Lust, War and... Love?

jessysgirl : Thank you for reading and reviewing! Hope your pregnancy is going all right. The teaching job is certain to keep you busy! :) Yes, Hermione has this fixation on Ron at this stage, and it gets in the way of her relationship with Malfoy. I imagine that, in addition to being an old friend, Ron is a sort of a “socially” acceptable boyfriend choice for her. She doesn’t think in these terms, of course, but she senses it intuitively. Hermione likes Harry too, but, unlike Ron, he is not ready for a romantic relationship with a girl yet. On the other side, Draco has his own issues to deal with, as this and the next chapters will show.


angeles : Thanks for reading and reviewing! I hope you like this chapter too. I’ve got several more chapters drafted, so it should not be long before I post the next one.

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Hermione pulled a book off a shelf and leafed through it. Nothing new on the Levitating Charms. With slight disappointment, she squeezed the book back onto the shelf and studied the spines next to it. Maybe this one, Hermione thought and took out another reference on Advanced Charms.

“Rumours are that Slughorn’s throwing a Christmas party, “ Hermione suddenly heard the soft drawl she knew so well, and the familiar arm wrapped around her waist. “Who are you going with, Granger?”

“Of course, not with you. Please remove your hand before anyone sees us.” Hermione turned her head and held the stare of his grey eyes. “Basically, it’s none of your business, Malfoy!”

“Can I know who is my girl going with to the Slug party? Potter?” He leaned closer to her.

“Since when am I your girl? You’ve got your fiancee.” Hermione freed herself from his embrace. He let her off easily. “Not Harry - he’s invited on his own.”

“Your beloved Weasel, as usual?” Draco’s upper lip curled up in a sneer.

“Yes, it’s Ron, and he’s Weasley, not Weasel!” Hermione hissed back and shoved the book onto the shelf. “I don’t want to get caught with you here in the library. Didn’t we agree to have our date tomorrow?” Hermione turned on her heels and headed down the aisle and away from Malfoy. She heard him swear under his breath. What did he expect from her, after all? A passionate kiss right here in the library?

Draco stood and flipped through several books but could not stop fuming. Was there any way to win Granger in earnest after all? He must do something about Weasel. He’d wait for the right opportunity to present itself. What a wretched thing his life was… The Cabinet stubbornly refused to mend. Auntie Bella kept bombarding him through the enchanted Galleons with demands to meet her outside of the castle. Thanks Merlin, the windows in the Astronomy Tower had been sealed dead. The Dark Mark torment did not recur since that night, but Dumbledore was still alive and it meant that the torture could return upon Draco any minute.

Hermione marched back to the table where Harry and Ron were doing their homework. Why did Malfoy have to turn up the moment she was able to get rid of any thought of him? His mere touch instantly made a small puddle of desire pool in the bottom of her belly. She already regretted asking him for a meeting after the Katie Bell tragedy. What was she hoping for? That he’d repent and tell her everything? Even if Malfoy saved her from the cursed necklace, it didn’t mean that he owned her, as he apparently believed. Then Hermione remembered his pained expression, and a traitorous pang of pity tugged at her heart.She’d better not dwell on the memory of that night…

“Did you find anything, Hermione?” Ron’s warm blue eyes met hers, and she wanted to sink into them. She had to be careful to maintain the proper distance to avoid an assault of the potion-induced fantasies. Ron was so much nicer to her after Hermione admitted that she wanted to invite him to the party.

“Nothing there. But I think this book on Essential Charms could do for our essays just fine.” She smiled at Ron, and he grinned back. How great it was to be here with him and Harry, she thought. Still, Malfoy was like a smallish, enticingly dark cloud that hovered in the far corner of her conscience. Stubbornly, it threatened to envelop her whole self unless she made a good effort to keep it at bay. Hermione looked at the boys in front of her. Compared to constantly brooding Harry, Ron was the sunshine in her life. She wanted to kiss every freckle on his face.

“Take it easy, Hermione, don’t get all worked up over it,” Ron said good-naturedly and stretched in his chair. “Who’s the Chaser instead of Katie, Harry?”

“I’m not sure.” Harry lifted his head from his parchments. “Maybe Finnigan or Dean?”

“Still one Chaser short for the practice today? When will you decide on someone, after all?” Ron gathered his parchments together. “Come watch us at the pitch before dinner, Hermione.”

“Thanks, I’d love to see you play. “ Ron’s invitation made Hermione’s heart flutter, but she had her plans to fulfil. “I’ll come over to the pitch a bit later.”

“Okay,” nodded Ron, and got to his feet, his lanky figure towering over the table. Harry had already shoved his books and parchments in his bag.

Hermione watched the boys walk towards the exit. Harry filled out in the shoulders, and Ron grew even taller. Hermione couldn’t help but notice how manly they were becoming. Suddenly she wondered how each of them would look in bed, and the thought made her blush slightly. She reprimanded herself for thinking like this about her old friends.

