Chapter 7: Mind versus heart

"Order back there!" the professor exclaimed when a spasm triggered by the climax caused Hermione to move her leg, hit the leg of the table, and destabilize it for a second. Luckily, the girl's small scream could easily be misinterpreted as the crystal ball had rolled off its stand and almost fallen to the floor.

'Order?' thought Hermione, still a bit dazed by the final surge of pleasure that had left her more confused than satisfied. Little was said about the chaos that had just invaded her mind, turning everything upside down.

What was right, what was wrong? Because she was sure that what Malfoy and she had just done was both at the same time and in equal parts, and that made her feel that nothing made much sense anymore.

"Excuse me, professor" she hurried to say, stretching out a hand to grab the derailed crystal ball and put it back in its place.

When the professor buried her nose in her beloved book again, Hermione reached into her backpack and pulled out a tissue, which she then handed to Malfoy under the table. He would have to clean up the mess himself.

She discreetly adjusted her skirt, as it had twisted a bit with the back-and-forth of hands and body movement, and within minutes the professor finished the lesson, and the students were allowed to leave.

She and Malfoy were the first to exit. He walked so quickly that she had to jog to keep up with him.

They hadn't exchanged words since leaving the class, but she knew he was heading to some secluded spot where no one could overhear the uncomfortable conversation they inevitably had to have. Because, damn it, they had crossed a line they weren't supposed to even approach. And now they were on the other side of it, not quite sure how to get back. Was there even a way back after what they had done?

Draco entered an abandoned classroom and closed the door once she was inside, and for a moment, both remained in complete silence. He still had his hand on the doorknob, and she was staring at him intently as thousands of dust motes floated between them.

Hermione was wondering how they would address everything they had to say when Malfoy sighed. Did he feel violated in some way? Should she apologize for what she had done? At no point had he asked her to put her hands on him during his crises. In fact, Malfoy had made it clear several times; he didn't want her help.

Remembering that made her cheeks flush, feeling more embarrassed than ever. How had she let herself get carried away by the situation? How had she dared to make a decision on her own without asking him first? It wasn't her job to solve the problem; it was his!

"I… I'm so sorry, Malfoy."

Her eyes started to burn, and consequently, a watery layer in them threatened to make her cry… but fortunately, the classroom was dark enough that he couldn't see it.

The mentioned one turned to her slowly, as if for a moment he had forgotten that she was there too. Then, with an unusually hoarse voice, he said:

"You saved my life, Granger, why are you apologizing?"

Hermione shook her head and sniffed a little.

"Because I didn't even ask for your permission before acting" she explained, trying not to let her voice break. "The most logical thing would be for you to be mad at me, and I would understand if you were. I just thought you didn't have much time left, and…"

"And you were right" he cut her off. "I have less and less time to act every time. And every day that passes, I feel… weaker and weaker" he added almost through gritted teeth, as if disappointed in himself for not being able to control how the curse affected his body. "I even thought the broom accident was my fault because I felt I was at the limit of my strength. I always try not to show it, but…"

The girl, who didn't dare to face him and was looking at her shoes apprehensively, wanted to say something, but she closed her mouth as soon as she noticed Malfoy had started to take steps towards her. Suddenly, when she looked up at him and realized there was no resentment or bad intentions towards her in his eyes, she felt as if all her energy left her body, leaving her limp, exhausted, with her arms feeling like a ton on each side of her body. Was that what it felt like when the walls you built in your mind to keep your distance from someone you weren't supposed to have a relationship with came down? Was that the peace that came with realizing there was no longer any danger?

No, he didn't seem angry with her. In fact, she couldn't even see a trace of the enmity that had accompanied them to the Divination class, as if they had forgotten it under the table and now everything was different for both of them. Now there was… was there a certain complicity between them or was she imagining it? Well, he had confessed his darkest secret to her, and she had kept her word not to tell anyone. She had even helped him hide it from others.

The truth was, Malfoy also seemed too tired to keep hating her so openly. It was clear that hate consumed his energy, and in his state, he couldn't afford to waste it lightly.

