Chained to You
A/N: Here is chapter three. Thanks for all the reviews. This story will be as short as possible, around ten to twelve chapters long.
Chapter Three: What!?
Hermione hurried into her next class, the remnants of tears still glistening on her cheeks. Taking a deep breath, she glanced around the room until her eyes landed on Harry and Ron, who were seated together in the middle of the classroom. A smile broke through her distress as she made her way toward them. Just then, Hagrid stepped out from the back, his large frame filling the doorway. Hermione waved enthusiastically at him, feeling a surge of warmth from his friendly presence, before settling down next to her friends.
As she took her seat, Harry leaned closer, his brow furrowed with concern. "Hermione," he spoke softly, his voice barely above a whisper. He could see the redness around her eyes, a telltale sign that something had upset her, but he chose not to pry. Instead, Hermione returned his look with a grateful smile, and Harry silently mouthed, "Thank you," conveying his support. Ron, sitting next to Harry, flashed her an encouraging grin, his vibrant red hair catching the sunlight and making it almost appear to glow.
As the class progressed, the lesson slowly edged toward its conclusion. Hermione felt a mix of anxiety and relief as they prepared to move on to their final class of the day. Clutching her books, she followed Harry and Ron into the Transfiguration classroom. She found a seat at their usual table, positioned with Harry to her right and Ron behind her, engaged in light banter with Neville. Apprehensive, she scanned the room and felt an unsettling chill as she caught Zabini's gaze. He was watching her intently with a smug grin, and she quickly turned away, her heart racing at his attention.
Just then, Professor McGonagall entered the room, her sharp eyes warming as she greeted her students with a professional smile. "Today, we will be learning…" Hermione felt her focus slip as thoughts of the mysterious bracelet, and Malfoy started to swirl in her mind, drowning out the teacher's words.
"Hermione…" she heard Harry whisper urgently into her ear, jolting her back to reality. She blinked, somewhat surprised, looking up to see Professor McGonagall already discussing the lesson at the front of the class. Reminded of her surroundings, she offered Harry a grateful smile and nodded in acknowledgment, thankful that he had brought her back to the present. With renewed determination, she began to swiftly jot down the notes from the blackboard, occasionally glancing up to observe her classmates as they diligently copied the information, everyone intently focused on the lesson ahead.
Hermione quickly jotted down her notes, her quill moving rhythmically across the parchment as she focused intently on the lecture. The earlier episode that had unsettled her slowly faded from her mind, overtaken by the sound of the teacher's voice and the rustling of pages around her. As the final bell rang with its familiar clang, she gathered her belongings—a leather pouch, her wand, and a few crumpled pieces of parchment—before heading out of the classroom.
Walking side by side with Harry and Ron, she felt a sense of comfort in their company as they made their way toward the Gryffindor common room. The hallways buzzed with students, laughter echoing off the stone walls, but her mind lingered on the thought that had been troubling her.
"Hermione, are you okay?" Harry queried, concern etched on his face. "You seemed a bit off last period. Is it something to do with the bracelet?"
She hesitated for a moment, knowing the worry that came with the conversation. "No, it's not that… but Malfoy knows about it, and he…" Her voice trailed off, the weight of her words hanging in the air as they continued toward the warmth and familiarity of their common room.
"What!" Ron shouted, his voice echoing through the cozy confines of the Gryffindor common room. The crackling fireplace cast flickering shadows on the walls as Hermione bolted toward him, her eyes wide with fear. Instinctively, she shrank back, trembling as the weight of his outburst hung in the air. "Oh no, Hermione. I'm so sorry! I wasn't mad at you, just at Malfoy," Ron stammered, his voice dropping to a softer tone as he reached out his hand toward her, desperation lacing his words.
Harry watched the scene unfold with a heavy heart, a deep sigh escaping his lips. He felt a sharp pang of regret for the events that had transpired in that other world where his best friend had endured so much pain. It was as if they were walking on eggshells around Hermione now, each of them acutely aware that a simple raised voice could send her scurrying back into her shell. The thought of his alternate self weighed heavily on him; he hated him for what had transpired, and he could see that Ron shared that feeling.
Stepping closer, Harry summoned a small smile, hoping it would reassure her even a little. He felt a fierce surge of protectiveness toward Hermione; he longed for her to see that her friends were still her allies, no matter the ghosts of the past. Slowly, Hermione emerged from her hiding place, her body tense as she stepped into the light. She took a deep breath as if trying to gather the scattered pieces of her courage.
