"What are you doing here?" Theo's voice was muffled… distant. The words reached Hermione as if carried by a gust of wind from somewhere far away. She knew he was right beside her but his presence felt a million miles away, like a figure glimpsed through thick fog.
"I came back a day early," the voice replied. It was Malfoy's – sharp as a blade but laced with something foreign. "Thought I'd get here in time to help set up the party tomorrow." His tone was dismissive, growing closer as he approached with concern.
That doesn't sound like something Malfoy would do…
"You need to go," Theo instructed, his voice firm but wavering with the knowledge that he was out of his depth.
"Like fuck I'm leaving," Malfoy snapped. "What happened to her?"
Don't tell him…
Hermione groaned, caught in the shifting tides of consciousness. Darkness threatened to drag her under, her body yearning to surrender to the oblivion of sleep.
"It's okay," Theo murmured, his fingers pressing gently against her shoulder. "You're okay."
"Mate," Malfoy pressed, firmer this time. "What happened to her?" Theo's silence crackled between them. His breathing quickened, eyes darting as he scrambled for an answer that wouldn't come. "I'm going to get Madame Pomfrey."
No…
"No!" Theo barked, a rare crack of desperation in his voice. Hermione would never forgive him if he let that to happen. He paused. "I need you to trust me," his voice was quieter now, a whisper just above the sound of Hermione's shallow breathing.
Please Theo…
Malfoy hesitated for only a moment. "Okay…" he drawled, though the suspicion was clear in his voice.
Theo reached for Hermione's arm, his fingers trembling as they met the sticky warmth of fresh blood. It coated his hands, thick and wet, the metallic scent saturating the air. He peeled back the blood-soaked bandages, each layer revealing more of the wound – deep, angry and pulsing with something more than just pain.
"What the fuck," Malfoy breathed. He glared down at the open wound, still pouring with blood. The word pulsated with the same hate that came from its provider.
"I need you to touch her arm," Theo instructed, ignoring Malfoy's reaction. There was no time to catch him up.
"What?" Malfoy questioned incredulously. "Why?"
"You said you'd trust me," Theo reminded him, his voice strained. "So, trust me. Please… just take her arm." Malfoy glared at him, completely thrown by the request. "Just take it!" Theo snapped.
Malfoy's hand hovered over her arm for just a moment before letting it fall around her forearm, clutching it carefully. Blood spurted between his fingers, soaking his hand in crimson liquid.
But then…
It stopped.
A cool wave rushed through Hermione's arm. The blood's relentless flow ceased. The wound appeared to retract under his touch. Malfoy's brow furrowed in confusion and he suddenly felt nauseous. His eyes travelled from Hermione's arm to Theo's eyes.
"Thank fuck that worked," Theo exhaled, the tension in his shoulders finally releasing.
"You're going to need to catch me up," Malfoy said seriously, still clutching Hermione's forearm. "Get my bag."
"What?"
"My bag," Malfoy repeated, shaking off the shock. "There's blood replenishing potions in there."
"Right," Theo breathed, scrambling to retrieve Malfoy's bag. "Potion healing workshop. Of fucking course you have blood replenishing potions in your bag."
His hands tore through the bag, pushing aside books, vials and parchment until his fingers closed around the cool glass of a potion bottle. He pulled it out, uncapped it and pressed it to Hermione's lips. The deep red liquid slid into her mouth and for a moment, nothing happened.
Then, she stirred. A soft gurgling sound escaped her throat as the potion took effect, her eyelids fluttering between wakefulness and the dark abyss still calling her back.
She could still feel Malfoy clutching her arm and the cool sensation continued to radiate through her skin, replacing the horrible burning that usually resided there.
"Pass me a bandage," he instructed. Theo complied, reaching for another length of gauze. "Scourgify," Malfoy murmured, casting the charm with his wand in his free hand. The pool of blood that had spread underneath Hermione's body and Malfoy's knees shrivelled. The blood on Malfoy's hand dissipated and Hermione's forearm had healed enough to make him feel comfortable to remove his hand.
Malfoy took the bandage from Theo and gently began wrapping it around the wound. While the bleeding had finally ceased, it still looked horribly angry with black tendrils twisting around her forearm like shackles. "Let's get her to bed," Malfoy insisted once the bandage was secured.
Theo barely had time to process before Malfoy lent down, slipping his arms beneath Hermione with surprising gentleness. One arm under her back, the other beneath her knees, he lifted her effortlessly. Her body curled into him instinctively, her head pressing into his chest. His touch was unbearably and unexplainably soothing. Malfoy placed her carefully in bed and Hermione released a small sound of displeasure at the loss of contact.
