Chapter 11: Are we... free?

Hermione was so caught up in a whirlwind of emotions that for a few seconds, she lost all sense of herself. The only things she could feel, apart from a strong desire burning in her lower abdomen, was an uncomfortable sensation of dizziness spinning in her head, the throbbing of her swollen lips as they were sporadically bitten between kisses, and the temperature difference between her hot cheek and the boy's cold hand, which held her face firmly.

Her heart was pounding wildly, out of control, as if it was determined to burst out of her body at any moment, and Hermione knew there was a reason for this. She had started to feel a sharp pain in her ribs and a pressure in her chest as the idea gained space in her head.

This wasn't right.

Deep down in her mind, in the darkest, deepest recess of her consciousness, she knew this was all very wrong.

In fact, the most selfish and willful part of her had been trying to ignore the fact that what was happening was wrong, horribly wrong, for quite some time. This part clung desperately to the satisfaction of getting what she wanted, of tasting Draco Malfoy's lips in a fierce kiss that took her breath away with every passing second.

Another part of her, a more logical and sensible one, was desperately trying to get her attention to make her understand that nothing good could come from this situation and that she needed to stop it immediately. Because Malfoy had clearly only kissed her to keep her from revealing his secret, not because he actually wanted to. In fact, he didn't even like her.

This thought made the selfish part deflate little by little until it turned into a small pile of dust in a corner of her consciousness, a small pile of dust ashamed and regretful for being carried away by the impulsiveness of greed. Because she wanted to have him, yes, she still longed to possess Draco Malfoy, but not like this. Not through blackmail and dirty play.

Not if he didn't desire her in the same way.

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut tightly.

Damn, the disillusionment was going to hurt in the deepest part of her being.

She grabbed the boy by his good forearm and forced herself to exert strength to push him away from her.

When they looked at each other, both were flushed and breathing heavily. From their slightly parted, moist lips, faint gasps escaped like warm caresses on each other's faces.

"Malfoy," Hermione whispered, still aware that they had quite an audience around them. She slid her gaze from his lips to his eyes and continued in a low voice, "You… you shouldn't have done that. I wasn't going to say anything. Not really."

He arched his eyebrows, and suddenly seemed plunged into an internal debate for which Hermione would have given anything to access. Then, without taking his eyes off hers, Malfoy exclaimed:

"I'll hex anyone who keeps looking when I turn around!"

And with that, he spun on his heel and started walking, with a confused and tormented Gryffindor following closely behind after tripping over the library book she had forgotten was still at her feet.

Apparently, the rumors had spread faster than expected, because when they arrived at the infirmary, Madam Pomfrey already had two jars of a healing ointment ready for the bruises from their fall, along with a couple of pain potions.

Hermione accepted hers willingly, but Malfoy refused to take anything, claiming it wasn't that bad.

Then the woman insisted on examining his arm. She informed him that she had been consulting book after book to find a minimally invasive magical solution to repair his broken bone, in case he was worried that the commonly used spell might have some adverse effect on him. But he also refused to receive any treatment that wasn't personally approved by Snape. Malfoy not only had remnants of a very powerful potion in his system that, combined with any other potion or healing remedy, could be fatal; he also needed to keep the cast so that Snape could manage to take him to St. Mungo's, where in London, he could meet a girl and have sex with her to break his curse.

Madam Pomfrey seemed disappointed by his refusal but accepted his decision and went back to her office.

After that, the two left. They both agreed to find a place away from everyone's sight to spend the rest of the day avoiding rumors about them and prying eyes.

Hermione was so embarrassed she would have thrown herself headfirst into the depths of a well if there had been one in the castle.

Resigned to not having any deep, narrow cavity in the earth to dive into or the ability to vanish, she simply followed Malfoy through the crowded school corridors with her head down, trying to go unnoticed.

Unfortunately, the scrutiny of others was so overwhelming that Hermione wished she had a switch somewhere on her body with the options "invisible" and "not invisible." After what had happened, she was convinced she would have switched to "invisible" and then pulled the lever off so she could never be seen again.