The boy's silent steps soon positioned him in front of her. He was so close she could hear his irregular breathing, and her heart skipped a beat when she perceived the scent of vanilla and sex emanating from his body.

Malfoy then noticed that Hermione had half of her shirt untucked from her skirt, giving her a somewhat disheveled look that had nothing to do with her usual appearance. Hermione followed his eyes and looked down, realizing that fixing her skirt in class hadn't been enough. Then she looked back at Malfoy, who was frowning as if… as if he were asking for permission.

She didn't quite know what he intended, but for the first time in her life, she felt there was no danger, that she could trust him, so she nodded.

Then Draco moved his good hand to grasp the wrinkled edge of her shirt between his fingers and pulled it to bring her a little closer. He then tucked it inside her skirt and ran his fingers around her waist to finish the job.

Hermione was breathless. She felt it was the most intimate gesture they had ever had, even though they had just touched each other sexually, and strangely enough… she didn't mind the feeling. How had she gone from wanting to kill him on Monday to feeling something more on Friday? Something she couldn't even explain because it was a strange mix of several things at once. If she stopped to identify them, she could feel a certain degree of nervousness, but not the kind you experience when your body warns you of danger, but the kind you feel when the person you like is near you. There was also a substantial rise in body temperature, as if the classroom had started to burn at the corners and she had simply stayed there, waiting for the fire to spread and consume her. Her heart was also beating faster, pumping blood directly to her cheeks, which burned under her skin. What were all these signals?

'Love,' said a timid voice in her head, but she quickly dismissed the idea because it was totally ridiculous.

It was true she had experienced something similar when she was with Krum, her first love, which was as ardent and passionate as it was fleeting. She spent a long time frustrated for not being able to fight the distance that separated them. Then there was a neighbor from her neighborhood, who had grown a beard and had a growth spurt from one year to the next. He was tender and kind, and a very good lover in bed, but it was just a summer fling that ended when she had to return to Hogwarts. There were too many secrets to hide from someone who didn't belong to her world, and she hated having to pretend she was someone different, just a common girl who couldn't wave a wand and fix a broken glass or bring an object closer without getting off the couch. A Ravenclaw caught her attention shortly after, someone intelligent and polite with whom she spent several months having recurring encounters in the library. It was always the same dynamic; both genuinely studied for a few hours and then had some fun between the less-trafficked bookshelves.

She had had a few more lovers, most too sporadic to be taken into account, but she had always tried to be as discreet as possible with all of them. She was very protective of her private life and generally preferred people to think she was a prude rather than let everyone know about her romantic comings and goings. Which made her wonder… should she add Malfoy to the list of her conquests? The truth was it sounded absurd, almost nonsensical. Had she really conquered him? Had he conquered her?

He had treated her horribly for years. It would be pathetic to fall head over heels for someone who had hated her so much. That would be hitting rock bottom, but… but she knew very well that she was denying the evidence to herself. She was almost an expert at identifying the signals her body sent to warn her she was infatuated with someone, and what she was feeling with Malfoy was very, very similar to those sensations. She could almost feel the butterflies fluttering inside her! As confused as she was, they crashed against the walls of her stomach over and over again, anxious to find a way out.

Hermione would have thrown herself against the stone walls of that classroom if it meant regaining common sense. She couldn't be in love with Malfoy! When had that idea even crossed her mind? No, no, no! But… what if she already was? And what was she supposed to do now? Because he wasn't like the other boys she had been with.

She didn't see him as a challenge to conquer and cross off a list. And besides, Malfoy couldn't be treated as if he were just another lover, because what they had gone through together was on a completely different level. Hermione felt committed to his well-being. They weren't just one-night stands; they had known each other for years, although it was true their relationship had been the exact opposite of what one could call healthy or stable.