"We'll need to give her another dose," Malfoy told Theo. "Every hour until she wakes up properly."
"Okay," Theo nodded, the weight of the night finally settling over him. His voice hoarse, raw with a mix fear and relief.
Malfoy straightened, levelling Theo with a firm stare. "Now," he said firmly. "Explain."
Hermione woke to the feeling of more thick liquid slipping down her throat. Her lips instinctively pressed against the cool rim of a small glass bottle, the lingering remnants of the potion coating her mouth. A groan escaped lips as she fought against the weight of her own eyelids, struggling to break free from the haze of unconsciousness.
"Hermione?" Theo's voice sliced through the silent room like a blade, sharp with concern.
Again, she willed her eyes to open, feeling as though she were emerging from an endless sleep. Her limbs felt heavy, her body sluggish. But it was the dull, persistent burn in her arm that truly anchored her back to reality. At least the bleeding had stopped – she hadn't bled through to the sheets this time.
Blinking against the dim light, she finally managed to make out a blurred figure beside her. Theo sat slouched in a plush armchair, one that had clearly been dragged from the common room. His posture was weary but watchful.
"W-what… What time is it?" she rasped, her voice dry.
"Seven," Theo answered. "At night."
"Oh," Relief washed over her. "So, I wasn't out for long?"
Theo hesitated and cleared his throat before adding, "On the seventeenth."
"What?" she returned. Her vision had finally adjusted so her view of Theo's sheepish face was clear. "I was out for twenty-four hours?"
"Yeah…" Theo nodded.
"Damnit, Theo," Hermione voice was hoarse but the frustration was clear. "I'm supposed to be down in the Great Hall setting up for the party! It's tomorrow night, for Merlin's sake." She tried to throw her blankets off and sit up but her body betrayed her and Theo was easily able to guide her back to her pillow.
"You're not going anywhere right now," he said firmly, his voice edged with quiet authority. "You're not well."
"I'm fine," Hermione groaned into the crook of her arm. Though the burning of her forehead proved otherwise. "People are going to be wondering where I am."
"Weasley already came by," Theo explained. "I told her you weren't feeling well and that you'd be staying in bed all day to make sure you're well enough to actually attend the party tomorrow night."
Hermione sighed heavily. "I'm sure she took that well."
Theo chuckled knowingly. "She wasn't thrilled. But don't worry about the party," he insisted. "Draco's down there now. The last I heard they we're almost finished with the setup."
Hermione let out a slow breath, her gaze drifting to her forearm. Thick layers of gauze and a tight bandage concealed the wound beneath but she could still feel the faint, lingering sting. Her fingers ghosted over the neatly wrapped dressing. "He knows," she reflected quietly.
"I'm sorry," Theo sighed. "I didn't know what else to do."
"I know," Hermione replied softly, meeting his eyes. "You did the right thing."
"I'm just lucky that reaction happened again," he said, relieved.
Now fully conscious, Hermione was impressed by Theo's quick thinking. "It still doesn't make any sense."
"I know," he sympathised.
She studied him for a moment before asking, "What did you tell him?"
"Not much," Theo admitted. "I said we were analysing your blood for traces of a curse but I didn't go into detail about the results. As for the reaction–" he hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "I told him you'd had a strange response to his touch before. He pushed for more answers but I told him the truth… that we don't know."
"Okay," Hermione breathed. "That's not so bad."
"He's going to want more," Theo warned.
"I know." Hermione nodded, her fingers curling into the blanket. "But I leave for the Burrow the morning after the Christmas party. Hopefully I won't have to think about it until after Christmas holiday."
Theo hummed sceptically but didn't argue. Instead, he shifted in his chair. "You need to get some more sleep."
"I think I've done enough of that," she muttered, once again trying and failing to sit up.
"If you want to go to the party tomorrow night," he said, his tone allowing no argument. "Then you're staying in this bed until the last possible minute."
Hermione huffed in frustration and yanked the blankets over her face. Theo settled back into his armchair, ready to watch over her for the second night in a row.
"You look beautiful," Theo complimented, his voice edged with something almost wistful as he lounged against the doorframe of Hermione's room. She stood in front of the mirror, smoothing the front of her dress of wrinkles that weren't there. "Shame you and Draco have this whole Prefect 'lead by example' thing," he continued, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "I would've thought to take you myself."
Hermione chuckled. "You're funny."
"I know," he quipped, pushing of the doorframe and stepping aside to give her room to pass. "Ready?"
"As I'll ever be," she sighed, pacing hesitantly to the door.
