January 3, 1999
"Ginny—"
"You can't possibly be serious—"
"Ginny, give it a rest—"
"I mean, of all people, too!"
"But we need to get going—"
"Oh no you don't. When did this happen? And why didn't I hear about it as soon as it did?"
"Because you, along with the rest of your family, were asleep. Is this really important right now? We're going to be late for class," Hermione retorted impatiently as she patted down her hair whilst exiting the common room.
"Of course it's important, Hermione! I've been pestering you all semester about this and it only takes George one damn night?!" Ginny exclaimed, helping her with the residual stray strands as Hermione extracted her wand. Even with her typically reliable hair potion, her hair was clearly not cooperating today. With a quick swish, Hermione's hair was finally in place. "Much better," Ginny said, pleased.
"He caught me off guard, that's all," Hermione retorted while pocketing her wand, leading their journey to their first class of the new semester.
"George caught you off guard. My brother, George Weasley, the grown man who can't keep a straight face when someone says 'do do'."
"Maybe he has a better way with words than you," Hermione grinned when Ginny narrowed her eyes in displeasure.
"Say that again and I will reduce your entire book collection to ashes."
Hermione rolled her eyes in response. "I have duplicates. Now hurry up, will you? We're going to be late." On cue, Ginny picked up the pace to walk alongside her.
"Eager to see someone, aren't we?"
"Ginny—"
"Fine, fine. Class first, torment after."
With minutes to spare, the pair made it to the first potions class of the year. They split off upon entering and with much reluctance, Hermione made her way to her seat next to Malfoy who looked like he arrived only seconds before her. As she approached him, she allowed her gaze to linger. If he'd been in a rush, she couldn't tell. No matter the circumstances, he was always neatly pressed as a pin. An annoying pin that happened to have a stupidly attractive face attached to it.
After taking her seat, she decided to busy herself with searching for the potions textbook in her enchanted bag, awaiting the moment for Slughorn to come through the door any second now. She could only hope that he wouldn't initiate a conversation prior to their professor's arrival—
"Granger," came the dreaded, inevitable drawl.
Resisting the urge to make any potential responses that might result in unwanted attention, she forced out a short, cordial 'good morning,' and continued to rummage through her bag. With any luck, her hands would stop trembling by the time she actually located her textbook.
"Did you have a good holiday?" he ventured slowly.
"I did. And yourself?" Out came her distracted tone as her hand landed on something tattered and worn. She'd found her book. Still, she didn't take her hands out of her bag.
"It was…busy."
Sure it was, she thought. Busy shacking up with the woman you used to claim to resent while sending gifts to another woman.
She closed her eyes, forcing herself to take a deep breath.
Calm down, Hermione. It's just Malfoy.
Malfoy, who you've been apparently dreaming about for months.
Dreams where you kiss and grind and writhe against him like a wanton—
"—Granger, are you alright?" Malfoy inquired, sounding anything but concerned.
"Of course. Why do you ask?" She managed hoarsely, refusing to look up and incidentally slamming the book on their desk loud enough to garner the attention of several surrounding classmates. All of whom flinched except for him.
"Your behavior is rather strange. Even for you," he alluded dryly, glancing down at her textbook encroaching on his half of their desk.
An eye twitched as she forced a smile, faintly recognizing Slughorn's voice in the background as he arrived.
"I'm perfectly well," she said quietly, pulling her book closer and absentmindedly flipping to a random page.
He raised a brow at her as if to say, sure you are. Instead, he remained silent as he, too, flipped his book open — albeit, to the correct page. "I think we should talk," he supplied.
"Lecture is about to start," she retorted smartly, to which he rolled his eyes.
"After class."
"We have ancient runes."
"Lunch, then."
"Ginny wanted to walk through a problem set together."
"Dinner."
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"We're having pasta tonight."
He blinked at her. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"I'm doing the honorable thing in saving you from horrid garlic breath."
His jaw clenched, a glint in his eyes. "You're being particularly difficult. Even more than usual."
"Ah, now you know how I feel."
She fought a smile, unable to help but feel a sense of satisfaction at the ease she felt with him. Regardless, she needed to put an end to it. To the teasing, the playful banter, the not-so-playful banter.
"Look, can we just forget it? I'm fine. I appreciate your peace offering despite it being unnecessary."
"Peace offering?" he repeated, confusion etched into his brow.
"Yes, you've made it clear how you feel regarding the situation. Let's just leave it."
It was clear he had no intention of leaving it.
"Granger—"
"I said leave it, Malfoy—" she hissed lowly. But not lowly enough.
"Miss Granger, care to share with the class?"
A gasp escaped Hermione as they both turned from each other to face Professor Slughorn who donned a look of disapproval from where he stood at the front of the classroom.
"Just expressing how happy I am to be back at school, sir," she quipped in spite of her nerves being frayed.
"I share your enthusiasm, Miss Granger, but I think it polite to keep it down for those who don't know potions like the back of their hand." With a curt nod in their direction, he turned and started talking about ideal conditions in which to brew an Elixir to Induce Euphoria.