Draco Malfoy tried to concentrate on his homework but had trouble organizing his thoughts. Next to him, Pansy skulked over her parchments, and across the table from him Goyle was reading a comic, which he placed on top of his opened Charms textbook. Millicent Bulstrode kept peeking into the comic over his massive forearm while struggling with her Herbology homework.

Draco raised his head and noticed Potter and Weasley walking across the room, their badges gleaming on their robes. The Qudditch Captain and Prefect, the two Gryffindor poster boys, half of the Hogwarts girls swooning over them, Granger included… The fabled heroes of the fight in the Department of Mysteries. The mere sight of them both made Draco seethe with venom. Pansy was talking about something to him now, but he ignored her solicitous drone. His eyes darted to the side and he saw Hermione get up from her seat and join the Patil sisters at another table. He must make her ditch Potty and Weasel. Draco glanced at Pansy: she had already ceased her chatter and was staring into her book glumly. He felt a dull pain coming on in his left temple. Now the headache was going to torment him for the rest of the day.

“All right, Goyle, we’ve got to go.” Draco collected his belongings, gave a nod to the girls and headed to the exit. Goyle surrendered his comic book to Bulstrode and lumbered after him.

Padma and Parvati listened eagerly when Hermione told them in a hushed voice about her very odd encounter with Zabini in the Three Broomsticks. She had been mulling for a while over his strange behaviour in the pub, and now she wanted to investigate it further.

“Do you think Zabini could be Imperiused?” wondered Padma. “He looked perfectly normal when he joined us in the library, remember?”

“Or Confunded?” added Parvati. “I doubt he’s with those Death Eaters, you know.”

“We can’t say anything for sure now,” said Hermione. “Could you try to probe Zabini about his trip to Hogsmeade?”

“Like have a date with him and fish the information out of him?” chuckled Parvati.

“It would be so great.” Hermione looked at Parvati hopefully. “I‘m sorry you’d have to put up with the annoying Slytherin…”

“Oh no, Zabini is so entertaining!” Parvati beamed at Hermione, which made her wonder if it was a good idea to stoke Parvati’s apparently beginning crush on the haughty Slytherin boy.

“Yes! You could have a date with him on Sunday night, when I’m on a patrol!” Padma whispered excitedly. “In an abandoned classroom on the third floor. Nott and I would have you covered, Parvati!”

“Or Saturday night during my patrol - let’s take our enchanted Galleons,” suggested Hermione. “Just in case. If you get in trouble, I could come over.”

“What do you need to know?” asked Padma softly and glanced around.

“Whatever he remembers about his visit to the Three Broomsticks,” Hermione lowered her voice to a barely audible whisper. “If he was Imperiused like Katie Bell or Confunded, he wouldn’t be able to recall the conversation with me. No one must know about our plan, okay?”

“Sure, we’ll keep it secret!” Parvati was visibly thrilled about the task.

Hermione hurriedly left the library to make it to the Qudditch pitch while Harry and Ron were still there. As she was about to turn corner a few feet from the library entrance, she realised that someone was following her. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Parkinson with Bulstrode gaining on her. Pansy’s looks did not promise anything good. Hermione drew her wand out and whipped around. Protego! She reflected Pansy’s Stunning Spell just in time. Hermione noticed the Patil twins scampering down the corridor with alarmed looks.

“I saw it! You and Malfoy necked in the library!” Parkinson screeched and jerked up her wand to fire another spell at her. Which curse it was going to be, Hermione never found out, because the same second Padma screamed, “Expelliarmus!”

Everyone’s wand flew up in the air. Furious, Pansy lunged at Hermione, who, in return, went for her neck. Bulstrode grabbed Hermione from behind, and the three of them tumbled to the floor. Hermione kicked at Millicent’s legs madly while trying to keep Pansy’s fingernails off her face. Parvati struggled to pry Bulstrode off Hermione’s back while Padma rushed to collect the wands scattered on the floor.

“Stop the fighting!” McGonagall’s voice thundered in the hallway. Her speedy spell threw the girls apart, panting and dishevelled. Hermione clambered to her feet and realised that her sleeve was torn in two. Pansy, sitting on the floor, attempted to straighten her robes, with several buttons missing. Madam Pince hovered behind McGonagall. A small crowd of younger students stood at a distance, gawking at the scene. Under McGonagall’s stern gaze the five girls filed down the hallway and to her office.

When they lined up in front of McGonagall’s desk, Hermione heard the door opening. She turned her head and saw Snape entering the office. While Padma narrated the whole story, he came to the side of McGonagall’s chair and trained his heavy gaze on Hermione. She held his stare defiantly.