The common space flickered with the glow of the fireplace but the warmth did little to ease the sudden tightness in her chest. Malfoy stood waiting, shifting his weight anxiously from foot to foot. For the first time, Hermione realised – he was nervous. It struck her that, despite classes, he hardly left the dormitory. This night would be a lot to handle.
As she approached, Malfoy's gaze travelled the length of her figure, slow and deliberate. Heat crept up her neck. Self-conscious, she instinctively folder her arms across her middle, resisting the urge to fidget. She had briefly considered forgoing the emerald green dress she'd purchased in London. But the thought of facing Ginny in anything but the velvet gown made her genuinely afraid.
Malfoy cleared his throat, the sound sharp against the quiet. "Shall we?" His dress robes were striking – entirely black with just a pop of green in his velvet tie. Hermione figured Theo must have had something to do with that choice.
A wave of nausea rolled over her, though she told herself it was just lingering exhaustion from two nights ago. Steeling herself, she nodded, stepping towards the door. Theo held it open, flashing a comforting grin as she and Malfoy stepped past him and into the hallway.
The Great Hall had been transformed into a breathtaking winter wonderland. Towering fir trees dusted with enchanted snow stood proudly in every corner their branches heavy with shimmering baubles that reflected the golden candlelight floating overhead. Wreaths of holly and ivy wound their way along every surface and the air carried the faint scent of cinnamon and pine. Hermione was genuinely impressed with how well Malfoy and the other Prefects had managed to bring her ideas to life.
As Hermione and Malfoy entered, the low hum of conversation halted. A ripple of whispers spread through the crowd, like wind disturbing the surface of a still lake.
All eyes were on them. The Golden Girl and the Death Eater.
Hermione caught sight of Neville and Luna who gave her a comforting smile. She quietly excused herself and headed in their direction. Just because she had agreed to be Malfoy's date, didn't mean she had to spend the entire evening in his presence. Upon witnessing their separation, the judgmental glares dissipated and the buzz of conversation returned.
Hermione greeted the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw couple, complementing Luna's beautifully hand beaded silver gown and Neville's handsome robes. Moments later, Ginny arrived fashionably late, to the whistles of a few seventh year boys. After telling them to shut it, she joined the group of friends and spoke excitedly of the luxurious mince pies that lines the dessert table.
The night was long.
And Hermione barely saw Malfoy.
It was nearing midnight when she decided that she'd made enough of an appearance to finally retreat for the night. She excused herself from the dancefloor, bid her friends good night and headed for the exit.
As she made her way outside, the loud music dropped to a dull thud. She exhaled heavily as her ears adjusted to the silence. But the quiet was short lived as her attention was soon drawn by the presence of a small group of students – Hermione didn't know their names but she recognised them as a pack of Slytherin sixth years.
"You can't be serious!" A shrill cry pierced the quiet. A petite blonde girl, her face flushed with anger, glared at the raven-haired boy in front of her.
"What was I supposed to do?" the boy retorted. "Go alone?"
"Yes!" the girl responded. "That's what we agreed on." Her friends hummed in agreement while the boy's companions rolled their eyes, their boredom palpable.
"Well, it's not my fault I wasn't allowed to take you," he snapped.
Realising that she was staring, Hermione lowered her gaze and turned to leave but she was interrupted by the sound of the door to the Great Hall opening. Out stepped Malfoy, looking exhausted and thoroughly unimpressed.
Hermione was about to open her mouth to speak but the Slytherin girls shrill voice came first. "That's right," she responded. "It's theirs!"
Hermione swallowed a lump in her throat as she realised that this gossip circle, she had been eavesdropping on, had now turned their attention on her and Malfoy.
"If you two stupid little Prefects actually gave a damn about the rest of us, you wouldn't have dared make that stupid rule," she said accusatorily, striding over to the pair. "Then my stupid boyfriend wouldn't have taken some stupid Ravenclaw slut and snogged her in the stupid courtyard."
"The whole point of this party was house unification," Hermione found herself countering.
"Oh yeah?" The boy's tone dripped with sarcasm. "I'm sure we're all feeling real unified." His friend chuckled in agreement.
"Well, if you aren't having a good time, you're more than welcome to leave," Hermione informed them, maintaining a steady tone despite the return of a stinging pain shooting through her arm.
The girl scoffed. "What, like you are?" Her smirk oozed superiority. "Great job 'leading by example' tonight. I don't think I saw the two of you exchange a single word."
"Fuck off, Anastasia," Malfoy snapped, the exhaustion in his voice unmistakable. "This party is not the reason your arsehole of a boyfriend cheated on you."
The girls face burned red. Without warning, she stepped forward and delivered a sharp slap across Malfoy's cheek. The crack of skin against skin echoed through the hallway.