Cheeks flushed from frustration, Hermione tried to focus on taking notes the rest of lecture, ignoring her boiling blood and pounding in her ears. As well as the occasional sensation of an unwavering steely stare aimed at the side of her head.
"What happened this morning?" Ginny inquired as she ran to catch up to the fleeing brunette.
"Nothing happened," Hermione quipped sharply, continuing her hastened pace.
The second Ancient Runes came to an end, Hermione bolted from the classroom, feeling like she couldn't get away fast enough. Despite Malfoy's call beckoning her to turn around and face him — amongst other things — her flight instincts were slightly more overpowering this time.
"Hermione—"
"Can we talk about something else, please?" she pleaded, on the brink of losing every ounce of patience she had left.
Just once, she wanted to have a conversation today that didn't revolve around Malfoy. It was an inevitable discussion and she knew it was only a matter of time. Still, she utilized the same excuse she always used.
She wasn't ready yet.
"Ron seemed in better spirits," Ginny decided.
With her shoulders deflating, Hermione agreed with a heavy sigh.
"Yes, it was nice to be able to see him. As well as your parents and George. I'm glad you and Harry convinced me to go."
"Nice of him to get you something, too."
"Yes, I suppose it was," Hermione drew slowly, having an inkling she wasn't going to like where this was headed.
"Bit strange though, wasn't it? I was sure I'd seen that same book on your nightstand before," Ginny implored, tapping her chin. "Surely he knew about it."
Ah, and there it was. The topic she'd desperately wanted to avoid.
"I like to have duplicate copies," the curly-haired witch claimed, a truth in its entirety. Though the specifics as to why she was given the same book twice she decided to keep to herself.
Before Ginny could conjure a response, a timid voice caught their attention.
"Er, Miss Hermione Granger?"
The pair looked downward at a second year Slytherin clutching onto a stack of envelopes.
"Yes?" Hermione confirmed, unease dissipating.
"This is for you," the young boy said, grabbing the top one from the stack and holding it out for her to take.
"Thank you," she trailed off, realizing the boy wandered off the second she'd taken the envelope from him. Upon seeing the Ministry's seal at the lip, Hermione dove straight in. Somewhere in the middle of opening the unnecessarily lavish envelope, she took note of the lack of rapid questions and nonstop prying. Midway of extracting the contents, she stared at Ginny curiously.
"What?" Ginny blurted, earning herself a suspicious glare.
"You're not even remotely curious about what this is?"
"I am. Just thought I'd give you a bit of space," Ginny merely shrugged, seemingly indifferent.
As she unfolded the sheets of parchment, Hermione knew this was no ordinary mail. Just the feel of the paper alone told her as such. As her eyes trailed along the page, her frown deepened.
"It's an invitation to a ball. A charity gala."
"Oh?" Ginny offered. Then, Hermione side eyed her.
"You have one of these already, don't you?" Hermione didn't wait for her response before she followed up with, "it doesn't matter. I'm not going."
"What do you mean? Of course you're going, why wouldn't you?" Despite her words, Ginny lacked any genuine surprise to her response.
"Did you read the part where it's going to be held at Malfoy Manor?"
"Not in the actual manor, it's in the courtyard," Ginny corrected, as if it would make a difference.
"Even if they renovated the entire building, I'm not stepping foot anywhere near that place." To her credit, the nightmares taking place in his drawing room haven't happened for quite some time now. Ironically enough, they stopped right about when the dreams of him began.
While the likelihood of her experiencing a panic attack during the event was low, the last thing she needed was to be involved in a social event when she needed to be focusing on her studies. A cruel lesson she learned after Slughorn's party. Let alone an event at his family home. His home where she would be forced to see that witch draped all over him.
"Besides, I have other things to tend to—" she added in a flippant tone, aiming to set her invitation on fire but Ginny snatched it out of her hand before she could do so.
Evading Hermione's glare, the redhead quickly scanned over the invitation, widening more and more as she progressed further along.
"Um, Hermione—"
"No, if Malfoy can't be honest with me and how he feels, then I refuse to give him the time of day."
"But—"
"How can he look at me like he did nothing wrong? He has to know, right? I mean honestly Ginny."
"I understand but I really think you should read this again—"
Hermione shook her head stubbornly. "There's no point. Even if I wanted to go, I wouldn't have time to find a date. I'm fairly certain Theo won't be available for this one." To which Ginny exhaled a nervous laugh.
"I don't think you'll have to worry about finding a date." Hermione merely scoffed.
"Fair point. His mother probably set me up with a blind date so I don't bring anyone unacceptable in their society's eyes. How studious of her—"
"Hermione," Ginny said sternly, forcibly grabbing the witch's attention. "You should read this again," she commanded softly, holding the letter out for Hermione to take. With a regrettable sigh, she snatched it back and began to recite;
"Dear Miss Hermione Granger—mmph!"
Ginny had slapped a hand over her mouth and dragged her into a secluded alcove.
"What on Earth, Ginny!" Hermione demanded angrily when she removed her hand.
"Shush! Not so loud!"
"Everyone probably has one of these—"
"They don't—"
"—and they're all likely to say the same thing," Hermione concluded, watching Ginny with a wary gaze as the redhead remained wary.