Deep down, she knew she had to regain control. She didn't want to feel frightened of the boys she had grown up with, yet the residual effects of her trauma from that other world clouded her mind. Despite her efforts to heal, every loud voice or sudden movement sent a ripple of dread through her, and she jumped at even the smallest noise. With determination etched on her face, Hermione resolved to push through this fear. She was getting better—she had to believe that—because she didn't want to let her past dictate her present any longer.
She took a deep breath, inhaling the crisp air around her, and released it slowly, feeling the tension at ease. A soft smile broke across her face as she met Ron's concerned gaze. "I'm sorry, Ron. I know you were really upset about Malfoy," she said gently, her voice steadying him.
Ron nodded, the frustration still flickering in his eyes, but then he stepped forward and enveloped her in a warm hug. Harry, never one to be left out of important moments, quickly joined in, wrapping his arms around both of them. In that moment of camaraderie, an unspoken pact formed between the three of them; they were determined to ensure that Hermione was alright and safe from any further threats.
As they broke the embrace, Hermione's expression turned serious. "Listen, guys, Malfoy is definitely going to be looking for a way to get rid of the bracelet," she warned, glancing around as if the very mention of his name might summon him. She went on to explain that Zabini had been curious about it, and in a moment that made her skin crawl, he grabbed her arm in a way that was far from gentle.
The mention of Zabini sparks anger in both Harry and Ron. "I swear, if I see him again, I'll punch him right in the face!" Ron growled, his fists clenching at his sides. Hermione shook her head firmly, her tone sharp as she countered, "But remember, it was Malfoy who saved me from him."
Harry listened intently, processing the information with furrowed brows while Ron began to pace, his agitation growing with each step. Suddenly, he halted and opened his mouth as if to unleash a scream of frustration, but he quickly snapped it shut again, inhaling deeply through his nose. His brow furrowed in determination; he was resolved to confront Zabini, no matter the consequences. The thought alone made his heart race with adrenaline, and he genuinely didn't care about any trouble that might come from it.
Draco Malfoy let out a weary sigh as Hermione Granger walked away, the echoes of their earlier conversation still lingering in the air. He could feel the weight of her words pressing against him, leaving him unsettled.
"Draco… I wanted to know," Blaise Zabini said beside him, breaking the silence that enveloped them. His tone hinted at curiosity, the kind that always seemed to spark Draco's sense of urgency.
"Let's get going then," Draco replied curtly, waving off the impending question.
"Blaise, I promise I'll tell you everything after classes," he added, almost pleading, as he caught the glimmer of anticipation in Blaise's eyes. He sensed his friend was about to pry into matters he wasn't yet ready to divulge.
The two boys made their way down the stone corridors of Hogwarts, shadows dancing in the flickering torchlight as they headed toward their last class of the day. Draco's mind was elsewhere, a whirlwind of thoughts fixating on the mysterious bracelet that Granger had mentioned. She had shared only fragments of the story, and that nagging feeling in his gut told him there was more she wasn't revealing. He felt an acute sense of urgency; without the complete truth, he was rendered practically powerless.
The notion of being useless was foreign to Draco Malfoy. He prided himself on his cunning and resourcefulness, but in this instance, he was at a serious disadvantage. He resolved that he would have to coax the full story out of her at some point, ideally after he managed to navigate the crowded chaos of their Defense Against the Dark Arts class. He grumbled inwardly at the thought; Granger was never easy to corner, especially with the likes of Potter and Weasley perpetually hovering around her, not to mention Ginny Weasley adding another layer of protection.
Draco ruminated over his predicament, plotting his strategy as they approached their classroom. He knew he would need to adopt a more stealthy approach if he wanted to uncover the truth. With determination coursing through him, he stepped into the classroom and settled into his seat. He pulled out his textbook, forcing himself to focus on the lesson, pen gliding across the page as he took notes. Yet, even as he wrote, his thoughts continued to drift back to the tangled web of secrets surrounding Hermione Granger, each new detail only fueling his desire to unravel the mystery.
The unmistakable sound of the bell resonated through the ancient halls of Hogwarts, signalling the end of yet another class. Draco Malfoy heaved a sigh, the weight of the day settling on his shoulders as he began to pack his bag. His fingers moved deftly as he gathered his scrolls and quills, and all the while, his steel-grey eyes darted around the room, absorbing the familiar sights of his fellow students bustling about. With a last glance back, he strode towards the heavy door, his determination fueling each step.
