One Fine Line

Disclaimer: I don't own any of it! please don't sue me :)

I return after a long hiatus. I started this store the summer after I graduated from college whilst I was still in the process of finding a job. I did find a job, so as one could imagine, my writing time dwindled. I've finally managed to find my way back, as I've taken on a personal mission to actually finish something I've started.

I apologize to those who had been following. I honestly didn't intend to desert you for two years. But, c'est la vie.

Obviously, since the 7th book has been released, this story is now AU.

This chapter is sort of a cliff hanger, and for that I apologize. I hate cliff hangers, but I like sleep, and I need some of it before I brave the office tomorrow.

Enjoy!

*~*~*~*~*

Chapter 9


“Ms. Granger, you have just simply left me without words. I can not even fathom what would reduce you to such dangerous and irresponsible behaviour!”

Hermione wished she left Headmistress McGonagall without words; she wouldn’t have had to sit through the past hour of belittling ranting if she had.

She opened her mouth to respond, but quickly snapped it shut when she saw the headmistress’ face contort in an irritated grimace.

“You should feel fortunate that I am not demoting you, but don’t think that you will go unpunished.” McGonagall turned deliberately, her robes swelling behind her in a sapphire wave as she sat behind her desk.

“Of course not…” Hermione slid lower in her chair.

“In addition to writing a letter of apology to Ms. Brown, I have arranged for a month long detention sentence with Filch. You shall scrub the potion room nightly and without the use of magic. After that, you will take Mr. Malfoy’s post-curfew patrol.”

Hermione let out an audible sigh. It wasn’t so bad. She grew up in a muggle house, so scrubbing was like second nature. And the patrols, well, she could always catch up on her reading as she meandered the halls. That didn’t stop her from making her displeasure known with a disgruntled sigh.

“Ms. Granger,” The headmistress’ face fell in a disapproving glare. “You committed a serious offense. I think that the given punishment is quite lenient.” McGonagall fell into silence as she considered. “Albus would be so disappointed.”

Hermione felt a sickening wave of guilt sweep over her. “Will that be all?” McGonagall had brought her to such shame that she couldn’t even muster a bit of sarcasm.

“Yes. Your detention will begin tonight.”

*~*~*~*~*


“Detention? For a month! Talk about harsh…” Ron managed the statement through his mouthful of mashed potatoes.

“Not really.” Hermione poked at the food on her plate. Despite her protesting stomach, she felt no desire to eat. “I attacked a student. I could have been expelled. A month’s detention is practically a slap on the wrist compared to what I could have been faced with.”

“’Moine, I feel horrible. You were absolutely right; I should have come to you with my concerns first. Perhaps if I had, you wouldn’t have flown off the handle. I just didn’t want you to think I was accusing you of anything.”

“Regardless, I’d still like to give that smarmy git a knock in the chin.” Ron glowered over his plate, his hand clenching into a fist.

Hermione pushed away her plate. “I know, and I’ve no right to blame you for my actions. I let my anger get the best of me.” She dragged her hand through her tousled curls, “I’ve just been so stressed lately. I never thought that being head girl would come with so much pressure.”

Truthfully, that was only a small part of it. She’d made a pact with the devil by inviting Malfoy into her bed. Well, technically nothing had happened yet, but Hermione doubted that he’d ignore the open invitation for long. He was who he was, after all.

“Well, having to deal with Malfoy can’t be helping. I can’t believe I thought for a second that you’d be having some sort of secret affair with him.” Harry scoffed at himself as he took a bite of his roll.

Hermione diverted her gaze, taking up a sudden and unwavering interest in her pumpkin juice. Her eyes would betray her; they always did. Rubbing at the tension in her neck, she simply murmured, “I know. Preposterous.”

It wasn’t a lie when she said she could live with a purely physical relationship. She could. There was no doubt in her mind that her feelings would never go beyond that of the flesh. Yet, Malfoy was dangerous. Everyone knew it and she’d willingly put herself in his path. If there was any sense left in her lust-riddled brain, she’d retract her offer immediately, but she had a sinking feeling that he wouldn’t let her.

Not to mention, deep down, she knew she wanted him. The realization of it made her stomach turn in knots.

“You look a little peaked,” remarked Ron, who was dodging evil glares from Lavender.

“Hm?” Her eyebrows rose as she was dragged from her ever-consuming thoughts. “Oh, yes. I suppose I’ve been feeling a bit unwell lately. Probably just stress and lack of sleep.” She rubbed the dark smudges under her eyes before glancing at her watch. “I have detention in a few hours. I think that I’m going to try to catch a bit of sleep before I have to face Flitch and that disgusting potions room. Though, given the fact that there are fewer classes in there this year, perhaps it won’t be so bad.”

Harry watched her as she rose, “Ok, but let us know if you need anything.” There was obvious concern in his voice.

With a heavy sigh, Hermione did her best to give him a reassuring smile. “Of course. I will see you both in the morning.”

*~*~*~*

“Here’s your bucket and brush. Don’t think about nicking out early or cutting corners. I’ll know if you do, and your punishment will be far worse than a bit of scrubbing.” Filch’s eyes gleamed no doubt with the vision of stringing her up by her toes until she screamed for mercy.

Hermione took the bucket from Filch, only the weight of it nearly dragged her to the floor. The pail hit the stone floor with a rattle, sloshing water all over her feet. Great, as if her night couldn’t get any worse, now she had soggy socks.

“Mrs. Norris will be by to check on your progress. Won’t you, my sweet?” He cooed as he rubbed the evil feline under the chin. “You’ll be serving two and a half hours here tonight. Make the most of them.”

Hermione resisted the urge to chuck her brush at the back of his head as he exited the chamber.

Rolling up her sleeves, she dunked her brush into the soapy water and slapped it onto one of the desks. The room had seen better days, but worse ones as well. She should be able to get a lot done in one night if she kept on task.

The oppressive silence beat against her as she scrubbed the dingy wood. Not like there was anything else in there to distract her from her chore.

After what had to be a good hour of cleaning, Hermione collapsed onto the floor in a panting heap. Even when she was at home and unable to use magic, she’d never put this much effort into housework. Not even when her mother got into her spring cleaning craze. She drew the back of her hand across her brow to wipe away the budding sweat. Her shoes were abandoned long ago, as well as her socks. She’d rolled up her sleeve in attempts to cool her arms and keep them out of the soap bucket, but she was still beginning to feel over-heated. What she really needed was a cold glass of water, but she assumed if she left, it would give Filch reason to drag her to the dungeon.

Hermione shuddered. She’d suffer through the thirst.

Unceremoniously tossing the brush into the bucket, she began plucking at the buttons of her oxford shirt. Thankfully, she’d worn a tank underneath and could shed the garment without risk of exposing herself. As the third button popped open, she heard the door creak.

“Insufferable cat! I’m still here! You can run back to your master and give him the disappointing news.”

“I can’t believe you mistake me for that wretched beast. I’m offended.”

Hermione whirled around as she gripped the open panels of her shirt to her chest. “What in the bloody hell are you doing here?”

“Please,” Malfoy eased the door shut behind him, giving a flick of his wand behind his back to throw the bolt. “Don’t stop on my behalf. Seems like it was just getting good.”

“My evening is already in the toilet. Do you really have to make it worse?”

“Worse?” He slowly approached her as he unclasped his cloak. He moved with a predatory grace, his penetrating gaze never faltering as he stalked her. “I had every intention of making it better.”

“I don’t possibly see how you’d manage that.” Hermione inched backwards, only to butt against the edge of one of the tables.

“Oh, I can manage.” He smirked as he tossed his cloak over one of the chairs. “I can manage just fine.”