"Read the letter again. Please."
Furrowing her brow, she did as instructed and in subtle tones this time.
"You are cordially invited to attend the Ministry of Magic's 1st annual Charity Gala on Saturday, February 13th, 1999 at 7pm held in the courtyard of Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire. We would greatly appreciate it if you came and attended to celebrate the welfare, health and the current state of the wizarding community as we continue on this journey to better our future.
Looking forward to your company.
Yours,
DM
NOTICE: Any students of Hogwarts providing an invitation have been granted permission by Headmistress McGonagall to use the floo network for this one night only. Furthermore, any and all elves working the night of the event have volunteered on their behalf as part of the ongoing S.P.E.W. campaign.
…" she finished, eyes widening with disbelief. "How...that's not possible."
"What are you going to do now?"
"I have to go. I have to go to show support."
Ginny was surprised by her sudden change of heart.
"Seriously?"
"Well I didn't realize S.P.E.W. was involved."
Then, Ginny's jaw fell. "That's what caught your attention?" she asked incredulously.
"What do you mean? It's my organization! I started S.P.E.W.!"
Deciding to take a different route, Ginny closed her mouth and pointed to a section on the letter. More specifically, to the very bottom where his signature lay. "This isn't just an invitation to the gala. Malfoy signed this himself."
"So?" Hermione asked, confused. "The event is at his house. I'm sure he helped send out these invitations."
Ginny maintained a steady expression as she fished out her own invitation for Hermione to view.
"This is the letter Harry sent me. See if you can spot any differences."
As Hermione read the letter, she already saw two obvious differences. One, it was signed with Kingsley's scrawled signature. And two, there was no mention of S.P.E.W. anywhere.
"Kingsley didn't mention S.P.E.W.," she exhaled with uncertainty.
"Hermione—"
"Why would Malfoy feel the need to add a section about the elves working here?" she continued, ignoring her. "I didn't even know he knew my program existed. At least, not until—"
Until he asked about it a few months prior.
When they were still at wits end with one another.
"Maybe it's incentive for you to attend," Ginny suggested.
"Because I was tortured the last time I was in his house?" Hermione retorted dryly. Instead, Ginny slowly shook her head with a grave expression.
"If you ask me, I think he's asking you to be his date."
Her scattered thoughts came to a screeching halt.
His date?
"Very funny, Ginny," Hermione let out a uneasy laugh.
"I'm serious, Hermione. With an event as grand as this and to get such a personal invitation...you're familiar enough with Pureblood etiquette to know this isn't typical."
"Maybe Malfoy doesn't know it's not typical," Hermione attempted lamely, shoulders slumping when Ginny tossed her a 'nice try' look.
"It wouldn't hurt to ask him about it," she insisted. "While you're at it, maybe bring up what made you so upset after Slughorn's party?"
"You were there! You saw what happened."
"I told you, most of that night was a blur for me. I remember showing up and being upset at Harry. Then snogging him. Then getting upset again because he wouldn't let me kiss him so I drank my sorrows away. Then, nothing," she explained, still unable to recall anything.
They'd talked about it briefly during the holiday. But with Ginny having no apparent recollection of the majority of the evening and the urge to lose her breakfast that came with merely thinking about it, Hermione decided it best to not speak of it. Instantly regretting having said anything, she shook her head, contemplating.
"Regardless, you should talk to him. Get your stories straight."
As her eyes darted between their invitations, she decided Ginny was right. The time had come to have this dreaded conversation. One that would surely lead to a week or so of awkwardness and tension. One that would lead to the loss of several friendships if the loyalty Blaise and Theo demonstrated its strength. At the end of it all, they could move on with their lives and never have to speak of it again. It all sounded wonderful in theory.
"Oi Princess!"
"Not now, Blaise. I'm not in the mood," Hermione snapped, watching as the wizard reached her and braced himself on his knees.
"Didn't think you would be," he said out in pants, righting himself when Hermione began to walk away. "But I think you're going to want to hear this; Astoria's getting sent to another school—whoa!" His words caused Hermione to stop in place, almost resulting in him colliding into her if it weren't for his reflexes. "Careful."
"Why does this concern me?" She asked coldly.
"I—well—" he began dumbly.
"Look, if Malfoy's upset and wishes for condolences, I'm afraid I have nothing to say to him."
Blaise furrowed his brow. "But Draco's not—"
"And let him know that I refuse to be his friend if he can't be honest with himself."
Immediately, Blaise's demeanor shifted into a more defensive one.
"Granger, that's not fair."
"Isn't it? I can't believe you would continue to support this ridiculous notion of he and I. Especially after Slughorn's Christmas party. I saw everything, Blaise."
Blaise paused and gave her a shoulder a sympathetic squeeze while considering his next words.
"I'm sorry," he treaded carefully, "I understand you're upset. Really I do, but that's something you need to take up with him. Not me." When she showed no signs of resisting, he continued. "Granger, would you please come with me?"