As he exited the grand castle, the crisp air of Hogwarts enveloped him. The lush grounds stretched before him, but Draco had a singular purpose in mind: he made his way toward the Slytherin dormitories. Approaching the stone wall, he paused to collect his thoughts. With quiet confidence, he muttered the password, "Mudblood Scrum," and watched as the ancient stones shifted, revealing a brilliant spectacle of green and black flames that flickered and danced within the entrance to the common room.
Once inside, Draco proceeded to the dormitory he shared with his closest friends: Blaise, Theo, and two others, Ryan Hollen and Kenneth Roy. He dropped his bag onto his neatly made bed, glancing around at the familiar chaos that characterized their living space—clothes strewn about, books stacked precariously, and various trinkets collecting dust. But the comfort of his surroundings was short-lived, as he felt the urge to step back into the fray of conversation.
Not long after, Blaise entered the room, a curious expression on his face as he settled onto his bed. "You seem tense, Malfoy. What's going on?" he prompted, anticipation hanging in the air.
Draco took a deep breath and shared the troubling news about the bracelet he'd learned from Hermione Granger, detailing the enchantment that had been placed upon it. As he spoke, he noticed Blaise's expression shift from curiosity to disgust, a reaction that mirrored his inner turmoil.
"Hey, don't pin this on me," Draco snapped defensively, his voice tinged with frustration. "I'm just as horrified by this whole situation. But I can't leave Granger hanging. I'm going to help her figure this out." He searched Blaise's eyes, hoping to convey the seriousness of the matter. "You're my best friend, Blaise. This is between us. No one else can know, alright? I need to consult my father about charms like this."
Blaise leaned back, contemplating Draco's words, then nodded slowly. "I can help with that," he replied, though his eyes were filled with skepticism. "But I can't shake this feeling that there's more to it than what we're seeing."
Draco's heart sank at the thought. "I know. Granger is the only one privy to this knowledge unless… she could have confided in that insufferable trio: Potter, Weasley, and Red. I need to find a way to get the truth from her without scaring her off. She deserves to know that I'm on her side," Draco muttered under his breath, plotting his next move. The burden of this secret weighed heavily on him, but he was determined to unravel the truth, no matter the cost.
Blaise leaned back in his chair, a playful gleam in his eye as he proposed, "What about a truth potion?"
Draco raised an eyebrow, intrigued, and a knowing smirk crossed his lips. "You know, that could actually work," he replied thoughtfully, contemplating the implications of such a potent concoction.
Both made their way down to the vast, echoing great hall, the familiar scent of roasted meats and freshly baked bread wafting through the air as they entered the room. Blaise, confident as ever, strolled over to the Slytherin table and plopped down onto one of the long benches. The sound of wooden legs scraping against the stone floor broke the morning's chatter.
Draco, on the other hand, casually scanned the room, his gaze flicking over the Gryffindor table. He hoped to catch a glimpse of Granger, but she was nowhere to be seen, which didn't particularly surprise him. Instead, his attention was drawn to the fiery-haired Weasley and his thick-headed friend Potter, who were both glaring daggers at Blaise from across the hall. The intensity of their expressions suggested that they had just exchanged some heated words about his friend.
Noticing that Ginny wasn't seated there yet, Draco deduced that she must be with Granger, possibly discussing their latest escapades. With a mild sigh, he strode toward the Slytherin table, filling his plate with succulent chicken, fluffy potatoes, and a variety of other tempting dishes. He gripped his fork and knife firmly, the silver glinting under the enchanted ceiling, and began to eat, savouring the flavours while letting the surrounding noise of students fill the air around him.
As Hermione sat in her cozy nook of the Gryffindor common room, the pages of yet another book lay open before her, but her mind was far from absorbed in the text. Frustration gnawed at her as she traced her fingers over the bracelet that clung tightly to her wrist—a constant, unyielding reminder of the recent encounter with Draco Malfoy. The tantalizing mystery of what spell or charm he had used to bind it to her was driving her to distraction. Each time she tried to concentrate on her reading, her thoughts drifted back to the bracelet, swirling with uncertainty and a mounting sense of urgency.
Hermione felt a pang of anxiety as she tried to convince herself that the bracelet could be removed. If only she could channel her knowledge of advanced Charms into a solution! She had spent hours enchanting various incantations, her wand dancing through the air with intricate movements, but no charm seemed to have any effect on the stubborn accessory. Each casting only deepened her sense of defeat.
