"Don't try to fool me, Granger," she cut her off even before she could finish the sentence. "It won't work. My sister doesn't dare confront you because she doesn't want to seem like a psycho girlfriend, but I don't give a shit what others think."

"Well, for not giving a shit, you've made sure to choose a moment when you knew I would be conveniently alone."

Though, of course, that wasn't entirely true. She cast a quick glance at where Malfoy was peacefully sleeping, discovering that his hard features carved in ice had melted into a calm and serene expression while he slept. She found herself thinking that this would be exactly the face she would imagine if someone asked her to picture what an angel resting would look like, and she surprised herself for doing so.

"Very sharp, Granger," the girl conceded. "But this is just a little warning."

"Oh, really? Well, I'm sorry to say that you're a terrible communicator," she said with determination despite being pointed at with a wand. She raised an eyebrow and held her gaze. "It's still not clear to me what I'm being warned about."

"Let me make it clear then," Astoria responded with a smug little smile. "I'm warning you that you'll have problems if the rumors keep spreading."

The girl omitted the "Because I myself will make sure you pay for it," but Hermione could hear it in the air anyway. Nevertheless, the Gryffindor was about to laugh.

"As if I or anyone could control the castle's gossip. You seem new here, Greengrass. Besides, you should believe me when I say the rumors are false. I'm not interested in your sister's boyfriend at all, and he doesn't show any interest in me either. This is the worst punishment they could have imposed on both of us, and you should know that. How do you think you'd feel if they chained you... I don't know, to Neville? And it was for a whole week, and you couldn't be more than five meters away from him."

Contrary to what she had expected, Astoria Greengrass's cheeks flushed in the darkness.

"Consider yourself warned," was all she said, almost stumbling over her words, before starting to walk away towards the dormitories.

Hermione made a small noise to let her know she wanted to say one last thing. The girl turned reluctantly.

"Let your sister know that I don't intend to fight with another girl, and certainly not over a man. Tell her she should trust him, and if she doesn't, maybe she should ask herself if it's worth being with someone she believes would cheat on her at the first opportunity. She's a beautiful girl, we all are in some way, and none of us should feel insecure because of a man. If Malfoy is faithful to her, great. If not, then she should be grateful that he's shown his true colors."

Astoria had a slightly furrowed brow when she turned again and disappeared through the girls' dormitory door.

The next morning was as normal as it could be, considering it was the third day Hermione was condemned to stay within five meters of Draco Malfoy. Zabini continued to be the life of breakfast, and Ron had started glancing at him more frequently. Parkinson seemed to be gradually getting more comfortable with Harry, as if she had accepted that they were inevitably stuck together for a few more days and had decided to make the best of it instead of being bitter all the time. Apparently, "making the best of it" for her meant teasing him often. Malfoy, on the other hand, spent most of the day lost in his thoughts, so much so that he barely looked at or spoke to Hermione directly.

At the end of one class, while Hermione was gathering her books, Malfoy took the opportunity to approach Daphne, who was nearly at the distance limit before an invisible wall would have stopped him. Hermione saw them, so she deliberately slowed her pace to give them time. It wasn't that she wanted to eavesdrop on a private conversation, but they weren't far enough away for her to miss Daphne's blunt "We're done, Draco" after a few minutes of arguing before she walked away.

The classroom was now completely empty and a bit colder, with only the two of them left. Malfoy's shoulders were slightly slumped, and though he wasn't looking down, his eyes were fixed on the floor in a way that made Hermione feel compassion for him. This punishment the six of them were suffering was entirely his fault, so he had brought this on himself, but... she couldn't help but feel sorry for how everything had spiraled even more out of control for him.

She was about to say something when he spoke first.

"Lock the door with an anti-opening spell."

Hermione frowned for a moment before understanding what he meant.

"Oh... Okay, give me a second." She moved to the door and waved her wand at the lock. A beam of light and a metallic sound later, the door was sealed shut. "There, it's done."