"I doubt anything you have to show me will make me feel better," Hermione sighed, looking thoroughly defeated. As though she'd come to the conclusion that she was not at all prepared to put as much distance between Malfoy's associates and herself as possible. Associates she now deemed as her friends. No better place to start than now, she figured.
"Astoria's leaving Hogwarts."
"You've said that already," she said in a clipped tone, already beginning to walk off.
"She's packing her things as we speak." Instantly, Hermione faltered in her steps. Still, he spoke. "Thought you'd be jumping at the chance to say good riddance."
She turned her head sideways.
"Where is she going?"
"Why don't you come ask her yourself?"
"I don't want to be doing him any favors," she countered, much to her surprise when he donned a handsome smile.
"No need. You've already done plenty," he waved a dismissive hand, leaving Hermione to wonder what he could possibly mean by that. "Let's go. We'll catch you later, Weasley."
"Wait, Ginny's not coming?"
"I've got somewhere else to be," Ginny said in a rush before she, too, left in a hurry. Successfully dodging a bullet.
"For the record, I despise you," Hermione muttered under her breath as she turned back to him.
Blaise merely beamed at her, positively radiant as he led them to the Slytherin common room.
"You're really not going to tell me why she's leaving?" Hermione asked as he opened the door to the girl dormitories.
"I already told you, it's not my place," he said, casually leaning against the doorway, donning a ridiculous, wide grin. "Heeeeeey Tori, how's the packing coming along?" he hollered in a ridiculing tone. It was followed by a familiar snarl.
"What is it with you popping up when you're not wanted ?"
For once, Hermione could agree with her.
"Not to worry, I'm not here to pester you. I've brought someone who'd like to say hello. Or 'goodbye' rather," he nodded, directing her to head inside.
With great hesitance, she did so and as expected, was greeted with a shrieking, unwelcome voice.
"You wench! How dare you set foot in my room!"
Her room was currently in shambles, drawers wide open, clothes strewn about and her bed looked like it hadn't been made since their arrival. Hermione assumed the mirror hadn't come broken and the bedsheets weren't torn by the previous student occupying the space.
"It won't be your room for much longer," Blaise said, recoiling when Astoria threw a pillow at him.
"Get out of my sight!" she growled. "You've ruined everything!"
"Yes, I'm starting to receive that notion more so lately," Hermione retorted indifferently, glaring at Blaise had his arms crossed as he leaned against the post of her bed.
"So what? You've come to give me your best wishes?"
"Something like that," Hermione muttered, observing her peculiar packing methods. "Blaise, remind me again why you decided to bring me here?"
He went to respond, only to be cut off by a scoff.
"You mean you're not here to throw it all in my face?" Astoria snipped. "It's not like you haven't got all the wizards here under your belt."
Confounded and bewildered, Hermione exclaimed, "What are you talking about?"
With a sniff, Astoria angrily threw the shirt she was levitating into an open trunk. "You did something to him," she accused, jabbing a finger. "Turned him into someone I can't even recognize anymore."
Hermione scrunched her nose. "Blaise?"
"What, no! I'm talking about Draco."
"That's a bit dramatic, don't you think?" Hermione supplied dryly.
"Don't act coy. You're the reason why he's become so distant from me."
"Enlighten me," Hermione demanded, crossing her arms. "What did I do, exactly?"
"You seduced him, you whore. Of all people, it had to be you."
Blaise merely grinned.
"That's a lie. I've never made any advances towards him," she quipped, purposefully keeping their near kiss out of the conversation.
"You know Granger, we're not so different, you and I," Astoria acknowledged, a sly grin working its way across her face.
"Why would you say something so dreadful?" Hermione complained, earning a stifled laugh from Blaise.
"Leave us," Astoria said rudely, glaring at him.
To which, he barked a sarcastic laugh.
"Absolutely not—"
"Blaise," Hermione began, aware of his wary eyes on her when all she could focus on was Astoria. Astoria who was far easier to read into than Malfoy. There was a vulnerability she could spot. A desperation to be heard. But what stood out was a woman who'd been hurt. A near mirror image of herself at that moment. "It's okay. I can manage."
With utmost hesitance, Blaise backed out of the room. Within seconds, the pair of them were left alone.
"For the record, we're nothing alike," Hermione stated. "I don't talk to my friends like that."
"You mean you didn't boss around your two minions when they went to school here?" she asked with a lift. "Because I heard otherwise."
"I'm not here for you to interrogate me."
"Then why are you here, Granger?"
She wondered that herself.
"Blaise thought bringing me here would make me feel better. Clearly, he was mistaken," she said, already turning around to leave.
"How well do you think you know him?" Suddenly came from behind her.
She knew she wasn't asking about Blaise. It was an honest question, though entirely complicated. An honest, complicated question she asked herself daily. How well did she really know him?
"You think after working on that potion of yours, you suddenly know everything about him?" she taunted in a drawl laced with acid. "Do you even know why he picked it in the first place? Better yet, were you aware of the horrible habits he developed during the war that never really left him? Or has he been too preoccupied with telling you how he's changed? Has he been wasting his time trying to prove to you that he isn't the same person merely who stood by and watched you writhe in agony as his own family member tortured you in the same room he had his morning tea—?"