Hermione inhaled sharply, watching as Malfoy stilled, his hand slowly rising to his face. His jaw clenched, tongue pressed against the roof of his mouth. But he said nothing. "I'm getting Headmistress McGonagall," Hermione announced, turning on her heel.
"Oh yes, go and cry to the Headmistress," Anastasia mocked, her voice sickly sweet. "Protect your little Death Eater boyfriend."
Hermione stopped in her tracks and whipped back to face the girl. Her arm was burning so intensely now that she thought it might singe through the bandage and fray away at the fabric of her sleeve. "He is not my boyfriend."
"No," Anastasia countered. "That'd be Nott, right? You two spend so much time together in the library, there's no way you aren't fucking after dark."
Something inside Hermione snapped.
Maybe it was the venom in the words aimed at someone she had come to consider a friend. Maybe it was the fact that she had just witnessed this girl slap Malfoy. Or maybe it was the searing pain in her arm, an agonising pulse beneath her sleeve, screaming at her.
But she slapped her.
Just like Anastasia had slapped Malfoy moments earlier, Hermione's hand collided with the Slytherin girls cheek before she'd even had the chance to think about it.
And before the girl, or any of her friends had the chance to react, she promptly retreated down the hallway. First, at the pace of a brisk walk and then, once she knew she was out of their sight, it turned into a run. The length of her velvet gown clutched in her hand; she ran until she was far enough away that no one could hear her.
Then, she lost it.
A heaving cry escaped her lips as she doubled over in pain. Her chest felt tight and she shook her head rapidly, trying to stave off the panic attack that threatened. She caught sight of her sleeve where a dark patch had begun to stain the fabric. She pulled the sleeve up angrily, revealing the soiled bandage.
"Fuck!" she hissed, cursing the stupid wound and this stupid night. Still thinking irrationally in hopes of keeping her panic from rising, she began unravelling the bandage. Layer after layer of blood-soaked fabric fell to the ground before the wound was finally exposed. The cold air did little to sooth it but a sharp nail pressed directly into the surrounding skin gave her momentary relief.
"Granger?" a voice travelled down the empty hallway.
Hermione sighed heavily, exhausted. "Not now Malfoy," she said frustratedly, her voice shaking.
But her request went ignored. His footsteps grew louder as he approached her, taking in the scene before him.
"Are you okay?" Malfoy questioned. And for a moment, Hermione thought it sounded genuine.
"I'm fine," she lied through gritted teeth. "Please, just leave me alone."
"No, you're not," Malfoy observed, glancing over the discarded bloodied bandages.
The pain in her arm flared, a fresh wave of searing heat. Her head spun. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the dizziness away.
"Let me help," Malfoy said, reaching for her arm. His fingers grazed her skin and she instinctively pulled her arm away, cradling it protectively in front of her. But of course – because it was him – the brief touch was soothing. The cool sensation radiated through her skin right where his fingertips had touched her.
A long silence fell over the pair. Hermione stared at him, breathing heavily and still clutching her arm.
"Kiss me," she whispered, suddenly compelled.
Malfoy stiffened. "What?"
"Please," she begged, not entirely knowing why but listening to the pain that ruled her. "Just kiss me."
And Hermione didn't know what she expected but Malfoy didn't say another word. Instead, he stepped forward until he was close enough that she could feel his shaky breath against her skin. He lent down hesitantly and once their lips were almost close enough to touch, Hermione closed the gap.
The kiss was soft at first. Cautious. For several seconds, their lips were locked until Hermione opened her mouth just enough to give him permission to kiss her more deeply. He complied, allowing his tongue to graze hers expertly. She melted into him.
Hermione hadn't kissed many boys. Viktor had kissed her before he had departed Hogwarts but it was a quick peck and not particularly memorable. Despite rumours, she never received more than an artificial peck on the cheek from Cormac. And kissing Ron, while pleasant at first, had quickly evolved into feeling like she was kissing her brother.
But this kiss.
This was otherworldly. Filled with such passion despite his gentle movements.
Her arm responded immediately. The cooling sensation that had previously been localised to the area Malfoy touched, now radiated throughout her entire body, sending pleasant shivers down her spine.
Eventually, Malfoy broke the kiss but his face stayed close to hers and they breathed heavily, recovering from the extended period of lost air. Hermione's eyes met his and she stared for a moment before pulling away.
Her attention fell to her arm.
The bleeding ceased.
And the wound had sealed.
She released a shaky breath and she stepped back in awe. After a moment, her frantic eyes returned to meet Malfoy's face. And having no idea what to do, she turned abruptly and fled down the hallway.