That would have been very, very nice.

She was daydreaming about this crazy idea when Malfoy finally found a place that seemed sufficiently secluded and quiet. Hermione sighed in relief, but only because she had no idea the day was about to get much stranger. After Draco pulled out his wand and cast the "Lumos" charm to illuminate the area a bit, Pansy Parkinson and Harry Potter appeared in front of them.

They were... kissing.

Kissing and groping.

Hermione let out a gasp. She had managed to see Harry's hand under the girl's skirt before he pulled it out as if he'd been electrocuted.

"Merlin!" she exclaimed. "What's going on here?"

After being discovered, Harry jumped away from the Slytherin he had been getting intimate with a second before, but she showed no hint of shame or guilt at the interruption.

"What do you think?" she replied to the Gryffindor after wiping the moisture from her lips and the surrounding area with elegant dabs of her fingers. "I'll give you a hint: it starts with an 'm' and ends with 'aking out'. It can also be translated as 'having a great time.' Now, what areyou twodoing here?"

"Seriously, Pansy? With Potter?" her friend snapped, partly to tease her and partly to dodge her question.

"He was the closest at hand," she said, examining her nails nonchalantly as she closed the distance Harry had put between them. He looked at her irritably. "Okay, fine. Thanks to this punishment, I've realized how cute he really is. Right, Potter?" she said his last name in a sugary voice as she adjusted his glasses, which had been slowly slipping down the bridge of his nose.

Draco made a sound of disgust, and Pansy, quick as lightning, grabbed an eraser nearby and threw it at his head.

It hit him squarely.

"Hey!"

"Shut up, will you? I've also discovered how exciting it is to sneak around with a Gryffindor while being a Slytherin. You know, the thrill of the forbidden." She glanced at Hermione, smiled, and then looked back at her friend. "If you tried it, you'd know."

An almost dead silence ensued. It would have been, if not for Harry's low mutterings. He probably didn't care much who Draco Malfoy kissed in his free time, but the fact that the person in question was his friend didn't sit well with him like it did with Pansy. After all, they weren't serving this punishment because they got along well with each other.

Pansy, deliberately ignoring Harry Potter, looked back and forth between the other pair of students. She slowly narrowed her eyes, as if that would sharpen her sixth sense… the one with which she was analyzing them and seeing right through them.

"There's something going on here…" she probed. "What? What's up? Have you two also been making out?"

These two must have been the only people in the castle unaware of the rumors. Draco Malfoy looked at his shoes, and Hermione Granger touched her hair, turning her head to create a curtain that hid her embarrassed expression.

"I can't believe it! It happened! You've been making out!"

Suddenly, small fires shot out from a single point, and the candles in the chandeliers on the walls reignited.

The entire room lit up, and Draco's "Lumos" spell was no longer necessary.

"You bastard!" Harry shouted, and the wand that had conjured the fires pointed at the Slytherin. "You took advantage of her!"

Draco Malfoy was about to raise the hand holding his wand, but Hermione stepped between them before he could. Her body didn't completely shield the Slytherin, as he was over a head taller than her, but at least she had prevented a sure confrontation. If Malfoy had also aimed his wand at Harry, they would start a ridiculous fight, and there was no guarantee they wouldn't end up harming themselves and the girls they were chained to.

Harry opened his mouth, probably to demand she move, but Hermione spoke first:

"No, Harry, he didn't take advantage of me. I was the one who kissed him."

Her friend paled.

"You…?"

"Yes, me. Don't you think girls can't take the initiative sometimes?"

"Oh, darling, if he thought that, I've already proven him wrong," assured Pansy, who found the situation amusing in a twisted way.

"Well then, it was me. Lower your wand." She waited a few cautious seconds. "Harry!"

"Okay, fine!" he exclaimed, giving in. "But Hermione, what were you thinking? Have you lost your mind? It's Malfoy!"

Pansy gave him a little shove on the shoulder.

"Come on, leave her alone. She has the right to put her tongue in whoever she wants."