"Enough!"
It was only a matter of time before the last strand of her dwindling patience snapped. How opportunistic that it happened to be in the company of Astoria, the person she was least concerned with incidentally harming.
With an angry shout, she whipped out her wand and implementing a wordless 'Incarcerous', Astoria was bound and roped up to the bedpost.
With stunned eyes, Astoria stammered, "what is this?! Release me at once—" she faltered when Hermione aimed her wand directly at her face.
"Enough," Hermione repeated in a chilling calm. "I think it's my turn to ask questions, don't you think?"
Astoria said nothing further, and Hermione took that chance to speak.
"Why are you so set on being antagonistic towards me? We got along fine in the beginning, why did that all change?"
Timid eyes were focused at the wand inches away from her face before a response came.
"Because of you," she answered, struggling in her restraints.
"Be more specific," Hermione demanded. "How so?"
She could clearly see Astoria was fighting a response. Still, she answered. "He spent all of his free time with you. He stopped focusing during our meetings. I rarely saw him anymore."
"We told you it was a school assignment."
"It was more than that," she blurted in a way that appeared to pain her. "Draco wasn't the same once we started school. When we began the drafting of our agreement, he told me he'd been asked to come back. To take his N.E.W.T.s. and finish school 'properly,'" she added with distain. "I told him it was a waste of time. We could have gone ahead and gotten married and started a family."
"Why the rush? You're both so young." She couldn't help but wonder.
Out of nowhere, a certain darkness overcame Astoria. The hint of a smile had disappeared, as did the light in her eyes. When she laughed, it was far from cheerful.
"Oh, Granger. There's so much that you don't know. I'm honestly surprised Draco hasn't told you."
"I don't expect him to tell me everything. We're just friends."
Then, a sly grin plastered itself across her face. Hermione knew then, exactly why she was sorted in Slytherin.
"Do you really believe that?"
"Yes," Hermione answered with certainty. Though not for long, she thought inwardly. "I do."
She huffed another cruel laugh. "You know, for being as brilliant as they say you are, it really is unfortunate how you don't see something right in front of your face."
Hermione narrowed her eyes, processing their entire exchange for hints. For any clues as to what she was referring to. It crossed her mind to wonder why Astoria was sharing these details with her. Not without a fight, she noticed. The constant evasion between questions before eventual submission. Then, she realized.
"You can't lie, can you?" It wasn't a question. Astoria flashed a wicked grin in response.
"Let me put this plainly for you; Draco's playing you," she paused, letting her words sink. "He's playing you, just like he played me."
That took Hermione completely by surprise. She knew he'd been toying with her. But Astoria? After what she saw at the Slug party? He made it clear that he chose her.
"That's not possible. I know that's not—" Hermione cut off, unsure of how to phrase her words. "I was certain that he—"
"He what? Cared about me? Loved me?" She laughed hauntingly. "Draco never loved me, you stupid bint! He felt nothing of the sort for me! I was just a damn crutch! If it's anyone he has an ounce of feelings for, it's—"
Hermione blinked, watching the rapid motions of Astoria's mouth move without any sound. In the midst of her rage, Blaise had re-entered the room and silenced her.
"Salazar's sack, she was giving me such a headache," Blaise groaned while rubbing his temples.
"Why didn't you tell me she had truth serum in her system?" Hermione deadpanned, glaring at him.
"I was ordered to not disclose that information," Blaise said stiffly, contrasting with Astoria thrashing and visibly screaming in the background.
"By who?"
"Professor McGonagall."
"McGonagall?" Hermione echoed.
Blaise nodded.
"She wanted you to come talk to her," he explained earnestly. "Before it wore off."
"What?" He shrugged in response.
"I think she's trying to do what Dumbledore did with his unclear intentions with minimal instruction. That's my guess, anyway."
"But why did Astoria have it in the first place?"
Blaise withheld his tongue, regret embedded into his next words.
"I can't answer that, either."
Hermione scoffed out of frustration, prepared to exit before he put a hand on her shoulder, stopping her. "But there is someone who can," he provided. "Someone who can tell you everything."
Suddenly, the context of their conversation hit her and the fact that Astoria was under the effects of veritaserum brought a whole new layer of validity to it. She didn't know how long it had been since the serum was introduced to her, or whether she spoke the full truth or merely her own interpretations of it. All she knew was what she saw with her own eyes and her own experiences with Malfoy. Despite how she felt about the witch, no woman should ever be treated that way.
"This whole time, he's been playing both of us," she realized.
The last time a wizard made her feel like this, she threw hexes at him. But now, that all seemed like child's play.
Now, she wanted to tear his limbs apart.
"I'm not sure if that's—"
"The nerve of him—" she hissed, pocketing her wand and turning to exit.
"Hermione, wait," he tried to stall.
"Not now, Blaise. I think it's time Malfoy and I have a talk."
Blaise sighed in resignation and checked his watch. "Well if you leave now, he should be heading to—" he trailed off when she walked off without another word, nearly running into a stunned Theo who scrambled at the sight of her. He quickly stepped to the side as the raging witch stormed past him.