“Am I correct, you’ve got into a fight over a boy?” McGonagall asked sharply.

Parkinson’s eyes threw daggers at Hermione, who stuck her chin up. Bulstrode stared into the space dully. The Patil sisters sidled closer to each other.

“Yes, Professor McGonagall,” Hermione said loudly. She looked at Snape again. Could he hush Parkinson up? One more glance at Pansy’s reddened face, and Hermione charged on, “Professor Snape, Parkinson thinks I necked with Malfoy, her fiancé, and I never did it with him! I loathe Malfoy!”

The teachers’ eyes shot in Hermione’s direction.

“Could you please talk to these students from your House, Professor Snape?” McGonagall turned to him. “Miss Parkinson seems to be very upset about Mr. Malfoy.”

“Certainly, Professor McGonagall.” Snape nodded curtly and led the Slytherin girls out of the office.

As her adrenaline surge dissipated, Hermione’s hands suddenly began to shake, and she hid them in her pockets.

“Padma and Parvati, you may go,” McGonagall released the twins, who gladly scurried off to the door. “Hermione, have a seat, please.”

Hermione sat down, still trembling.

“Are you OK, Hermione?” McGonagall’s voice softened considerably.

“Yes - yes,“ she stuttered.

“I hope Miss Parkinson didn’t trouble you too much.” McGonagall gave Hermione a long look. “And Mr. Malfoy?”

Hermione’s heart sank to the bottom of her stomach. “No, they didn’t bother me much. It - it’s just that Parkinson went crazy and attacked me today.”

“Do you have a hard time keeping up with your studies?”

“No, not really. I was a bit sick a while ago.” Hermione remembered the hapless week when she tried to resist the potion effects. An urge to cry came over her and she bit her lower lip.

“You look quite stressed lately, Miss Granger.” McGonagall’s eyes were still fixed on her face.

“Yes… I feel a little tired,” muttered Hermione. She felt tears welling up in her eyes. For Merlin’s sake, the last thing she needed was to fall apart in McGonagall’s office. Everyone had been such a pain to deal with - Malfoy, Harry, Ron, her dorm mates, and now the assault from the Slytherin girls... She’d gladly give them the wretched Malfoy back, if she could!

McGonagall walked around the desk with a look of a grave concern, and came up to Hermione. She barely managed to stifle her sob when the teacher put her hand on Hermione‘s arm.

“Are you really all right? Do you sleep well at night?” McGonagall stroked her forearm. “I’ll ask Madam Pomfrey to give you the Calming Draught.”

“I -I’m all right,” mumbled Hermione. McGonagall did not look very convinced, but all Hermione wanted was to get out of the teacher’s office. She definitely could use something to soothe her nerves…

With a bottle of the Calming Draught in her hand, Hermione left the hospital wing. In her emotional state, she did not feel like dragging herself all the way to the Quidditch pitch. What Hermione craved now was a dose of the Draught and a little rest before facing everyone at the dinner.

In the Room of Requirement Hermione deposited her bag by one of the chairs, and took her clothes off, leaving only her underwear and tights on. With a quick flick of her wand she mended the torn sleeve of her robes, then contemplated the bottle that Madam Pomfrey gave her. One tablespoon to calm her nerves, and three to four tablespoons to fall asleep. Hermione took two spoonfuls of the concoction. She curled up under the covers and, after a few sobs, she drifted into a relaxing slumber.

******

Draco positioned Crabbe, disguised as a first-year girl, in the seventh floor corridor. “I need to enter the room where the Cabinet is,” he kept thinking as he paced back and forth in the corridor. Although his headache had abated a good deal after he took the potion Mum had caringly supplied him with, the trace of it still lingered inside his skull. The Room did not open to him. Puzzled, Draco decided to try it again after dinner.

The Room of Requirement did not admit him after the dinner either. Draco stared at the bare expanse of the wall, not sure what to make of it. Then a thought crossed his mind. Granger was not present in the Great Hall - could it be the reason? He dismissed Crabbe and strolled past the wall again, this time asking for a different place. The door appeared, and Draco darted into it.

He lit up the candles in the Room and saw Granger’s clothes, neatly folded on one of the armchairs. He put his bag next to hers. The bed curtains were drawn together. He parted them cautiously and saw Granger’s sleeping form, her brown hair spread out on the pillows.

Hermione opened her eyes, and blinked from the light. She batted her eyelids again. It was not a dream. The real Malfoy was standing in the gap between the draperies.

“No…“ Although she had a modest white chemise on, she pulled the duvet up to her chin. He parted the drapes wide, and she could see the circles under his eyes. “Please, not now, Draco.”

Draco sat down on the bed and took his shoes off. The painkiller potion apparently started wearing off and the dull ache in his temple had gone up a notch. He looked at Granger again. Her eyes were puffy. Had she been crying?