"But it's Malfoy!" he repeated, as if everyone were overlooking something crucial.

"Yes, yes, we heard you, sweetheart. Now, repeat after me, who wants tea?"

"Who wants tea? Why would I want to say that?"

Pansy took the boy's hand, still holding the wand, and moved it precisely to conjure a steaming teapot and several cups.

"Oh, darling, that's so kind of you. Come on, you two, don't be shy, take a seat and get comfortable."

Draco and Hermione looked around. There was nothing to sit on except an old teacher's desk and some wooden stools that looked like they were from the last century. Neither seemed remotely "comfortable."

Pansy made Harry sit on the desk and then took a place beside him. Hermione reached for a stool and sat down. She looked at Malfoy, but he responded with a brief, "I'm fine."

Pansy, who was pouring the tea, rolled her eyes.

"Whatever. So, tell me everything!"

"You talk like there's something to tell," the blond snapped.

"And there isn't?"

"No, there isn't."

"What a response. I expected a more elaborate lie from you, especially considering you're a pureblood Slytherin…" she said, then sent the cups flying to the others with an air of superiority.

After a moment of silence, Hermione knew Pansy wasn't giving up. It was clear she was still waiting for an answer. Or rather… a juicy piece of gossip.

"No, Malfoy's right," Hermione intervened with a shaky voice, "it wasn't anything serious."

Pansy looked at her with an arched eyebrow.

"No one said it was… It's not like you're getting married tomorrow, dear. But one can have fun, don't you think?"

"Ow!"

Hermione's hands had started trembling, and the liquid in her cup spilled over the edges, burning her fingers. She instinctively brought them to her mouth to lick the burn. Her eyes flew to the Slytherin as she realized what she was doing, blushing when she saw he was also watching her. She averted her gaze and her fingers from her mouth, laughing softly to release the tension.

"The truth is, it wasn't much fun," she confessed, trying to tone her voice to make them believe it wasn't memorable for her, much less for him. "We fell down the stairs and had to go to the infirmary," she continued, pointing to the small paper bag Madam Pomfrey had given them. "She gave us these creams, and I took a potion for the pain, but it must have made me feel bad because for a moment… for a moment I lost myself, and that's when… yes, that's when I found myself kissing Malfoy. You see, it was all a terrible misunderstanding."

Pansy furrowed her brow.

"Didn't you say something about taking the initiative?"

Hermione took a large, frantic sip of tea. It burned her throat but gave her a few seconds to think.

"Yes, sure… because I was the one who kissed him, though I wasn't entirely lucid at the time… But it counts as taking the initiative, right?"

She hated herself for stammering and sounding so insecure, but she forced a smile to hide it.

"And if you weren't lucid… how do you know you kissed him and not the other way around?"

"Well, why don't you shut up already and help me with the cream?" Draco cut in, trying to divert her attention to another less compromising matter.

Pansy shrugged and jumped off the desk to approach him. Hermione closed her eyes and sighed softly. Clearly, she hadn't convinced her, and it was likely Pansy would draw her own conclusions, but at least she had tried. After all, she owed him that. Taking the blame for the kiss was her way of compensating Malfoy for having made him kiss her without really wanting to.

Parkinson gasped when the boy took off his shirt, revealing a back full of bruises.

"Fucking Salazar…" she moaned. "Did you fall down the stairs or off the astronomy tower? Your story has holes everywhere; my version so far is that Granger slammed you against the wall with unbridled passion to give you the kiss of your life, you ended up rolling all over, and that's why your back looks like this."

"Your humor is unbridled, see how I laugh," his friend snapped.

Pansy ignored him and grabbed the creams, unscrewing the lid of one.

"Let it be clear that I'm going to put this stinky ointment on my precious hands to rub it on your back because I'm a good friend, but know that I'm not touching your butt. You can apply it yourself back there or ask someone willing… to grope your rear quarters. Got it?"

Then she gave a strange twitch of her eye.

No, wait. It wasn't a twitch, it was a wink at Hermione. Maybe hinting for her to take the cue?