"Good luck, Princess!" Blaise called out after her, taking a seat in an empty chair to prop his feet up on the shelf. He cockily crossed his fingers behind his head, satisfied when Astoria fumed from where she was still tied up.
Theo, on the other hand, surveyed the surroundings, taking in Astoria's current predicament and state of her room. He sighed heavily and hung his head low.
"I thought we agreed to let them sort it out and that you weren't going to meddle," Theo droned in an accusational tone. To which Blaise threw his hands up in defeat.
"Hey, I actually tried to stop her this time. Can't help it if she's a scorned woman. But did you see how she stormed out like that? I'm telling you, they're perfect for each other."
"Sure. If she doesn't kill him first."
Blaise shrugged.
"Eh, he's made it this far."
When Hermione found Draco, he was talking to Ginny in the middle of a relatively empty corridor. Their conversation seemed civil, nothing out of the ordinary. But that didn't stop her from seeing red.
In an instant, she stormed towards him. As she got closer to the pair, Draco's eyes fell on her and widened. And when he saw her draw her hand back, his eyes flashed.
"You foul, evil, despicable bastard—" she growled but he was quick to react, retracting backwards to avoid her swing and grabbed her wrist. When she recoiled her other arm, he quickly reached for it, holding her struggling figure against his own.
"Granger, what the hell—"
"Hermione, what's gotten into you?" Ginny tried but it was no use.
"How dare you," she snarled while fighting against his unyielding hold.
"Calm yourself. You are making a scene," he demanded sharply.
"Stop pretending like you care," she hissed, still wrestling against his grasp. "Clearly this is all a joke to you."
Instead, he tightened his grip. To the point where it was almost painful.
"Let's talk. In. Private," he quipped in low tones. "Weasley, do make sure no one disturbs us, won't you?"
Then he looked back at the seething witch in his hold before tugging her along down the corridor, leading them into an empty classroom nearby and kicking the door closed behind them. He quickly muttered a silencing charm before glaring down at Hermione who hadn't shifted her expression.
"I'm going to let go of your wrists, Granger, but I need you to remain calm. Can you do that?" He asked, speaking as if he were talking down to a child.
"Don't talk to me like that," she spat.
"Your outlandish behavior has brought us to this point. Now, are we in agreement or do I need to restrain you?" he tested, a hint of something dangerous in his tone.
Withholding the urge to bite off his hint of a smirk, Hermione nodded slowly. With careful movements, he let her go as promised. Giving her some space, he then asked, "Now, care to share what's got you all wound up?"
"I knew you could be cruel but this has to be the single most humiliating thing you have ever done—"
"You're going to have to be a little more specific," he retorted airily.
A harsh laugh escaped her. "Don't act like you don't know what this is about."
He arched a perfectly groomed brow at her. "I don't."
She held the invitation up for him to see.
His stunned silence and dread in his eyes was all she needed for clarification.
"How did you—?"
"Malfoy, does it really matter how I got this?" she brusquely interrupted, nearing hysterics.
"No, I suppose it doesn't," he said flatly.
"Answer one thing for me," Hermione demanded, doing everything she could to keep her voice from trembling. "Have I done something to you? Have I said something to offend you or upset you or—?"
"That's verging on three things," he sniffed, despite her deadly glare.
"This," she emphasized by holding up the letter, "is only part of it. I can't believe you thought you could get away with not only messing with my head, but both of us at the same time!"
His eyebrows shot up. "Both of you?" he echoed.
"Do I really need to spell it out for you? I saw you at Slughorn's party," she said sharply, the genuine confusion etched onto his features only infuriating her even further.
"Granger, I honestly have no idea what you're talking about."
"Would you please stop making me feel more of an idiot than I already do?" she nearly pleaded. "We were in the middle of a social event for Merlin's sake!"
His eyes narrowed into silver slits. "What exactly did you see?"
"Right, of course," she huffed a sarcastic laugh, "how could you possibly know people were watching when you were so caught up in snogging her."
Malfoy opened his mouth and closed it repeatedly before clenching his jaw and pinching the bridge of his nose as he breathed deeply. Then, his shoulders started shaking and Hermione realized he was laughing. Soon, the sound of them came through and they were almost maniacal.
For a split second, Hermione was thrown back to their second year, her large teeth on display and his cruel laugh ringing in her ears. Then she remembered they weren't twelve. She didn't have hideous buck teeth anymore. But he was still very much a prat.
"What could you possibly find funny at a time like this?" she ground out through her teeth.
Eventually, the laughter subsided and when he finally looked at her, she was mildly comforted to notice a lack of ill-intention or malice. "I actually thought you were going to be the easiest one to explain all of this to. Brilliant, 'Golden Girl' Granger would never take something so simple, get it wrong, and blow it entirely out of proportion."
"Malfoy," she warned. Instead of stopping, he resumed his rant.
"I said earlier that 'we should talk' and for some reason, talking to everyone else except me was the appropriate solution—"
"Don't go pinning this on me—"
"Granger, for once in your life, would you shut up and let someone else speak?!" He cut in sharply and much to both of their surprise, she went silent.