Now, she was preparing for her next approach: potions. The thought of experimenting with her extensive collection of potion ingredients, with their vivid colours and intriguing fragrances, held a glimmer of hope. Yet, as she methodically opened each vial and carefully measured out the components, she couldn't shake the ominous feeling that hung over her. With each new potion she brewed, she faced unexpected side effects: an irritating itch here, a sudden dizziness there, and with every misstep, her frustration grew.
Undeterred, she took a deep breath, steadied her hands, and tried to focus. Hermione knew she couldn't give up; unravelling the mystery of that bracelet would take everything she had. The lingering question played in her mind—would she ever reclaim her freedom from Malfoy's enchantment?
Hermione had some thoughts about time travelling back before the accident in potions class, which had sent her to that world. But she didn't think it would work. Next was one thought, but it went out faster. She returned the last book to its designated spot on the shelf, the spine creaking softly as it nestled among its companions. With a distracted mind and her thoughts swirling, she began to walk away, not paying attention to her surroundings. Suddenly, she collided with something solid, jolting her from her reverie. Looking up, she found herself face-to-face with none other than Theo Nott, his expression a mix of amusement and curiosity as a sly grin spread across his features.
"Well, well, Granger," he drawled, a playful glint in his eyes. "What does that bracelet on your wrist say? Let me guess—'Property of Draco Malfoy'? I'm assuming it came from that world of yours." He leaned in slightly, studying her, a hint of mischief evident in his demeanour. "Though, it looks like you're trying to get it off… but therein lies your dilemma." His voice trailed off, leaving the tension hanging between them, the implications of his words lingering in the air.
Hermione's heart raced as she met his gaze, her voice trembling with uncertainty as she asked, "How do you know?" Dread coiled within her, and her eyes darted around the dimly lit common room, desperately checking for the looming silhouettes of Malfoy or Zabini. A chill ran down her spine, a visceral reaction to the fear that enveloped her like a cold shroud.
Theo smirked slightly, a glint of mischief in his slate-grey eyes. "Well, Draco and Blaise really should have ensured they were the only ones here," he replied calmly, his tone laced with a hint of sarcasm. "Lucky for them, it was just me hanging around. I happened to overhear their conversation, and I must say, I found their version of events quite… lacking in honesty. Don't you agree, Granger?" His gaze traversed her form, assessing as if he could read the turmoil she was experiencing.
"Relax, Granger," he continued, leaning back against the wall with an air of feigned indifference. "I'm not here to hurt you. Sure, I might enjoy teasing and taunting you - it's rather entertaining if I'm honest - but I would never resort to physical harm." He paused, a more serious expression shifting across his features. "But about that bracelet on your wrist," he added, his tone steely, "there's only one person who can remove it, and it's not Draco at this moment. It's the Draco from the other world who needs to take it off."
With that cryptic statement hanging in the air, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Hermione standing there, her thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and a creeping sense of dread.
Hermione stood in shock, the weight of Nott's words hanging heavily in the air around her. Her heart raced as she opened her mouth to ask him for more information, but before she could form a single coherent thought, Nott had vanished into thin air. Determined to uncover what he had meant, she took off down the dimly lit corridor, her footsteps echoing against the cold stone walls.
As she rounded the corner, Hermione's heart sank—Nott was nowhere to be found. Instead, she found herself face to face with Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini, who were leaning casually against the wall, deep in conversation. The sight of Malfoy sent a jolt of fear coursing through her, and for a brief moment, she hesitated, feeling the all-too-familiar pang of anxiety that came with encountering the Slytherin heir.
But she quickly reminded herself that this was not the same Malfoy she had known in her world; this was thought to be a different version, one shaped by other circumstances. Gritting her teeth, Hermione forced herself to approach, even as her instincts screamed at her to turn and run.
Both boys turned their attention to her, their expressions shifting from casual indifference to mild curiosity. Malfoy, with an air of aloofness that was typical of him, inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment, although he remained rooted in place. Meanwhile, Zabini offered her a smirk that seemed to contain a hint of amusement, then waved a hand dismissively before returning to his conversation with Malfoy as if she were merely a passing distraction.
Hermione's mind raced as she tried to piece together her next move. She had come seeking answers, and yet here she was, caught between the familiar and the unknown, the quiet tension thickening the air around them.
A/N - I couldn't help but ponder the intriguing possibilities that lay ahead. What could unfold next?