The Gryffindor looked away, but not enough to miss seeing Pansy slathering cream on Malfoy out of the corner of her eye.

The girl kept trying to coax information about the kiss until she got bored of not getting any juicy details to use against them later, and with a scornful look as a farewell, dragged Harry out of there to continue their own make-out session elsewhere.

Pansy Parkinson was very intense when it came to castle gossip, so both of them could breathe again once they were alone and no longer the Slytherin's target.

"Hey… I'm really sorry about earlier," Hermione said after several long minutes of silence. "I wasn't going to say it out loud, I promise. I just wanted to scare you for… for calling me stupid. I took the blame to try and make up for it because I know you didn't want to kiss me, and…"

"Granger," he snapped. "Stop it already."

Hermione did as he asked and shutted it.

Silence enveloped them. The only sound was their breathing and the occasional sigh.

They didn't leave even for lunch or dinner. Not even when the curse forced the boy to satisfy himself in front of her, who went to the other end of the room to give him privacy. Luckily, she could distract herself with the book.

Harry and Pansy returned at night to bring them some food wrapped in napkins and to confirm what they already knew: that everyone was talking about them, the incident on the stairs, and the passionate kiss in the hallway.

All this encouraged the kids to stay where they were for the rest of Sunday until they were sure everyone was in their beds and they wouldn't run into anyone on the way back to the common room.

They hadn't spoken again and didn't say goodnight when they finally went to bed and ended that chaotic day.

Hermione put the book aside and lay on the couch, adjusting herself and slipping a hand under the cushion to get comfortable… and her fingers found a piece of parchment folded in half. She grabbed it, unfolded it, and found only a handful of words that seemed to have been written in fury, judging by the little splatters of black ink everywhere.

"I warned you. Now, face the consequences."

The potion's effect had faded during the early morning hours, and the pain from the fall had gradually returned, waking Hermione from the light sleep she had managed to fall into after several hours of insomnia. Moreover, as soon as the memory of the kiss with Malfoy came to her mind, it made sure to shake off any remaining drowsiness and kept her awake indefinitely.

It was strange, because she thought of his lips as something sweet and embarrassing at the same time. Something filled with pleasure but also full of guilt because only one of them had enjoyed the kiss. With that and the piece of parchment Astoria had left under the cushion to intimidate her, she could barely get back to sleep.

The dark circles and half-closed eyelids were evidence of this early in the morning, as the six punished students waited in Dumbledore's office to be freed from the spell.

The headmaster let them in and then took his time finishing writing something in a book before finally addressing them, who waited patiently in front of the desk, glancing at each other.

"Well… I must admit I was reluctant to think you would get through this week without incidents," he began. "I was certain that at any moment I would hear news of clandestine duels, disfigurements, or even poisonings of your punishment partners. However, it wasn't precisely those kinds of news that reached my ears, and it makes me very happy not to have received any complaints about your behavior from the professors in the castle," he commented, approaching Ron and Blaise with his wand in hand. "I hope this experience has made you mature." He moved the wand in a circular, upward motion in front of them and then approached Harry and Parkinson. "Understand your different points of view." He moved the wand again for a few seconds and took a couple of steps until he was in front of Draco and Hermione. "And, above all, I hope you have come to know each other better to avoid future conflicts."

Yes, the truth was they knew each other better… in many ways Hermione didn't want to tell the headmaster or even think about.

They exchanged one last look before the tip of that wand pointed at them and undid the spell, restoring their freedom.

Hermione followed Malfoy out of the headmaster's office on autopilot. A little voice in her head constantly told her she could now do what she had longed to do a week ago: run in the opposite direction from the boy without fear of crashing into an invisible wall. However, another part of her worked hard to silence that annoying voice to avoid facing reality.

She wanted to keep being near him, and as long as she still needed to collect her things from the Slytherin common room, she had an excuse to follow in his footsteps.

The first thing she did upon arriving was grab the bruise cream and, turning her back to Malfoy, carefully applied it to get rid of them as quickly as possible. They hurt like hell.