"Merlin, I've wanted to do that for years," he said in wonderment. Hermione scoffed, rolling her eyes when he smiled brightly.
"Get to the point, Malfoy—"
"Astoria spiked the punch with amortentia."
Hermione's blood ran cold.
"She did what?" she prompted weakly.
"Sometime during the party, I don't know when, but she managed to switch out the punch long enough for Theo, Blaise and I, and apparently Weasley as I've just found out, to drink it. We think it had some sort of memory altering elixir in it as well."
There was the ever-so-slight hesitancy to take his word. Except this was the one thing that was consistent and could provide all of the answers she'd been looking for.
Ginny, who didn't remember that night after having one glass. Theo and Blaise, who Harry found, passed out despite having a history of ingesting significantly higher amounts of alcohol. Then, there was Malfoy, who managed to invalidate all of the reasons she'd previously been upset over.
Well, nearly all of them.
"How—" Hermione began with uncertainty, shaking her head wildly. "But, that's not possible. It didn't smell anything like—" she trailed off.
She could hardly make out Malfoy in the background explaining the presence of alcohol morphing the physical aspects of the potion over her mind racing towards its own conclusion; that her amortentia — in its proper form — didn't seem to resemble anything close to Ron anymore.
Brushing off the thought, she continued, "that's why she's leaving, isn't it? She's been expelled?" He hummed in agreement. "So the veritaserum was for—"
"—interrogations, yes," he concluded.
"Why would she do something like that?"
The corners of his mouth tucked upwards into a self-satisfied smile.
"I believe the concept you are attempting to recognize is 'jealousy.' It would seem you're quite familiar with it given the way you're acting now."
Her jaw loosened.
"I-I'm not, I don't—" she stammered, glowing bright red nonetheless. "That's ridiculous," she managed.
"Is it?" Malfoy, on the other hand, was riddled with mirth and mischief. "And what do you call all those interactions between us the past few months?
"Banter," she answered plainly.
"That's rubbish and you know it, Granger," he said, advancing on her. "You know good and well what we've been doing."
"We haven't been doing anything differently," she countered, taking a step backwards.
It was then when she realized how very much alone they were.
"Haven't I already told you, dishonesty is not a good look on you," he retorted crudely, relishing in the rare occasion of being able to prove Hermione Granger wrong.
"You're mental," she spat, attempting to walk past him.
"And you have a peculiar fascination with forearms."
Mortified, Hermione felt her cheeks get hotter as she became rooted in place. The familiar sensation of being overwhelmed that she often associated with his presence began to grow.
"You really thought I hadn't noticed?" He drawled, donning a shit-eating grin and she knew it only meant trouble for her. "What's the matter, Granger? Afraid to accept the truth? Afraid to admit you might have a thing for me?"
Arrogant wanker.
"No more than you are, being attracted to a mudblood." Unbeknownst to him, this was more of a test to see if Astoria's final words held any real truth. She knew it was a shot in the dark. Except it proved to hit its target when instead of repulsion, his expression darkened drastically.
"Tsk tsk, Granger. Old McGonagall would be sorely disappointed in her star pupil. Why don't you try something a little more appropriate?"
"With pleasure," Hermione supplied, swiftly raising her hand but just as she was an inch away from making contact with his face, he quickly stopped it without the slightest flinch.
His jaw hardened, eyes lit up in a daunting aggression.
"Back to this again?"
Her other hand flew up and he caught it easily. Like earlier, she struggled in his hold but the heat never dissipated. For some reason, they seemed to find themselves in this position often. Butting heads. Alone in deserted classrooms. Coming to find this was the same one he dragged her into after she confronted him following their duel last semester.
Maybe it was a never-ending curse of this room.
Unwilling to back down, she leaned in closer.
"Let me go," she spat. To which, he let out a sarcastic laugh.
"Unlikely. I'd like to keep my face intact, thanks," he eyed pointedly at the hands in his grip that nearly connected with his face.
"I mean it, Malfoy."
"Or what?" he mocked. "You're going to lecture me to death?"
"I'll transfigure you back into the obnoxious ferret that you are."
He feigned a hum of consideration.
"As impressive as that would be, I know your wandless magic isn't advanced enough for that."
She'd grown used to his teasing as condescending remarks made up the bulk of his speech patterns. What she hadn't anticipated was the lack of opposition to their proximity. And certainly not his eyes glancing down to her parted lips.
"Is that a challenge?" She threatened, grimacing when his grip tightened and his eyes shimmered with delight, permitting a slow smirk.
"Do your worst, Granger."
Before she could retort, he leaned in, catching the last of her breath as it passed through her lips.
She blinked once. Twice.
Then, she gasped.
Instantly, she knew this wasn't that shy muggle boy with whom she fumbled through her first kiss with. This wasn't Viktor Krum concluding an entire evening of sweeping her off her feet. This wasn't Ron Weasley succumbing to years of circumstances and their peers pushing them to be together.
No, this was Draco Malfoy reducing her brain into mush by simply kissing her.
Or was she kissing him?
Then again, it didn't matter.