“My head hurts,” Draco mumbled, as he stuffed a pillow behind his back. He stretched his long legs on the top of the duvet and crossed his arms on his chest. “I heard you‘d had a ruffle today. Pansy stayed a mile away from me in the Great Hall.”

“Your wreck of a fiancee attacked me outside the library,” huffed Hermione. She propped herself up on the pillows and told him about the fight and the visit to McGonagall’s office.

“Snape set Pansy’s wits straight, I’m sure.” Draco grinned.

“Oh, I missed the dinner also…” Hermione sighed. “What time is it?”

“About seven, I think. Hungry, Granger?”

“No, not really. But I’d better get going.” She drew away from him.

“Let’s stay here, Hermione. I’ve got a butterbeer in my bag. Want it?”

“No, let’s do it tomorrow. I’m not in the mood, really. Please, Draco. Please…”

Draco Accio’d the bottle of butterbeer from his bag and opened it. He didn’t feel like cavorting in bed. He still had a headache, albeit not as bad as earlier in the day.

“I‘m not up to it, either,” he admitted and proffered the drink to her. “Hell, I’m tired, Granger.”

Hermione settled back against the pillows and took a sip from the bottle. “Did you sleep okay? You look rather wan.”

“Didn’t get much sleep last night,” Draco complained. He already knew Granger wasn’t the type to hex an ailing soul.

“Madam Pomfrey gave me the Calming Draught,” Hermione said eagerly. She realised what a great opportunity had just presented itself to her. “Maybe you could have some and take a little nap here?”

“Whatever works,“ Draco muttered. “Will you stay here?”

“Yes, I’ll sit here for awhile, but I’d like to go back to my dorm before the curfew.” Hermione summoned the medicine and one of her quills. She transformed the quill into a spoon. “Four tablespoons for a restful sleep.”

Draco swallowed the potion and sent his clothes to one of the chairs. He snuggled under the covers against Hermione, who settled in with a book, and closed his eyes.

She read several chapters of her book with Malfoy slumbering beside her. Slowly, Hermione removed his arm from her thigh, and he did not stir. She slid out of the bed and tiptoed around it to the armchairs. A wave of her wand, and the curtains closed soundlessly. Another flick of the wand and one of the chairs scooted into a position that shielded her from the bed.

She settled on the floor behind the bulky armchair. Hermione listened to the faint sound of Draco’s snoring for a few minutes, then opened his bag. Could it have any clues to the opal necklace incident? Cautiously, she pulled out and inspected the textbooks. Nothing turned up in them, and she stacked the books on the floor. Hermione dipped in the bag again. The same magazine with the nearly undressed witch on the cover, that she found last time, but now with the pages falling out of it. No hint of anything related to the cursed necklace yet. Hermione scrutinized the confectionery wraps and discarded them on the top of the stack of Draco’s books.

Assorted parchments with class notes, doodles and homework. Two letters from his mother. Hermione hesitated a little, then unfolded them and read. Narcissa’s writings did not reveal much. Still, her admonishments to her son to stay safe and exercise the utmost care confirmed that he was up to something. She folded the letters and put them aside. Snooping made her a little uncomfortable, but she had to follow through with her investigation. Hermione looked through the rest of Draco’s parchments. She came across the same old pages with the mending spells, but now they bore numerous corrections and comments on the margins. Hermione produced a few blank parchments from her bag and copied his notes onto them.

She placed the pile of parchments next to the books and dove into Draco’s bag. She inspected every quill, whole or broken, but found nothing suspicious. Suddenly, Draco stopped snoring, and Hermione paused apprehensively. The snoring resumed, and she returned to her search. She rummaged in the bag more, discovered several crumpled pieces of parchment and flattened them out. Almost all of them were mere doodles, except one. Hermione studied the sudden treasure:

Borgin & Burkes, est. 1889

Receipt of Sale

Date: October 8, 1996
Goods Sold: Antiques Price: 1,500.00 Galleons Paid by: Mr. Draco Malfoy

Delivered to Purchaser’s Representative on October 8, 1996.

An icy hand clutched Hermione’s heart. It was the evidence she dreaded most - that Draco was one of the main perpetrators of the crime. She drew a deep breath and re-read the receipt once more, then copied it too. Who could be the target, after all?

Hermione dipped into Draco’s bag again, fished out the last remaining scraps of parchment but found nothing of interest in them. She carefully placed everything back in the bag, put her robes on and tiptoed to the bed to check on Malfoy before leaving the Room. She peeked behind the curtain. Draco was sleeping peacefully, his features smooth and relaxed. It was like standing on the edge of a dark abyss, and Hermione felt irresistibly drawn into its depths. He knew the most intimate part of her, and that side of hers wanted to hold on to him, while her mind reeled in shock at what she had discovered.