After that, she started folding her pajamas when Malfoy suddenly spoke to her:

"You're free now," he said, somberly, and somehow Hermione knew he wasn't referring to the punishment but to the fact that she would no longer have to witness the outbursts of that curse that tormented him so much.

"Yes. I hope you get free too… in time. You don't deserve what's happening to you," she responded, then bit her tongue to stop from saying more. "Well, I guess we've done our part. The punishment is over."

"Yes, it's over."

They stood in awkward silence for a long moment before Hermione finally went against her desires and decided it was time to leave. She had to accept it.

It was over.

She said goodbye and was surprised to find that as she walked away, she silently fought against a strange force she couldn't see, pulling her back as if she were still tied to him.

She pondered for a moment and concluded that what now chained her to him wasn't the power of a spell but something emotional.

"Wait."

Hermione quickly turned around.

"Yes?"

She had been hoping for that, for him to call or stop her, giving her an excuse to stop leaving.

Because she didn't want to leave.

She wanted to be honest, to rip her feelings out of her chest and hand them to him, to lay them in his palms and let him know they belonged to him. That she had been confused enough about them to realize that, whether it made sense or not, she had fallen madly in love with the part of him she had seen during the punishment, the part that wasn't arrogant or egotistical, as he tried to show others, but vulnerable and tormented in a way that made her want to run to him and hold him tightly against her chest. She had discovered that he had learned as much from his mistakes as from his father's and had seen in him a good, honest part that would rather die than take advantage of someone else to save himself.

That hidden glimmer of light in him, against all odds, had managed to captivate her.

But she knew she couldn't say that.

Especially since he had only stopped her to say…

"You forgot your bag," he said.

Her beaded bag was on the couch, hidden behind a couple of black velvet cushions.

Malfoy picked it up and handed it to her, but it slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor before Hermione could grab it, and a large number of items scattered around them.

They both bent down at the same time to pick up the mess, but their hands flew in the same direction and ended up tangled together on the stone floor.

They looked into each other's eyes for a moment, embarrassed, then quickly broke the eye contact. Malfoy blinked, and Hermione looked away.

There were so many things on the floor it was hard to believe all of it had been inside the small beaded bag a moment ago.

"Krum?" Draco asked, and for a second, Hermione seemed confused. "Viktor Krum?"

When Hermione looked up and saw that the Slytherin was holding her correspondence, she had to suppress a scream.

She took it from his hands and gathered the rest. With everything that had happened in the last few days, she had completely forgotten she had letters to open. Damn, her mother would be hysterical when she realized her response wasn't as punctual as usual. She urgently needed to write a letter before her mother thought something terrible had happened and decided to come and check that her dear daughter was okay. The last time she was a bit late in responding to her letters, her mother had tried to go through the wall connecting King's Cross to platform nine and three-quarters, only to get a big bump on her forehead.

"I have to go," she told Malfoy, finishing gathering her things and running out of there.

She knew she had class now, but she went straight to her own common room and, once inside, took a seat at a distant table.

She took the correspondence out of her bag and looked at her mother's letter. She knew her mother would worry if she didn't hurry to respond, but… Krum's letter piqued her curiosity more, so she opened that one first.

Viktor's unmistakable thick, irregular strokes filled the parchment, and judging by the number of brief paragraphs, his characteristic way of writing hadn't changed. He always got straight to the point, being short and concise. Curious about what he had to say, she began to read.

Dear Hermione,

It has been a long time since we talked. I hope you are well.

I became a Dueling professor at Durmstrang after I graduated.

Next month, I am going to Hogwarts for a matter between schools.

I am writing to you in May. I don't know when this letter will reach you, but I will be there on the first Monday of June.

We can meet if it suits you and catch up in person.

As you see, my English has improved a lot.

Hugs,

Viktor.

Hermione let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, then plunged her arm into the beaded bag, searching until she found her planner.

She flipped through the pages almost desperately until she reached the yearly calendar.

Damn.

The first Monday of June was TODAY.