I can't help it.

Every time he speaks to her, something inside me clenches. A pressure builds in my chest, tight and suffocating. I want to reach out, cover his eyes, his ears, anything to stop him from seeing her. Hearing her. Liking her.

"Hermione? What are you doing here? Harry's looking... Hermione, no. Not again." Ginny's voice cuts through the fog of my thoughts. Her hand finds my wrist before I can think to move, dragging me back. I resist, but she's always stronger than me in moments like these. She always is.

We leave them behind, Draco and Astoria, and I feel like I've been severed from something vital. The ache doesn't lessen with distance. If anything, it grows sharper, hollowing me out.

Ginny doesn't look at me as she mutters, "We really should fix this. It won't be long until that ferret realizes you fancy him. I swear, ever since you drank that potion, you've been obsessed."

Right. The potion.

It shouldn't have been me. It wasn't meant for me. One accidental sip, and now… now my world revolves around him.

Draco Malfoy.

I see him on the Quidditch pitch, cutting through the air like a blade, and my breath stops. If it weren't for Ginny pulling me back to earth, I would've walked straight onto the field just to be closer to him.

He looked like a storm. Wild, sharp, beautiful. His hair catching the wind, his eyes narrowing in focus. Eyes that feel like they see straight through me.

Back in my room, Ginny locks the door and casts a silencing charm before turning to me with crossed arms and fire in her eyes.

"You need to keep it together, Hermione. It's not like I can save you every time."

And the worst part is, I know she's right.

The me who isn't drugged by artificial longing would be horrified. Grateful to Ginny for pulling me back, angry at myself for even thinking about Astoria Greengrass like some rival in a twisted fairytale.

Why are they engaged? They're still students. Is this what purebloods do? Lock in alliances with barely a kiss shared?

I don't belong in that world. I'm not even half-blood. I'm Muggle-born. I don't have silk-lined futures or family legacies. I have textbooks and merit and mud on my name.

"Do you hear me?" Ginny asks again, softer this time.

"I'm trying," I whisper. "But my head, it's always full of him. I even dream about him."

In my dreams, he touches me gently. He smiles at me like I'm made of light. And when I wake up, I feel… warm. As if he'd truly been there.

Ginny scowls. "Maybe we should go to Madam Pomfrey. We shouldn't wait for Fred and George to fix their mistake."

But my stomach drops at the idea. Madam Pomfrey would end it. She'd take it all away. The dreams, the fluttering in my chest, the way I scan the room in hope of catching a glimpse of him.

I don't want to let go of it. Not yet.

"I don't dislike the feeling," I admit.

"Now," Ginny snaps. "You don't dislike it now. But it's not real, Hermione."

Still, there's a quiet part of me that whispers.

But what if it is? What if part of it is?

I think he hasn't called me 'Mudblood' in months. He doesn't even insult Harry or Ron anymore. I don't know when it stopped, but it did. Slowly. Quietly.

Could that mean something?

Ginny stares at me like I've lost my mind. "At this rate, I wouldn't be surprised if you kissed him in front of everyone."

The thought hits me like lightning. Kissing Draco Malfoy. Out in the open. Claiming him like he's mine.

Would that ruin him? Would it ruin me?

No. That's not what I want. I don't want to trap him. I want him to choose me.

"Maybe I should join the Quidditch team," I blurt suddenly.

Ginny groans. "No! You're not throwing yourself off a broom just to impress Malfoy! What is wrong with you?"

"I just thought-"

"Stop thinking!" she explodes. "You're not thinking straight, Hermione! This isn't you! You're one of the smartest witches I know, and now you're acting like a lovesick first-year!"

"I know!" I shout back, finally snapping. "But I can't help it! I can't stop thinking about him! It's like, like there's something inside me clawing to get closer to him!"

Ginny stares at me for a moment, wide-eyed. Then her expression softens. She sits on the edge of my bed, defeated.

"…I didn't realize how hard this was for you," she says quietly. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked Fred and George to make that stupid potion."

I blink at her. "You asked them?"

She nods, avoiding my eyes. "I thought.. Anyway, it's for someone else. Not you."

And somehow, knowing that makes it worse. This wasn't supposed to be my story. But now I'm drowning in it.

I sit beside her, whispering, "It's okay. I don't… hate the way I feel."

"Because he's handsome?"

I smile faintly. "Maybe. And because… he's different now."

Ginny squints. "He's still Malfoy."

"Is he?" I ask, more to myself than to her. "He hasn't insulted me in forever. I think he's… watching me."

"You're imagining things."

But I'm not. I've seen it. His eyes lingering on me longer than they should. A moment in Potions class when I nearly dropped my vial and he steadied it without a word. The way he looked at me after… like he knew.

A flicker of concern. So brief I almost convinced myself I imagined it.

"Hermione," Ginny says, serious now. "Promise me you won't take the same class as him. Stay away until the potion wears off."

"I can't promise that."

"You have to!"

"I don't even understand what I'm feeling! How can I swear off something when I don't know if it's fake or if it's just... unlocking something that was already there?"

"Hermione, this isn't love. It's obsession. And it's not healthy."

"I know that!" I say, gripping my arms. "But knowing doesn't stop it. You think I want this?"

We stare at each other, both out of breath. Then Ginny stands. "I need a break. I can't watch you destroy yourself."

She leaves, the door slamming behind her.

And I'm left in silence, with my thoughts. With the image of Draco's eyes, stormy and unreadable, as they flicker toward me across the library. Not cruel. Not mocking.

Just watching.

A part of me wants to believe he sees something too. That maybe, just maybe, it isn't all the potion's doing.

Maybe there's a part of him drawn to me too.

And that thought, more than anything, is what terrifies me.