But she couldn't help it, and she hated herself for it, because despite everything, she was starting to feel a strange attraction towards Malfoy, as if every time they saw each other, every time they exchanged words, every time they had eye contact, he was bringing her closer to his side, to his space. Every time they spent time together, she felt something that was getting more and more difficult to control, something that, however, was beginning to be as necessary as the air she breathed.

She would have loved to be able to see through his eyes to look at herself and find out if he felt the same way. They had given each other pleasure. She had done it to help him, but Malfoy had also touched her, and after all, he wasn't the one who had an excuse to do it. Did that mean he liked her? She knew that casual sex shouldn't be used to demand certain feelings from someone, but Hermione felt that maybe, perhaps...

Her mind would be torn to shreds trying to reconcile the fact that her rational part had been overcome by the emotional one. She wouldn't rest until she could finally understand what was happening to her, but… wasn't it easier just to follow the flow of emotions, let herself be carried away by the moment, and see where it led?

Because right now, it seemed like Malfoy had also stopped fighting the current. At least for the moment, he seemed to have decided to give up and let things take their natural course. Otherwise, why had he fixed her shirt? Why was he still so close to her, breathing the same air?

But then Draco pinched the back of her hand and brought her back to the present.

She was surprised to see that there, in the darkness of the classroom, the signs that Malfoy was truly sick were more visible than ever. His dark circles were deep under his eyes, his cheekbones looked sharp above his cheeks, which were worryingly hollowed inwards, and his lips were dry, cracked, almost white... Additionally, he had a dejected expression on his face, a look that was tired and troubled at the same time.

"I can't explain what has happened in divination class… Damn it, I'm just a human! But I still love Daphne," he said, his gaze fixed on the button of her skirt, as if he had intuited her thoughts and wanted to set things straight.

Hermione's chest tightened as if her heart had been sucked out and nothing but deep disappointment had filled the void.

"Alright," she replied in an almost choking whisper.

And then neither of them said another word.

Hermione had desperately needed a distraction during dinner to avoid interacting with Malfoy, so she had spent much of the time searching for Neville. There was still the unresolved matter of finding out the truth about their broom accident. Not finding him, she asked her friends, but none had seen him lately in the common room or the Gryffindor dormitories.

Hermione thought about this while lying on the couch, waiting for sleep to come, but judging by her lack of sleepiness, it seemed to have gotten lost along the way. It was true that everything that was happening kept her more awake than she liked to admit: Neville, Malfoy's hands under the table, his rejection, her own contradictory feelings and thoughts… but the fact that she was neglecting her personal hygiene so much didn't help matters either. Neither of them had thought to mention the possibility of taking a bath that day, not after what had happened between them. They had barely spoken, in fact.

To Hermione, it seemed a shame that there wasn't a personal hygiene spell in the magical world. You could easily clean stains and dirt from clothes, but you couldn't get rid of sweat and body odor when you needed to. As a result, Malfoy had sprayed half a bottle of cologne on himself before going to sleep, and Hermione had opted to wash herself with bottled water, pouring it into her palm and rubbing it over her body under her pajamas. Fortunately, there was a spell to dry clothes, because otherwise, she was sure she would have caught a cold during the night.

She was still mulling over all her worries when, suddenly, she heard a sound in the quiet of the Slytherin common room. She tensed instantly. Could it be Astoria, ready to make good on her threat once and for all? Perhaps her feelings had betrayed her, and she had looked at Malfoy with love-struck eyes, or maybe they hadn't been as discreet, and the girl had found out what they had done in Divination class.

She sat up and looked around, trying to find her in the darkness to know from where the attack would come, but the seconds kept passing, and the attack never came.

Another sound.

Hermione strained her ears. It seemed like someone was hissing to get her attention.

"Harry?" she whispered.

"No, not Harry, Pansy," the girl said from her corner, where Hermione couldn't see her. "Is Draco asleep?"

Then, she did what she had been avoiding since their uncomfortable conversation: she glanced at him briefly. He was lying on his back, breathing peacefully, his head slightly turned toward her. Despite his angular features, he seemed sculpted by the Gods when he slept so deeply. Strands of blond hair covered his forehead, and Hermione couldn't help but notice that his thin lips were slightly parted, tempting her, calling her.