All that mattered was she could no longer feel, yet could feel everything all at once. All she knew was he kept pressing, moving his sinfully soft lips languidly against her own like he'd been wanting to for ages and she was doing absolutely nothing.
Instead, she was mentally losing her shit. In the midst of disbelief — and unfortunately, slight panic — her mind ran rampant until she suddenly pulled away, their lips parting with a light smack.
"W-wait! What about Astoria?" she blurted, finding her voice despite being in a daze. "Even if she won't be attending Hogwarts anymore, she's still going to be your—" she trailed off, biting her freshly swollen lip.
"Not an issue," Malfoy supplied, drawn to the sight of said lip being bitten. "Arrangement's been called off."
"Oh," was all she could manage. Naturally, there were follow up questions to be asked; when did this happen? Did Astoria's actions result in this outcome? What did this mean for her? For them? If there even was a 'them?'
Instead of asking a single question — and perhaps against her better judgment — she could feel the pull towards him returning. Intensifying. Only a single kiss in and she could feel the flicker of heat. The one that would let her burn in the most delectable flames.
They barely managed to graze their lips before she retracted again, horror in her eyes.
"Oh no, Malfoy—"
"Whatever it is, it can wait," he drawled impatiently, already leaning back in.
"No, I need to properly thank you for your gift! The quill you sent on Christmas," she clarified upon seeing his, notedly adorable, puzzled expression.
Then, he huffed an incredulous laugh.
"Fuck the gift."
Her gut lurched at the impending heat in his eyes. Mustering whatever logic and reason she had left, she tried to protest. Because truth be told, it really was a nice gift.
"But I really feel like I should—"
"Granger, do stop talking before I change my mind."
Thus, leading to the second time Draco Malfoy successfully silenced Hermione Granger. Except this time, she didn't argue. Her eyes slid closed, feeling logic and reason fade away and letting her rigid body fall into him as she tilted her head and parted her lips to let him taste her.
In turn, she was abruptly hit with the vehemence that was uniquely him.
Dark and intense as the tea he drank in the morning. Crisp and sharp as his wit.
It was simply intoxicating.
As she became acquainted with the taste of him, she struggled to get her hands free. Free to roam all over him. Free to cross boundaries she'd been wanting to cross since she had the barest hint of him in this same classroom months ago.
Feeling her fidget, his grip on her wrists loosened.
Finally.
She dove for his hair first, relishing in its silkiness as she kissed him harder. Firmer.
Tugging, pulling, grabbing everywhere she could reach before migrating to his shoulders, his back. His blessed forearms.
She heard — and felt — him release a low groan at her desperation, demonstrating something similar as he grabbed her by the waist and lifted her onto a nearby desk. A knee nudged between her legs to open them just enough for him to step between them, their lips never once losing their connection.
Hermione gasped when his warm hands fell to her bottom, pulling her to him, allowing their lower halves to collide. A heel dug into his hip as she felt him beginning to push her back onto the desk, only separating when a startled gasp of breath reached their ears, followed by the sound of heavy objects dropping to the floor.
Jerking apart, their eyes landed on a familiar redhead who was staring at them like she'd seen a dead relative, her books in a clutter on the floor. Ginny's wide eyes shifted back and forth between the two of them, her brain struggling to come to terms with what she just walked in on.
Hermione sat up, putting her hand up to his chest to push him back slightly. In turn, Draco loosened his grip on her hips but kept her securely in place, unwilling to let go.
"Ginny," Hermione squeaked, trying to formulate a proper sentence. Finding it difficult to think when all she was focused on moments ago was snogging the hell out of the man currently between her legs.
"I was, erm, I got worried when I didn't hear anything so I, er, I'll just be going now," Ginny stammered, too, unable to find the appropriate words.
"Ginny, wait—" she tried to reason but the redheaded witch quickly cut her off.
"It's alright, Hermione. I won't say anything but I need to get to class."
Hermione could see the shock beginning to dissipate and gradually being replaced with suggestiveness as she eyed their current state and respective positions. Eventually, Ginny cleared her throat before turning her attention to the other occupant of the room.
"Malfoy."
"Weasley," he quipped back, his voice now dark and raspy.
With bright, reddened cheeks, she gave a quick nod before ducking out of the room and slamming the door shut behind her.
They were left with lingering silence aside from their pounding heartbeats, competing in spite of their equally matched tempos. As the haze of their moment faded, they were still left with a plethora of unanswered questions. Yet, none of them were addressed as Hermione asked breathily, "what happened with the nicknames?"
"We use them on occasion," he said, not taking eyes away from where Ginny stood. "She said my hair was starting to grow on her."
His hair, once perfectly groomed, was now tousled into a beautiful mess. His lips were now plump and properly reddened. His clothes were rumpled like he'd been through a romp and knowing she was the one who'd done it all to him sent a shockwave of pride down her spine.
"We should leave before she comes back," he provided casually. Then, he stepped away to gather himself. Much to her dismay when she found herself beginning to miss his warmth.
"Why do you think she'll come back?" she asked, her heart skipping a beat when Draco cast her a knowing smirk whilst straightening his tie.
"She left her books on the floor."