Hermione stood facing the door while Malfoy did what he needed to do behind her. This time, she could feel the anger escaping his body with each groan, as if he was using this forced activity to vent his frustration over what had just happened. His noises weren't too loud, but in that empty room, she heard them as if he were shouting in her ear. She imagined Malfoy behind her, with his pants and underwear down to his ankles, his hand satisfying his erection with each movement. Instantly, she scolded herself for thinking about it. Then she scolded herself even more intensely when she felt her sex dilate and dampen her panties. Oh god, it hadn't been that long since the last time... or had it? A quick mental count revealed that the last time she had had fun with someone had been two months ago, just before she decided that the end of term was too close to allow for any more distractions from her studies.

Two months without sex had never felt so agonizingly long as they did now, in that moment.

A hand slid inside her skirt discreetly. She didn't remember consciously deciding to do it, but she didn't stop when her fingers passed the barrier of her underwear and began to gently massage her clitoris. She closed her eyes and heard another groan from Malfoy, which made her intimate area pulse even more.

She told herself she wasn't doing this because she was turned on by Draco Malfoy masturbating a few meters away. No, that was ridiculous even to think about. This was because she was a woman, and like any woman, she had needs… only they hadn't surfaced—or rather, exploded—until that instant. Oh, Merlin, she was so aroused now...

"Shall we go?" Malfoy suggested, suddenly next to her.

Hermione pulled her hand out from inside her skirt in a flash, her heart pounding in her chest and throat. How had he gotten to her side so quickly? How had she not heard him approaching? And the most important question: How much had he seen of what she was doing down there? She stared at him desperately searching for an answer, but Malfoy's face was too neutral... though if she looked closely, his eyes were slightly narrowed.

"Shall we go?" he repeated, and after Hermione removed the previous spell, they both left the classroom heading for the nearest bathrooms.

Snape's office had a much gloomier aura than it had seemed from the outside. Inside, it was as if the air thickened, causing a slight yet distressing sense of suffocation.

The professor received them both almost reluctantly. Once they were inside, he asked:

"Do you really want to do this, Mr. Malfoy? With her here?"

"It's affecting me more and worse each time. I can't wait, not when I don't know how much time..."

"Is left," Hermione finished the sentence in her head.

Malfoy had fallen silent and didn't seem likely to say another word at that moment, so Snape nodded.

"Move as far away as you can, Miss Granger," he instructed, waving his wand above his head as she complied. Noticing her curious look, the professor added, "A silencing spell; no one should hear what happens in here." Malfoy's mouth twisted into a grimace, and his eyes darkened as his pupils expanded, overtaking the gray of his irises. "I advise you not to interrupt the session, Miss Granger, for your companion's sake. Ah, and consider closing your eyes. This is not pleasant to watch. As for you, Mr. Malfoy... are you ready?"

The boy nodded, the professor raised his arm to point his wand at him, and she slowly closed her eyes.

A howl of pain resonated sharply in the room. The Gryffindor frowned, still with her eyes closed. The screams were so harrowing that she felt an urgent need to hug herself to try to reduce the impact they had on her body, which had started trembling from the shock. What was he doing to him? It felt as if she would find a half-dismembered body in a large pool of blood if she opened her eyes. At least that's how she imagined someone would scream if they were tied to a chair and had a leg cut off with a saw.

She tried to endure as long as she could but ended up succumbing to the impulse to open her eyes and verify that none of that was happening, that Draco Malfoy was still in one piece... but when she did, she realized she couldn't confirm that. There was no blood splattering the walls, no dismembered body parts scattered in different directions... but now Malfoy was just a blurry blot in the middle of a dense, trembling mass of air. It wasn't until she focused her eyes a bit better that she understood that this mass of air was coming directly from him, as if Snape were trying to literally pull the curse out of him, sucking it out through every pore of his body. She had never believed in such things, but it seemed... it seemed as if that dense air around him was part of his soul. And Malfoy was fighting to keep it inside, not to let it go, but it seemed like the struggle must be something akin to not letting a heavy, burning piece of metal fall even though his hands were raw.