She quickly looked away.

"Yes," she finally told Parkinson, hoping she wouldn't ask her to wake him up to talk to him. She wouldn't have been able to approach his bed, lean over him, and speak or touch him to bring him back from the world of dreams without feeling an almost overwhelming need to beg him to make room for her beside him. And that would have been out of place.

"Good, because it's you I want to talk to."

"M… me?" she exclaimed, somewhat surprised.

"Yes, Granger, and lower your voice, will you? Let's not wake the boys."

Hermione frowned and almost instinctively went on the defensive. It couldn't be good for Pansy Parkinson to want to talk to her alone, could it? It wasn't something that had happened before, nor was it something she thought would happen at any time in the future.

"What do you want?" she snapped.

"Calm down, lioness," Pansy replied in a mocking tone, as if she found it amusing to be feared by everyone in the castle. "I just need to know if you also suspect there's something fishy with Longbottom and the broom accident." Hermione took a few seconds to analyze her words. Then, she made an affirmative sound. "Very good, because I bet anything that the Greengrass sisters have something to do with it. And I can find out."

Damn, that interested her. She moved a bit on the couch, leaning in her direction to hear better.

"How?"

But Parkinson chuckled softly.

"They have to separate us first. I'll tell you my plan then."

Curiosity was eating at her, but was it worth arguing with someone like Parkinson? She knew she wouldn't end up winning, and she could actually wait a couple of days.

"By the way…" the Slytherin continued, though this time without a hint of the confidence that her voice usually exuded.

"Yes?"

"Potter… you know, is he dating someone?"

The question was, at the very least, strange, but Hermione shrugged and answered it anyway.

"Not that I know of."

But Parkinson kept pressing.

"Are you sure? Not even that girl, Genna?"

"Who?"

"Genna. You know, red-haired, poor..."

"Ginny?"

"Yes, Genna."

Parkinson knew perfectly well what Ginny's name was; why would she say it wrong on purpose?

She thought about it for a moment.

Maybe she was…? Could she possibly be a little jealous?

The mere idea made her smile.

Wow, she never would have imagined that someone like Parkinson could take an interest in Harry.

"Well, no, Parkinson, I would have known if that were the case."

"Great. I mean, I don't care, but I don't know, I had the feeling that maybe… But whatever, right? It was just pure curiosity."

Hermione covered her mouth with one hand to keep from laughing.

"Sure, sure. Just curiosity."

"Do I detect a certain irony in your tone, Granger?"

"No, not at all."

"Great, because I want to get along with you, but you have to make it easy for me, dear."

"And why would you…?"

"Shut up and listen," she interrupted. "If you ally with me once this punishment is over, I'll make sure to get to the bottom of the Longbottom and Greengrass matter with your help. Those girls have never been very nice to me, and I see this as the perfect opportunity to get back at them for all the slights I've had to swallow for being close to Draco and not wanting to lose his friendship. And with Daphne out of the way, maybe you'd have a chance with…"

"Don't mention it," Hermione cut her off, unable to bear the thought of something so uncertain. Getting her hopes up would only serve to destroy her bit by bit. "I'll help you, but don't say nonsense. It's absurd."

A soft laugh could be heard from the other side of the room.

"Alright, I'll play dumb. But you should learn to act better if you don't want the rest of us to realice that… well, never mind."

And she left it at that to go to sleep.

If Hermione had had trouble falling asleep before, now it was impossible even to breathe. The air had become thick and heavy, and she had to hide her face in a pillow to avoid suffocating.

The feeling was like being underwater at that moment, trapped in a desperate depth while struggling to find some air to fill her lungs. They burned so much that she started to have palpitations. Or was it pure anxiety?

Why?

Why did it have to be so obvious?

She couldn't be in love with Malfoy! And if she couldn't be, she couldn't seem to be either.

The boy's heart belonged to someone else. She understood that. The question here was: what was she supposed to do with all the pain that caused her?