Horrified, she managed to look away from Malfoy to Snape. Beads of sweat were gathering at the base of his black hair, some falling down his temple due to the movement. The professor seemed to be trying to focus on a specific point, without really succeeding. Hermione stifled a gag when she nearly vomited up everything she'd eaten at lunch, noticing a black stain appearing in Malfoy's chest area when the intensity of the spell was strongest and disappearing when the professor had to reduce it to avoid killing the boy.

No one had told her, but somehow she knew that would be the result if Snape lost control of what he was doing. Because no one can live without a soul, she believed that now. She was seeing it.

But the curse seemed to weigh more than Malfoy's soul; it was more anchored to his body, and from what little she had seen, she could swear there was no way to remove the curse without killing him. And reaching that conclusion made her soul drop to her feet.

The boy fell to his knees, and Snape stopped, not without cursing a name under his breath that she had never heard before.

Malfoy sighed, and she fixed her eyes on the Slytherin. Now that she could see his face, she noticed a disturbing lack of color, except for the large dark circles that had appeared under his eyes. It was as if life had been about to leave his body, as if it would have if it had continued for just a few more seconds.

Malfoy was panting when the professor approached him and handed him a glass bottle with a glowing content. He took it without asking questions, removed the stopper, and drank it in one go. Gradually, the extreme pallor took on a more natural tone, and the dark circles partially dissipated.

Hermione's mouth felt dry and raspy.

"I told you to close your eyes," the professor reminded her, glancing at her sideways.

It was then that she realized her eyes were wide open and that her face bore an expression of horror. She tried to relax it while Malfoy recovered, still on his knees on the floor.

Now he was looking down. And with a lost gaze.

It took a few minutes for him to stand up on his own, with slumped shoulders, as if defeated, and leave the office dragging his feet. Hermione had no choice but to follow him, no matter how much hers seemed anchored to the floor by what she had just witnessed. It also took her a minute to find her voice to say:

"Let me help you. I can help you. You don't have to go through that again; I'm sure there's another way to..."

He suddenly lost his patience.

"YOU CAN'T HELP ME!" he exclaimed, turning furiously toward her. His shout echoed off the stone walls for a couple of seconds.

Hermione held his gaze as long as he held hers.

Malfoy was an idiot, that was clear. And she was offended but not defeated.

Neither spoke again for the rest of the day. They finished classes, had dinner, returned to the dungeons, and went to bed, but only one of them fell asleep.

The Gryffindor got up as soon as she heard his steady breathing, a sign that he could no longer see what she was doing, and sat at the nearest table within the five-meter limit. She grabbed a piece of parchment someone had misplaced and summoned a quill from her case. Then she began to write, and write, and write, until there was no more space left. With another piece of parchment, she improvised an envelope, sealing it with magic. She wrote her name on the back and put on the front the name she had heard Snape mutter that afternoon: Beatrice Brown.

Crookshanks made an annoyed sound when Hermione woke him up.

"Take this letter to the Owlery, please." The cat tried to bite her hand when she brought the envelope close, but the girl was quicker and scolded him with her gaze. "You need to go now. It's important."

The animal dawdled a bit before getting up, stretching, and with an unfriendly look, took the envelope his owner handed him in his mouth.

"Thank you," she whispered. "I'll buy you those treats you like."

She could see him leave with an air of disdain through the door and disappear down the hallway. Then she lay back down on the couch and covered herself up to her chin with the blanket.

If Beatrice Brown was the woman who had done that to Malfoy, then she hoped her words would have the power to spark some compassion in her when she read her letter.

And she also hoped Mrs Brown would write back and include in her letter the clue she had so desperately asked for to decipher how to remove the curse she had unjustly placed on him.

That Beatrice Brown would decide to reveal the cure sounded too promising to be true, but at least she had to try. Draco Malfoy couldn't continue paying for his father's sins, no matter how much of an idiot he was.

This had to stop, and no matter how much he dismissed her help, she intended to solve the problem. It wasn't in her to sit idly by while watching someone suffer. He might be ungrateful, but she would keep her conscience clear.

Yes, she would find a way to solve the problem.

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